Mokie arrived at the Circuit and Systems class about five minutes early. She was exhausted from the previous day's ordeals.
When Mokie awoke with the stilettos still locked to her feet, she barely made it to the bathroom, her legs ached so badly. Jenn called to her as Mokie was headed back to her bedroom.
"Yes, Mistress," Mokie replied, turning the corner into Jenn's room. If she was shocked to see Jenn on her back, legs spread, pulling her labia lips to open her pussy wide, she did not say anything.
"I need a wakey wakey, slut."
"Yes, Mistress," and remembering the requirement to show complete enthusiasm when serving her owners, Mokie dove into Jenn's cunt as though she was starving for love nectar. In moments, Jenn was moaning with ecstasy, her legs wrapped around her slave, her fists wrapped in Mokie's hair. In minutes, Jenn exploded into the earliest morning cum of her life, again splattering her juices all over Mokie's face.
So pleased was Jenn with her slave's performance, that she unhooked the key from Mokie's hoop, released the stilettos and ordered her slave to take a shower, prepare Jenn's breakfast, and to kneel in the kitchen and call when everything was ready...and to make sure this didn't take more than 30 minutes.
Mokie was still recovering from these early morning activities, when she rounded the corner and entered the classroom. Most of the students were already seated. Jason was sitting near the back and motioned her over.
"Looking sweet, slut," he said, louder than a whisper, which made her cringe. Fortunately, most of the early arrivals were chatting and Jason's comment was not likely to be heard. Nevertheless, she quickly looked around to check if anyone was staring in their direction.
Jenn insisted she wear a black, backless draped top, with a plunging neckline and chained pendent hanging between her breasts. She changed the dolphin in her navel to a stud with chain, wore cut off jean shorts, and her strappy lace-up black sandals. Compared to the stilettos, these heels were quite comfortable to Monique. Her hair was tied into a ponytail, the fuck-me hoops swinging free.
Jason handed her a thin lab notebook. "The moment the professor starts the lecture, not one second before or after, open the notebook to the first page." She just stared at him, wondering what insidious plan was in the works. "It looks like the same seat is available as Monday, so go sit there, and make sure you walk and behave provocatively, slave." She was dismissed with a wave of his hand.
As Professor Larson began to speak, Mokie opened the notebook. The first page was hot pink and entitled, From This Day Forward.
From this day forward...
1. You will instantly obey any command given to you by your master or mistress.
2. Upon returning to your apartment, you will go to www.slaveregister.com and use your slave number 635-269-589 and the password orgasm to enter the site. Complete all information in the profile, then print out your slave registration certificate in color and buy a frame to prominently display it in your bedroom. Memorize your slave number. If asked and you forget, it will be tattooed permanently on your body.
3. You will shave or otherwise remove the hair from any part of your body below the neck on a daily basis.
4. You will strip and remain naked whenever you are in your apartment.
5. You will come quickly to me and kneel before me whenever I enter your apartment. You will keep your eyes lowered, directed below my waist, when kneeling before me.
6. You will maintain good posture at all times, keeping your head up, your back straight, your shoulders back, thrusting your breasts up and forward, and your tummy in.
7. You will prepare and perform a sexually provocative erotic dance Thursday night.
8. You will keep a slave diary recording everything that you do and everything that I do to you, and your feelings, moods, and reactions. You will keep this diary available to me at all times. You will start it during class this morning immediately following your completion of the order below. You will begin the diary with the moment I called out your name the first day of class.
Within one minute of finishing reading, you will raise your hand and ask the professor to repeat something or clarify something he has just said. While he responds, you will smile and at one point, brush back your hair provocatively to expose your fuck-me hoops.
When class ends, rush to the exit, stopping for no one, and meet me at the tables next to the Student Union, where we will read your diary together.
The horrifying note was at an end.
--------
Sitting next to her, in the same chair as Monday, you notice she has not been paying attention during the opening moments, instead reading something on hot pink paper. She seemed to be agitated, her mouth agape. You wonder what the note said.
In the past 48 hours, you have built up some nerve. Opportunities do not often fall in your lap and if you believe in destiny, this many times seated nearby one of the hottest girls on campus had to be karma.
Since Monday, you had asked around. It turned out many knew Mokie, the biggest tease on campus. Both cute and sexy, she had nearly every guy yearning for her. It was said that if you could get her drunk, you could get into her pants fairly easy. And so your fantasies continued to build.
Sitting too close to the front to risk speaking, you quickly scribble a note asking if she is ok, and slide it onto her desk. Her reaction is unexpected, her eyes wide with surprise, she stares at you as though you passed acidic lab paper in her direction.
She seems to calm and takes your note and clearly seems relieved. She looks directly at you, smiles briefly, and nods that she is ok. You are surprised to see a little pink stud on her tongue which you are sure was not there on Monday. She got her tongue pierced!
Immediately she turns her attention to Larson, listens keenly for a few moments, and then raises her hand.
You are surprised, because discussion is not part of Larson's style. You wonder what she will say.
"Excuse me, Professor, but would you please repeat that?" She fingers her large hoops, acting the airhead. She might as well be chewing cum like a cud.
You are thinking something is more than odd. The prof has merely been pontificating about some historical aspect of circuits, hardly profound, and yet Ms. Sexi asks for a repetition.
Expecting Larson to make a sarcastic reply, you are surprised when he asks for clarification about what she wishes repeated, and after a vague response, restates the history. He then asks her name, and she says, "Monique." He asks if his response was satisfactory and she replies, "Yes, Sir." Was this a ploy to be noticed and garner the professor's attention? If so, it worked.
"Oh, yes, thank you, Sir," again twirling her hoop. Strange goings-on, you think.
The rest of the lecture is boring as hell, and often you sneak a peek in her direction. She never looks your way, always writing in her notebook, page after page. This also makes no sense. You have written three words on your notepad and she is onto her fifth or sixth page. Is she writing a letter? Then why pretend she cares about the professor's lecture?
With about 15 minutes left in class, you hear her sniffle. There is no question she is quietly weeping, two big tear drops on her paper, the ink running.
You reach in your pack for a packet of Kleenex and unobtrusively slide it over to her. She does not look up, does not express appreciation, but takes a Kleenex to dab her eyes and the tears on the page.
She may be sexy as all hell, but she is suffering, and your heart aches for her. This is your chance to connect on an emotional level.
But you have no chance. The moment Larson stops speaking, she is out of her seat, moving away from you, up the aisle and out the door. She leaves the packet of tissues behind, and does not even give you a glance. By the time you gather your things and pursue, she is long gone.
.....
323-323343. Like a mantra, the numbers of the hooker stormed back into Mokie's mind. Despite all she was going through, the gaze of that hooker had stuck with her. She was haunted by it, but not in fear. It was almost comforting, knowing that a woman could be dominated and yet still be confident and proud.
Confident and proud -- the way she used to be. She had met with Jason at the Student Union to read her diary together, which had stripped more and more of her self-esteem away. She was under his control and she could see no way out. Was it possible to be under his domination and yet still be the Mokie of last week?
