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She had liked to lay me on my back on the training table and straddle my face, holding the back of my head with fingers twined in my hair and looking down into my eyes as she pressed her warm, fragrant pussy rhythmically against my mouth until she came with a cry of agonized triumph. I hadn’t enjoyed it. The degradation at another young woman’s hands had brought a side of my submission to the fore that I hadn’t wanted to confront: Julia’s lesbian demands aroused me too much for my idea of myself as in control even as I yielded to Master G what had felt like everything.
It hadn’t actuallybeeneverything, though. I could see that as my eyes seemed to get stuck looking up and down the queen bed with its pink comforter that seemed to match Candy’s cream and pink skin. Through Candy, Master Hendryk had already started to teach me that my training had only begun—that his strict discipline and brutal degradation had in them something essential for my full education as his owned bed girl.
Education.That word again—it had floated into my mind unbidden. What did Candy’s pussy, lowered dominantly onto my submissive face, have to do with educational theory?
And… Master Hendryk had said something aboutthe kind of career that might interestme, hadn’t he? When they talked about careers at the Institute—Master G, and Miss Charlotte, and the other trainers in our classes—they meant things not related to our sexual service. Or not directly related, anyway: opportunities that our service would open up, that might have something to do with our submissive orientation and our experience gratifying the lewd needs and desires of our owners—but also might involve entirely different skills, which we’d have the chance to pick up thanks to being part of the Institute and Selecta’s huge tangle of businesses. College, for example, and all the chances that could give, especially when paired with internship programs that Miss Charlotte had told us would be available to us as Institute concubines. Some of those internships, she had said, lay in the reliably money-making fields that touched on sex work; others lay in completely unrelated fields like corporate-government relations.
I felt a little sob rise into my throat. How could all that—all the things I wanted for my life—involve doing as this weird artificial girl had commanded and lying on her bed, on my back, so that she could use my face with her pussy?
I turned back to Candy.
“What does… I mean…” I said, trying to find words that might persuade her to explain, without challenging her. If she reported me to Master Hendryk for speaking sharply again, I felt sure he would whip me without mercy. My right hand drifted back behind me almost unconsciously, as if trying to defend my bottom from yet another old-fashioned lesson in obedience.
“You’ll just have to see, won’t you?” Candy asked. “Or I can tell Master that you didn’t want your tutoring session!”
“No!” I said, and then I tried to soften it. “No, Candy… please…”
I looked at the bed again, my brain searching desperately for some way out of the other girl’s obscene command.
“Okay!” she said amicably, then continued with utter frankness, “So go ahead and do what I told you. I want to come, too, and I want to come on another girl’s face!”
A new wave of heat came into my own face, and I became suddenly conscious of the color of our nightgowns—me in blue and Candy in white. I remembered why she still had her white one on: Master Hendryk hadn’t fucked her, though she had begged him. He had decided to come inside me. She had climaxed, too, against his muscular backside. I felt a pang of strange sympathy, though, thinking about how needy our owner had left me even after using my vagina with his cock last night and this morning.
I swallowed hard and started walking the few steps over to her bed. Master Hendryk had already acquainted me with the most intimate, shameful parts of my bed sister, my very first day in his house. He had pushed my face deep into Candy’s little bottom and made me eat her hot, wet pussy. It shouldn’t mortify me this much to do it when we were alone, should it?
Somehow, though, a vast difference seemed to open between Master Hendryk’s hand on my head, pressing hard, insisting on my mouth’s shameful attendance to another girl’s needy privates, and having to lie on my back and wait for Candy to take her pleasure, by my own choice, with our owner absent. Trembling and lightheaded, I climbed onto the bed. Not looking at Candy, focusing on the pink comforter, I turned to get onto my back, shifting my gaze from the covers to the white ceiling.
I heard Candy get up from her desk chair and then, a moment later, I felt the bed shift as she climbed up herself. Her white nightgown appeared in the corner of my eye. I felt her hand on my cheek, turning my face, clearly demanding that I look at her. I closed my eyes at first, not wanting to see her expression, whatever it might be: triumph or scorn or sympathy all seemed equally unwelcome since I had no idea how to figure out whether Candy meant what her face said—or whether she evencouldmean anything at all.
The soft hand on my cheek stroked gently. I opened my eyes after a few seconds, because something in me had to know. Candy looked down with her usual bright smile, as if forcing another girl to serve her pleasure under threat of our master’s cane represented a bit of fun.
“Educational theory,” she said in a conversational tone of voice, “is how people figure out how we learn. It’s actually a big part of Master’s job at Selecta.”
“What?” I asked, trying to come up with a thought that didn’t lead me in ever-tightening circles of confusion. “His job?”
Candy nodded. Her hand moved gently on my cheek. I had to bite my lip as I felt my forehead crease, and a tension in my lower back threatened to make my bottom squirm. I had never gotten so unwillingly turned on with another girl. It must have something to do with the figure of Master Hendryk looming unseen in the background, I understood, but that only led me into another loop of repeating thought.
Candy’s making me wet because she represents Master Hendryk, who put Candy in charge of me because she represents him, who put her in charge…
“He’s the head of the education division.”
“Like,” I said, frowning more deeply as I tried to concentrate, “he’s a teacher? Or, like, a principal?”
She smiled patiently.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s the school division. Education is a bigger thing. You can think of it as teaching, but as the kind of teaching that helps a whole society, rather than just a class or a school. Let me show you.”
Without any further warning—iflet me show youactually represented a warning at all, in this case—Candy moved to swing her right knee across my face.
“Oh…” I said. “Wait… Candy…”
“No, Renee!” she said, her voice somehow bright and firm at the same time. “I want to come. You got fucked this morning and I didn’t. You have to learn.”
Under her sheer, lacy white nightgown, between her trim thighs, I took a breath through my nose and smelled my bed sister’s need as I caught sight of her smooth pink pussy. The cleft of her private lips grew darker, with the gathering shadow, as Candy began to lower them toward my face.
I tried to say, “Learn what?” Only the L actually emerged from my mouth, because Candy had started to queen me, moving herself—her wrinkly hooded clit, her already slick pussy, her button of a bottom-hole—rhythmically over my lips, my chin, my nose.
My body responded in such a conflicted way that I had the fleeting impression of being not a real person at all, but just a series of different impulses. Did Candy feel like that, on the inside, I couldn’t help wondering? I had panic in my tummy, and it made me writhe under the artificial girl’s aggressive use of my face for her pleasure. I had desire further down, an irrepressible urge to touch myself in an imitation of the enjoyment Candy demonstrated with the little whining noises that accompanied each tensing movement of her backside, each renewed pressure of her pussy onto my mouth.
