Goth Girl and Clay

Well, this is my story. So where do we begin? Let's go back to a month ago.

I was a complete loser in high school. They always told me not to worry about that, because you get to reinvent yourself in college. Yeah... right. What they don't tell you is that not every reinvention is a good one.

I'm not gonna lie, it's partially my own fault, and, you know, genetics. I've got a very slim build and I wear my hair quite long, just past my shoulders. Never had a girlfriend. Never properly got to any bases... Well, that's actually a grey area. You'll see.

All that stuff is supposed to change in college, right? Nope.

My sister Susan is only fifteen months older than me. She's the queen of college. She was the queen of high school too, ate that shit up. How the fuck are we from the same genetic pool and still so completely different? Anyway, I digress.

I'm sitting in my dorm room on a Saturday night like the loser I always am when I hear a scream. Some girl's being dragged by two people and she's screaming her head off.

I'm not gonna lie, I was nervous as hell and had no idea what to do, but I figured I had to go outside even if I got my ass kicked.

So I ran out of my dorm, down the stairs, and burst outside. The girl's crying on the pavement. The other two are already gone.

I'm trying to talk to her but she's incoherent, just blubbering, crying, and repeating "home... home... home..."

I don't know what the fuck to do. I don't know where to take her, and I don't want to be standing on the street alone either. So I do the only thing I can think of. I pick her up and carry her back to my dorm room.

That's when shit gets crazy.

Once she's inside, I don't know what the hell happens, but she starts stripping. I'm like, "No, no, don't do that. Just chill. Want a drink? Something to eat? Is there someone you can call? Or want me to?"

She doesn't say a word. She just keeps ripping her clothes off until she's standing there, her back facing me. Wearing nothing but a tight black thong. She then lifts my duvet and climbs straight into my bed.

I look outside my dorm room. But there's no one else about to ask for help or advice. I go back into my dorm room and she's passed out. I have no idea what to do, so I go over to my computer and start gaming. I deliberately turn the webcam on and aim it only at me at the desk, covering my own ass in case anything comes back later. I game for as long as I can until I finally pass out in the chair.

Next thing I know, I'm waking up to her shouting...

"What the actual fuck? Why am I naked?"

I sit up fast. "Hey... um... I found you outside last night."

She looks at me like I'm pure garbage. "What kind of sick fuck are you?"

"No, no, no. You stripped off. I tried to find more people. But it was just me. So I gamed while you slept. Honestly, I've got hours of footage. I just sat in this chair the whole time."

"Yeah, likely story, asshole." She wraps my duvet around herself and starts sorting through my clothes I had on my bed.

I point at the floor where her stuff is still scattered. "I didn't touch any of your shit. You were outside, I helped you, that's it."

She demands I hand over her clothes and stand in the corner facing the wall while she gets dressed. Once she's done she tells me I can look again.

She's got black hair cut in a sharp bob. Her mascara's run a little. You can tell she's had a rough night.

"You're taking me to breakfast," she says.

I walk with her to a local diner and buy her food. She eats while staring at me the entire time... intensely.

"Do I know you?" she asks.

"No. Honestly, I'm a freshman. You might know my sister, though. Susan..."

"Oh. Sorority Susan." She wrinkles her nose. "I don't like her. She's a bitch. You know she started a rumor that I was a lesbian on my very first day of college? Day one." This Goth Girl told me.

"I didn't know that. I'm sorry."

"You look a little like her."

"Erm... sorry?" I replied again. Unsure what to say.

She finishes breakfast. "Want to grab a drink?"

"It's like ten a. m.," I tell her.

She just repeats it, slower. "You want to go grab a drink?"

I gulp. "... Sure."

We end up at a bar. She orders two drinks, sets one in front of me and one in front of herself, then goes right back to that intense staring.

I'm not very good with silences. "Do you have any recollection of last night?"

She says, "Some."

"Do you remember the people she was trying to get away from?"

"Ish... not really."

"Do you know what happened?"

"I have bipolar disorder and probably just had an episode."

There was another awkward silence.

"Do you erm... do you remember erm...

"Stripping naked?" She interrupts my stumbling sentence.

"Ye, yeah... and climbing into my bed?"

"So I remember the stripping part, but I didn't realize where she was. Apologies for that... and flipping out this morning."

"All good." I nod awkwardly.

Then she asks, "What's the craziest thing you've ever done?" Completely off topic.

I shrug. "I don't get out much."

She probes further. "Ever hooked up in a bar stall?"

"No."

"You look... moldable," she says. "Like clay."

I apologize again.

"Stop that shit," she snaps. "You've got this level of desperation about you. People will use you if you're not careful."

"I don't know how to change." I apologize once more without thinking.

She leans in. "Apologize again and you can suck my dick."

"Excuse me?"

"Apologize again," she says, voice low and steady, "and you'll come back to my place. I'll strap on my cock, and you'll get on your knees and blow me. You'll wrap those pretty lips around it and suck until I tell you to stop."

I laugh nervously.

"I'm not playing with you, Clay."

"My name's not..."

"Your name's Clay now," she cuts me off. "You have two choices. You can sit quietly, finish your drink, walk out of this bar and never see me again. Or you can get on your knees right here, kiss my boots, stand up, say 'Yes, Mistress,' and I'll take you back to my place and do despicable things to you."

She lets that hang for a second, then adds, almost casually. "And before you decide, understand this. Once we leave, you can say goodbye to your penis. It's going straight into a tight little chastity cage. Locked. Key's mine. You'll feel it every time you get hard and realize you can't do a fucking thing about it."

She tilts her head.

"Do you understand me?"

I swallow. "I think... you're into femdom and all that shit?"

A slow, sharp smile spreads across her face. "You have no idea... But with that said, don' t expect today to be a complete crash course in it. I will go slowly... methodicallly."

I took a deep breath and thought about what was happening. I've never had a girlfriend. I'd spent most of my life dreaming of situations like this. Like holy shit. I'm actually considering this?

I looked at this Goth Girl. My mouth feels both dry and salivating at the same time. How is that even possible? This fucking goddess wants me. Well to at least dominate me. I'd be a fool to say no. But something's still eating at me. The whole thing feels surreal, like I've stumbled into someone else's fantasy.

I lean forward, pick up my drink, and take a slow sip. A flash of anxiety, maybe even fear, crosses her face for half a second.

I set the glass down.

"I definitely want option two," I say. "I think I would love you to do despicable things to me. And if you want to lock my dick in a cage... fucking so be it. But before I commit, I've got one question."

"Shoot," she says.

"Was last night intentional?"

She raises an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Like how you ended up in my room?"

"Did I intentionally go out? Yes. Have a bipolar episode? Yes. Did I intentionally go out looking for you? No."

"It's just... you're way out of my league. And this doesn't feel like it's moving too fast so much as escalating at a hundred miles an hour. I don't know. What do the police call it? Entrapment?"

Goth Girl goes quiet for a moment. Then giggles. "Entrapment?"

She studies me, and for the first time since we met the teasing drops clean off her face.

"Clay, if you don't want this, you walk away. Right now. No argument, no guilt trip, no consequences.

I stare at her.

"Look," she continues. "You helped me last night, and I'm truly thankful for that. But you need to understand I'm a dominant. I will be demanding. I can be a complete fucking nightmare if that's what you're looking for. But there's a difference between someone submitting to you and someone who's just too weak or too desperate to say no."

She pauses, watching me carefully. "So if you're asking whether I deliberately engineered this whole situation to trap you, no."

A faint smile returns. "But if you're asking whether I saw something interesting in you and decided I wanted to explore it?" She shrugs. "Absolutely."

"Really?" I reply, unable to hide the smile that creeps back onto my face.

"Yeah... or maybe I'm just a dumb cum slut who's been used and abused by every frat boy, fuck boy, and athlete on campus and now I'm bored. Or maybe I see how similar you look to your sister and my pure hatred of her makes me want to feminize you, put you in a wig, paint your face, and hate-fuck that pretty little mouth of yours until you cry. Or maybe in the short time we've been together I've already realised I can mold you into whatever kind of desperate little sub I want. Or maybe I'm just a sinister sexual deviant who's currently bored out of her mind. Does it really matter?"

"Kinda," I mumble. My smile is gone again.

She scoffs, rolls her eyes toward the ceiling.

"Fuck's sake, Clay. We're gonna have to work on that neediness. Look, you've already seen me nearly naked, so I deserve the same in return. You do seem lonely, which screams that you're craving something. I'm craving something too. A lot of guys talk a big game and then bolt the second it gets properly freaky. You... you're interesting. Last night could have gone any way, and you still came outside to help me. Do you have any idea how many episodes I've had where I just wake up the next day on the pavement, or come to with some guy already kissing me, groping me, trying to get his hands inside my clothes? But not you. You, with your small frame, your soft loser look, you still stepped up. I want to explore that. I want to explore you. Honestly."

I take a deep breath.

Then I stand up, step forward, and drop to my knees. I lean in and press my lips to the shiny leather of her ankle high boots, holding the kiss for a long second before I look up.

"Yes, Mistress."

She taps me once on the head, almost affectionate, and wiggles her nose at me.

"Good boy."

"Okay, let's go," she says.

"Wait," I said. "Sorry. I just realised I don't even know your name. I've been calling you Goth Girl in my head this entire time."

She immediately let out a loud cackle.

"Goth Girl? Ha! I like it. That'll do for now. We can use GG for short."

I followed her back to her dorm, trying very hard not to look like I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. She walked ahead of me like this was the most normal thing in the world. I, meanwhile, was having a minor existential crisis.

At one point she called over her shoulder, "Catch up, Clay."

Then she started laughing to herself.

"KETCHUP CLAY!" she yelled in a ridiculous high voice. "You don't put ketchup on Clay! Ha!"

She burst out laughing again. I just stared at her. Questioning if I had made the right call.

A few minutes later we stopped outside a door at the end of the corridor. She unlocked it and pushed it open. I stepped inside.

The first thing I noticed was how empty it was. Not messy. Not lived in. Just... empty. One bed, one desk, a wardrobe, a dresser and a small sofa pushed against the wall.

I looked around. "Where's your roommate?"

GG dropped her keys onto the desk. "Don't have one."

"You don't have one?"

"Not anymore."

"What happened?"

She shrugged. "People keep requesting transfers."

I stared at her. She looked completely unbothered.

"Why?"

She turned around and smiled. "I'm a delight to live with." She walked across the room and opened a large drawer underneath her bed.

"Come, Clay," she waved, then immediately followed it with her ridiculous cackle.

"No, no, no! No cumming for you, Clay!"

She reached out and gave my nose a cartoonish little boop.

I just stared at her.

She burst out laughing again, then gestured to the open drawer. Wiping tears from her eyes.

I was shocked. There were cages. Dozens of them. Different shapes, different sizes, different materials. Plastic, metal, some sleek and minimal, different colors, others thick and heavy looking. There had to be at least twenty or so.

"Plastic or metal?" she asked casually, like she was offering me a choice of coffee.

I kept staring. "Why do you have so many?"

She shrugged. "Different moods."

She held up a baby blue one. "Cute." Then a soft pink one. "Cuter." Then she picked up a solid black cage and smiled. "This one says you're going to regret every life choice that led you here."

I stared at her. "You actually have a whole collection?"

"Clay, you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into," she giggled.

She held them up one after another like she was showing me paint samples. "You can mix and match with the plastic ones. The base rings and shaft tubes are interchangeable. Or you can keep the colours standard as they are. But don't worry, the decision isn't permanent. We can always swap things on different days when we take them off for cleaning and maintenance."

She looked down at the collection, genuinely considering the combinations. "Personally, I think white and pink look nice together. White and blue too. Pink and black. Blue and black." She picked up a white and black set and frowned. "I don't really like the white and black together. Not really my cup of tea."

Then she held up pink and blue. "And the pink and blue just looks... I don't know. Like a sweet. You know what I mean?" She looked at me as though she'd just explained something completely normal. I had no idea what to say.

"Anywho," she continued, dropping the cages back into the drawer, "you pick. You don't have to go plastic if you don't want to. You can go metal. They're a bit weightier, though, so I'd personally recommend the plastic."

She pointed at the collection. "You pick, lock yourself up, and I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"I'm going to get dressed too."

"Ah... okay."

She walked away. Then it hit me. She was already dressed. So what the fuck was she changing into?

I chose a white base ring and a blue cage, one of the combos she'd said she liked. Hoping to impress. My hands were shaking a little as I locked the cold plastic around my cock and balls. The fit was snug, inescapable. I held the tiny key between my fingers like it was an order number waiting to be called.

Goth Girl emerged a minute later.

She was completely naked except for her tight black thong... and a ridiculously large, shiny black dildo strapped tightly around her hips. The thing was thick, heavy looking, and already jutting out obscenely from between her legs. She'd even touched up her makeup, darker eyes, sharper lips.

I swallowed. "What's that for?"

"I told you," she said, smiling. "Your pretty lips around my big fat dick."

You never mentioned its size." I gulped.

She bounced playfully on the balls of her feet, making the heavy black cock swing and then spin in a slow, deliberate circle right in front of me.

Before I could say anything else, she stepped forward and snatched the key straight out of my hand.

"I'll be taking that," she said sweetly, holding it up between her thumb and forefinger, as if she'd just found the final clue to solve a mystery.

"Wouldn't want you getting any ideas about unlocking that useless little cock of yours. It's locked up for a reason... and the reason is me."

She slipped the key onto a thin chain around her neck so it rested between her breasts, then looked down at me with a wicked little grin.

"Now open wide, Clay. Time to show Mommy GG..." She paused. "Mommy Goth Girl... Mistress GG... Mistress Goth Girl... Yes Mistress Goth Girl, how good that mouth of yours can be."

I leaned forward on my knees, wrapped my lips around the thick head of her strap-on, and took the shiny black cock into my mouth.

It was awkward and embarrassing. I tried my best on the circus sized dildo, but being completely inexperienced, I didn't really know what to do.

GG leaned forward, bracing herself against the dresser while watching me. "Maybe tying your hair up would be more aesthetically pleasing." she told me pulling my hair into a ponytail.

Her comment completely confused me.

After a short while I glanced up at her, looking for instructions. Her lips pursed into that familiar little expression of disappointment.

"Hmm." She tilted her head. "You're really not very good at that, are you?" she said, pulling the dildo's head from my mouth with a wet plop.

My face burned with embarrassment. "Sorry... it's my first time, and this is stupidly large..."

She cackled. "Oh, don't look so offended. I'm giving you constructive criticism here."

She adjusted herself slightly, now more interested in stroking and playing with the dildo herself. "Honestly, Clay... we're going to have to work on your cock sucking skills. Maybe a below average frat boy could help?"

A look of pure horror appeared on my face. GG just cackled again.

"Why don't you be a good little lamb, pull my thong to the side and use your tongue on my clit... I'll handle this big, bad, black monster dildo," she said in an exaggeratedly sweet voice.

I practically leapt at the opportunity, pulling her thong aside and burying my face in her pussy.

"Easy, tiger," GG laughed. "Slow down."

She gave me an approving little tap on the head. "There's a good boy. Carefully," she told me, occasionally offering little bits of encouragement and direction. "A little higher... yeah, yeah. That's it."

Her voice grew increasingly enthusiastic. "Good boy. Good boy."

She grinned at her reflection in the mirror. "See? He can learn." She told her reflection.

While I licked and sucked at her clit, she stroked the big black dildo, occasionally smacking it lightly against the side of my head and making cutesy little noises, "bop, boop, bang."

I just kept eating her out. This was my first time, and nothing was going to deter me.

She whacked the dildo against my head once more and started teasing, "That big old bully being mean to..."

She abruptly stopped and began gasping.

I paused and looked up.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING STOP!" she screamed.

I went straight back to work.

"Oh... fuck." Her voice caught. She sucked in a breath, then another, each one unsteady as she tried to regain control.

"Just... give me... a second... FUUUUUCK!" she squealed in a high pitched voice as she came hard against my tongue.

I had expected her to squirt when she climaxed. She didn't. I was a little disappointed. Porn had deceived me, I told myself.

GG laughed breathlessly, shaking her head. "Clay's a quick learner," she giggled, tapping my head approvingly.

She disappeared into the bathroom, returning a few minutes later wearing what could generously be described as a nightgown. The sleeves stopped somewhere above her elbows, and the hem barely made it to her waist made even more ridiculous by the fact that she was completely naked underneath.

I stared at it. What exactly is the point of wearing that? I thought.

She noticed me still kneeling on the floor, my trousers around my ankles, the cage already starting to drip with frustrated precum and created a small pool on the floor beneath me.

She stopped. "Oh, no."

I looked up.

She pointed at me. "That's not right." Her expression became mock serious. "We need to fix that."

She walked over and gave me another approving little tap on the head. "You've done a good job. You deserve a treat."

My curiosity immediately got the better of me.

"Strip. Then go kneel at the foot of the bed," she ordered.

I did as I was told, wondering what my treat would be.

GG crossed the room and opened one of the drawers in her dresser. She rummaged around for a moment before turning around with a tiny bag in her hand. She dropped it into my hands.

I looked inside. Cotton balls... acetone... black nail polish.

I looked up at her beautiful naked body, confused. "Huh?"

She smiled. "Your reward." She nodded at the bag.

I looked back at it. "My reward is... nail polish?"

"You're repainting my toenails."

She lifted her foot to my face and playfully squished my nose with her toes. I took the opportunity to glance once more at the pussy I had just been licking.

"And you're going to do a good job," she told me firmly.

She sat at the foot of the bed, legs slightly spread, and lifted her right foot toward me. "Begin."

I took a cotton ball, soaked it in acetone, and started removing the old polish, toe by toe.

I tried to slyly and carefully steal glances at her beautiful naked body. Whenever she caught me she said, "Focus. You have a job to do."

My cock had swollen hard inside its cage the moment I first laid eyes on her like this, and with her sitting naked in front of me, the scent of her still on my face, there was no sign the cage was going to let me soften anytime soon.

When it came time to apply the fresh black nail polish, I said, "GG, can I ask you a question?"

"Technically you just did. But go on."

I began carefully. "I've loved every second of this afternoon... this whole day, even. But I've noticed your personality sort of fluctuates. Like sometimes you seem very playful and... I don't mean to be rude... somewhat nerdy, geeky..."

"Careful, Clay. You wouldn't want your first spanking on day one."

"Sorry. It's just... is that part of the bipolar?"

She paused for a minute, tilted her head, and I swear she intentionally brushed her fingers over her areola, teasing her nipple. Then she answered.

"No. The bipolar thing is its own separate issue. I have emotional regulation... something or another. It's not really a clean diagnosable thing, the doctors say. But I'm impulsive. So if I feel goofy, I'll be goofy, and it will be set to level ten, max. If I'm angry, same thing. For example, depending on my mood, I might want you to address me as Mistress. Sometimes GG will suffice. Maybe I'd want you to call me Mummy. I'm not too sure. That's kind of the point. I don't even know when it happens."

"So that's not like an episode or anything?"

By this point her hand had slid between her legs and it looked like she had begun slowly rubbing her clit.

"No. An episode would look completely different. That would be my brain telling me to do something completely irrational and crazy, and explaining to me that it's logical and the right thing to do."

"How so?" I asked as I reached the last toe.

"Okay. Let's say you become a fantastic little subby and I fall madly, deeply in love with you and want to keep you forever"

"Okay..."

"I could have an episode where my brain starts convincing me that something completely irrational is actually perfectly logical."

"Like what?"

She shrugged. "Like deciding that the only way I can possibly love you forever is to lock you in a basement and make you completely dependent on me."

My head jolted up and I stared at her.

She immediately held up both hands. "Obviously I would never fucking do that."

"That's reassuring, returning back to the last toe nail."

"I'd probably just break your leg and leave you in bed for six weeks, making sure it healed wrong."

I slowly looked up at her again.

She shrugged.

"What? Then you could never physically run away."

"GG..."

"I'm giving you an example." She smiled innocently. "Besides, I'd keep you alive. I'd bring you food and water. But the screams would be bothersome, so you'd have to be gagged when you weren't being fed."

I felt like a deer in headlights. What the fuck had I signed myself up for?

"I feel you're giving off very negative energy about this hypothetical," she continued. "It's not like I'm saying I'd unalive you, embalm you, and keep you in my bed as a life-size teddy."

I stared at her with pure fear.

She burst out laughing. Then she told me her nails looked perfect and that I would get a reward. She stood up, walked over to her dresser, opened another drawer, and pulled out a black mat and a blanket. She instructed me to stand, laid the mat on the floor, and told me to lie down. I did. She draped the blanket over me.

"Stay," she commanded.

She walked away. I heard her open another drawer. The soft sounds of her climbing onto the bed. Then the low buzzing started.

I lay on the floor and listened to her breathe heavily and moan softly as she pleasured herself. She came five more times while I stayed exactly where she had left me. Locked, dripping, fearful and yet completely sure I made the right choice.

I laid on the black mat under the thin blanket, still locked in the blue and white cage, listening to the last soft moans fade into quiet breathing. A few minutes later the breathing turned into soft, open mouthed snoring.

I checked my watch. It wasn't even noon. She'd already fallen asleep.

I stared at the ceiling for a while, then sat up and stared at GG, at the key hanging between her breasts on the chain.

She stirred. Afraid I'd get in trouble I laid back down and stared back at the ceiling. Eventually boredom won. I dozed off.

Several hours later a gentle but insistent nudge against my shoulder woke me. Then another. Soft toes, not a kick.

"Wake up... wake up, Clay..."

I blinked up groggily. GG stood over me, completely naked except for that ridiculously short dressing gown that still barely covered anything. The key still rested between her breasts.

She looked down at me, expression serious. "Open up. I need to pee."

I stared at her, my brain still half asleep. "... You want me to drink it?"

She pulled a face like I'd just suggested something mildly disgusting.

"Yeah... you're right. That's probably a day two or day three thing... not a day one thing." She waved a hand. "I'll be right back."

Then she turned and scurried off toward the bathroom in a comically hurried little run, the short gown flapping uselessly behind her.

When she returned she tapped me once on the head. "Time to get dressed."

I pulled my clothes back on while she disappeared into her wardrobe. A few minutes later she emerged wearing a tiny black crop top that stopped just under her breasts, a micro mini skirt that barely covered her ass, knee high black boots, and a long black leather jacket that almost reached the floor. The contrast was ridiculous and somehow perfect.

"Come on," she said.

She took me to a hardware store first. Inside she marched straight to the chain section and started examining lengths and padlocks with the focus of someone buying serious equipment.

"I want a chain and padlock for around his neck," she told the sales assistant, pointing at me like I was a display model.

The guy looked between us. "We sell chain by the yard."

"I only need it by the foot."

"That's not how we sell it."

GG waved a dismissive hand. "Doesn't matter. He's paying anyway."

In the end she decided a chain around the neck was too obnoxious and obvious. Instead she bought a half inch chain and a small three quarter inch padlock and, right there in the aisle, locked it around my right ankle. The metal was cool and heavy against my skin.

From the hardware store she took me to a pet store.

"Much less conspicuous," she announced while the sales assistant fitted a black leather dog collar around my neck. She also bought a retractable lead and several regular ones, dropping them into a paper bag.

As we were walking away the sales assistant called after me, "Dude, your girlfriend is fucking crazy... and hot."

GG didn't even turn around. She just raised one finger in the air and called back cheerfully, "Not his girlfriend!"

I spent the next hour quietly sulking about that single sentence.

Eventually GG noticed.

"You're giving off serious mood energy, Clay. Spill."

I muttered something about the "not his girlfriend" comment.

She stopped walking and turned to face me properly. "I'm not your girlfriend," she said, matter of fact. "I'm your Mistress. Or Mummy Mistress. Whatever you want to look at it as." She paused, then added more seriously, "This is your second chance to bolt if you need to. I promise you. I swear to you. We will never have sex."

Then she did a little cartoonish head bob left to right, eyes flickering like she was reading invisible text in the sky only she could see.

"Let me clarify," she continued. "We will never have traditional sex. Your penis in my vagina... no. Your penis in my ass... no. Your penis in my mouth.... hell no. Your penis in my hand? Yeah, maybe, occasionally. You wearing a strap-on in my vagina? Definitely. My ass... maybe if I'm drunk. My hand would be pointless... but maybe fun... we'll see!"

I stood there. Honestly contemplating backing out. Was this really what I'd imagined losing my virginity would look like? No.... Not even remotely. But then again... what exactly had I been waiting for? Another year alone? Another Saturday night sitting in my dorm pretending I didn't care?

At least GG kind of wanted me. Even if she wanted me in the strangest fucking way imaginable. Having sex with her via a strap-on would still be better than staying a loser virgin in my dorm room forever. Plus she'd already let me perform oral on her and clearly wanted that again. And I could always opt out later.

I nodded. "Okay."

She smiled, satisfied, and we kept walking.

A few minutes later she spotted a quiet bar. "Hmm. I'm thirsty. Let's grab a drink."

Inside there were maybe a dozen people. GG marched up to the bar and shouted, loud enough for half the room to hear. "Do you allow pets?"

The bartender looked confused. "Uh... yes? We even have feeding bowls if you want."

"That's fantastic."

She reached into the pet store bag, pulled out a leash, clipped it to my new collar, walked me over to a table, lifted one of the chair legs, and slipped the handle of the leash under it so I was effectively tethered.

"Sit. Be a good boy." Then she headed back to the bar.

I went bright red. A few of the other patrons were already laughing and scoffing. At the bar the bartender was pissing himself laughing and pointing at me. Then his face turned more serious as he spoke with GG.

A minute later she returned, sat in the chair the leash was attached to, and started casually running her fingers through my hair. The bartender arrived with her drink and set a metal feeding bowl on the floor in front of me, filled with beer.

"There you go, boy," he said, barely holding back another laugh.

GG took a sip of her drink, pulled out her phone, and began scrolling while continuing to stroke my hair in slow, absent minded pets. Exactly the way someone might stroke a dog while completely absorbed in their own thoughts.

I leant forward and outstretched my arms to pick up the bowl to take a sip. GG's hand gripped my hair, pushing my face into the bowl.

She didn't say a word, but her instruction was clear. Drink like a pet. So I lapped at the beer like a dog would water or a cat would to milk.

"Looks like it's going to rain tomorrow," she said to no one in particular, voice calm and conversational. "Proper downpour expected by lunchtime. Might actually be nice, cool everything off a bit. I've got that lecture at ten... or is it eleven? Whatever. Probably still hungover by then anyway."

She flicked to another screen, still gently scratching behind my ear. "And can you believe they're still arguing about that new campus policy? Absolute circus. Someone on the student forum is claiming it's a human rights violation. Drama queens, the lot of them. Weather app says it'll be clear by Wednesday though. That's something at least."

She kept talking in the same mild, detached tone about the forecast, a half remembered news headline, whether the coffee shop on the corner would still have those cinnamon rolls tomorrow, while her fingers never stopped moving through my hair, treating me exactly like a quiet, well behaved pet sitting at her feet.

We.... GG... sat, I knelt like a dog... with my doggy bowl in that bar for ninety minutes. She ordered three more drinks. I struggled to finish my bowl as I could only use my tongue. Honestly I stopped even trying half way.

"All done." GG announced. Untethering me from my chair leg peg. She walked me to the door. Uncuffed my leash and told me, "let's head back."

On the walk back toward campus GG suddenly stopped and did a little urgent dance on the spot. "I need the bathroom."

I looked around. There wasn't one. "What am I supposed to do?"

She looked at me like it should have been obvious. "It's your job to drink my nectar."

"I thought that was a day three thing," I said, still annoyed about the bar.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't have time to keep going over this stupidness again and again and again. You can do as you promised, or you can fuck off and leave."

I swallowed. "... What do you need me to do?"

"Kneel. Lean your head back. I'm going to sit my ass on your face, position my pussy lips on your mouth, pull your bottom lip up, and relieve myself into you."

I knelt on the quiet stretch of pavement. She hiked up the tiny skirt, straddled my face, and settled her warm cunt against my open mouth. A second later hot, salty piss flooded over my tongue. I swallowed as best I could while my cock strained uselessly against the plastic cage. I grabbed at it once, trying to relieve the pressure, but nothing happened. I just kept swallowing.

When she finished she stood, gave me a playful tap on the head, and said, "Thank you. Now lick me clean."

I did... thoroughly. Running my tongue over every fold until she was satisfied.

"Good boy." She pinched my cheek.

I was still nervous, but I had to be certain about the boundaries. "Am I expected to clean your shit too?"

"No."

I probed further. Not because I wanted to, but because I needed to understand. "Why is one thing a necessity and the other off limits?"

She answered without hesitation. "Because that's not my thing. I don't get anything from it, and I'm not asking you to do something purely because I know you'll hate it. That's not domination, that's just being an asshole. Making you eat my shit serves no purpose. All it does is make you uncomfortable, and then you need to brush your teeth afterwards. And honestly, after you brush your teeth, what the fuck are we gonna do with that toothbrush? Because that shit's not staying in my nightstand. Now that being said. Just because it's something I don't want to do, if you tell me it's something you want to do, I'll happily do it for you. But you're going to have to ask. Possibly beg. And you're going to have to thank me for doing it. And I'm going to need a detailed breakdown of what it tastes like and why you enjoy it. So think really hard and carefully if it's something you actually want."

"No," I said quickly. "I'm good. Just number ones, please." My stomach turned slightly as I realised what I had actually just said.

She smiled, happy with the answer, and we started walking again.

A few moments later she said casually, "I saw you yanking on the cage while I was peeing. Just a polite reminder... that's my property, not your plaything. I don't want to see you touching it without permission again."

When we reached campus she told me to take her to my dorm.

"Why?"

"You'll need your books and coursework and stuff. I won't be a very good Mistress if you end up getting kicked out of college, now would I?"

We walked into my room. My roommate looked up, surprised.

"Ethan, where have you been?"

The second my name left his mouth GG did a full body theatrical shudder, shaking her hands like she was trying to fling something disgusting off her skin. "Eww, eww, eww... Nope! Not that. Hurry up and start packing."

My roommate tried again. "Ethan?"

GG stepped right up to him, waved a hand in his face, and said firmly, "That's not his name." Then she walked over to the wardrobes. "Which dresser is Clay's?"

My roommate looked completely lost. "Clay...?"

GG groaned. "Which is his fucking dresser, dude?"

He pointed. She gave him a cutesy little "Thank you!" and immediately started packing my clothes into a bag with efficient, cheerful movements.

When she was done she turned to me. "Say bye."

I mumbled a goodbye to my bewildered roommate. Then GG walked out of the room and I followed behind her, leash still clipped to the collar, ankle chain faintly clinking with every step.

Back in her room. Her empty, roommate free room, she gestured around.

"You get a couple of drawers. Books and computer can go on the desk over there. But first... Strip. Then you can start unpacking."

To be continued...