After class ended and the duck-dancing finally stopped, Sarah and I walked across campus together.
"I can't believe what just happened in there," Sarah said, nudging my shoulder. "That was quite the performance."
I took a deep breath. "It wasn't exactly spontaneous. It was Chloe—she hypnotized me."
Sarah stopped walking and turned to face me. "Wait, what?"
"Remember when I told you about going to the dungeon with her? Well, she's been experimenting with hypnosis. She planted that command in my head."
"And you had no control over it? You just had to do what she programmed?"
I nodded, feeling my face flush. "The weird thing is... I should feel humiliated. But I've never felt anything like it. When I'm on the cross in her dungeon, I'm physically restrained. But this..." I paused, searching for the right words. "She wasn't even there, yet her will controlled me completely. It was incredible."
Sarah studied my face. "Did you know she was going to do this?"
"Yes, I agreed to the hypnosis session. I just didn't think it would actually work. I thought I was just playing along to make her happy."
Sarah tilted her head. "So, how does this hypnosis thing work, exactly? I mean, is it like in the movies, with the swinging watch and everything?"
"I have no idea," I admitted. "All I know is what I just experienced. Chloe's a psychology major, so they learn this stuff. It's not just some parlor trick she read in a book."
Sarah's eyes widened. "Wow. It's...it's safe, right? I mean, she wouldn't do anything that could hurt you, would she?"
I shrugged. "That's the thing. I trust her, but all I know is what happened to me. That duck dance was phenomenal."
Sarah giggled, then her expression turned serious. "You look like you want more of this."
"I sure do," I admitted. "It was humiliating, and I felt like a total fool... but it was incredibly hot."
"So, what exactly do you want her to make you do?" Sarah asked with a smile.
"That's exactly the point," I said, excitement bubbling inside of me. "It wouldn't be up to me. It would be Chloe who decides what I have to do."
Sarah tapped her chin, thoughtful. "Hmm... You know, I might just have to send Chloe a few suggestions of my own." A mischievous grin spread across her face.
"Oh yeah? What kind of suggestions are we talking about?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.
Sarah leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, I was thinking... maybe she could make you wear that French maid outfit of yours to class. Or perhaps..." she paused for effect, "make you bark like a dog every time Professor Callaghan says the word 'existentialism'."
The arousal tightened my chastity cage. The thought of those scenarios, the humiliation and exposure, mixed with the complete loss of control... it was intoxicating. Was this what I like so much? I'm used to being the shy, bookish guy, but maybe I had it wrong the whole time. It's not just being controlled. It's the reactions from the people around me.
"You know," I said, trying to sound nonchalant, "I might not mind if you did send a few of those suggestions to Chloe."
Sarah's smile widened. "Oh, I have plenty more ideas where those came from. I'm just getting started." She paused, her eyes gleaming with wicked delight. "How about... Chloe makes you wear a sign that says 'I Love Sarah's Feet'?"
My breath hitched. The idea was so outrageous, so public. My cock strained against the chastity cage, throbbing with a desperate need that I knew wouldn't be satisfied anytime soon. This all sounded amazing.
"Or," Sarah continued, her voice dripping with playful malice, "she could make you serenade me with a love song... in the middle of the library... while wearing nothing but that collar."
Each suggestion was more outrageous than the last, pushing me further and further into a realm of delicious humiliation and forbidden desire. What is wrong with me? I love the idea of being at the total mercy of these women, of being their plaything, their pet.
"You're enjoying this way too much," I said, laughing.
Back in the dorm that evening, I found Jacob sketching in his notebook. He looked up as I walked in, a smile on his face.
"Hey, man, how's it going? You've been pretty busy lately," he said, setting down his pencil.
"Yeah, things have been... interesting," I replied, trying to keep my voice casual.
"I can imagine," he said, nodding towards my collar. "So, listen, some of us from the art studio are holding a painting workshop at the gallery next week. It's nothing fancy, just a chance to chill, be creative, and hang out."
I perked up. The gallery? Was this one of those BDSM-themed parties he had talked about before? My dick already started to strain in its chastity cage. "Oh, really? What kind of painting?" I asked, trying to suppress the excitement in my voice.
Jacob chuckled. "Just landscape, nothing crazy. It'll be relaxing. Gives you a chance to try something new. It's free, and we'll have snacks."
"Oh," I said, trying not to sound disappointed. "So, it's not... one of those parties?"
"Nah, man," Jacob said, shaking his head, a smile visible on his face. "I figured you could use a break from all that BDSM stuff. You know, clear your head a little. Besides," he continued, a knowing look in his eyes, "maybe it's good to get away from Chloe for a while."
Jacob grinned. "You've mentioned Sarah before, right? The one from your film class?"
I nodded. "Yeah. We knew each other in high school, too."
"Well," Jacob said, "bring her along! The more, the merrier. It'll be fun for all of us."
"Yeah, I'll definitely talk to her about it," I said, already picturing Sarah's excitement. It was a way to hang out with both of my friends, away from Chloe and the constant pull of the Black Rose Sorority. And maybe, just maybe, it would give me a chance to figure out what I really wanted.
My phone buzzed with a message from Chloe, asking me to come to the sorority. When I arrived, she led me to the common area.
"So," she said, settling into a plush armchair, "how was your Film Studies class?"
I couldn't help but grin, my excitement bubbling over. "It was incredible! When Professor Callaghan asked me about the symbolism in the film, I just started dancing like a duck. Everyone was shocked at first, just staring at me."
Chloe leaned forward, clearly amused. "Go on."
"Then Jessica joined in, followed by Rachel and Tom. Even Sarah started quacking! And Professor Callaghan—he was laughing so hard. The whole class turned into this weird duck dance party."
"And how did you feel about it?" Chloe asked, her eyes sparkling with interest.
"It was the best feeling ever," I admitted, my chastity cage tightening at the memory. "Being completely locked out of my own body, following your commands while I couldn't do anything to stop it. I... I'd really like to do more of that."
Chloe's eyebrows shot up. "Really? You enjoyed it that much?" Her surprise transformed into a pleased smile. "Well, if you enjoy being under my influence so much, I have a game for you today."
Chloe's smile widened as Mia walked into the room. I recognized her from my first day in the French maid dress, when she had me clean her entire room.
"Martin," Chloe said. "Mia was telling me how disappointed she was to miss our dinner at Le Petit Jardin. She heard about your performance under the table."
Mia sat down next to Chloe, crossing her legs. "I really wanted to see you begging for scraps like a good pet."
"Well," Chloe turned to me, "I think it's time for you to experience being under someone else's control. Today, you'll be Mia's pet."
My chastity cage strained painfully as I processed Chloe's words. The thought of serving someone else made me nervous, but if this was what Chloe wanted, I would do it. Mia would be my Goddess for today.
"Don't worry," Chloe said, noticing my hesitation. "I'll be right here."
Mia's eyes gleamed. "We're going to have so much fun, pet."
Mia led me down the hallway to a room I hadn't seen before. When she opened the door, I found myself staring at an old-fashioned classroom, complete with wooden desks, a chalkboard, and even an old globe on the teacher's desk.
"Strip," Mia ordered. "Then sit at the front desk."
I obeyed without hesitation. This was what Chloe wanted—for me to submit to Mia. My chastity cage strained as I removed my clothes, excited by the prospect of being under Mia's control.
"Today's lesson is geography," Mia said, picking up a thin cane from her desk. "What is the capital of Burkina Faso?"
I froze. I didn't even know where Burkina Faso was. "Um... I don't know, Miss."
"Hands out."
I extended my palms. The cane struck swift and hard. I gasped at the sharp sting.
"Ouagadougou," Mia said. "What's the largest city in Kazakhstan?"
"I... I'm not sure."
Another sharp strike across my palms. "Almaty. What's the capital of Suriname?"
Each wrong answer brought another stinging blow. My palms burned, but the pain only heightened my arousal. When she returned to asking about Burkina Faso's capital and I still couldn't remember, the punishment was even harder.
"Ouagadougou!" she snapped. "We covered this. What's the capital of Bhutan?"
The questions continued—capitals, major cities, rivers, mountain ranges. My hands throbbed from the repeated strikes, yet I found myself craving more. This was what Chloe wanted. This was my purpose—to learn, to suffer, to obey.
"The capital of Myanmar?"
"Naypyidaw," I answered, remembering from an earlier question.
"Very good. The largest city in Angola?"
"I don't know, Miss."
Crack! "Luanda. The capital of Burkina Faso?"
"Ouaga... Ouagadougou?"
"Finally. The highest mountain in Papua New Guinea?"
And so it went, question after question, punishment after punishment. My palms were red and tender, but I welcomed each strike. I was serving Chloe by serving Mia, and that thought alone made every moment of pain worth it.
It was late afternoon by the time Mia finally ended our geography lesson. My hands still stung from the caning.
"You'll stay the night," Mia announced.
I blinked in surprise but nodded eagerly. Whatever Mia wanted, I would do.
She led me to a familiar room—the one with the dog crates I'd cleaned earlier. "Strip and get in," she commanded, pointing to one of the larger cages.
I crawled inside. Mia placed two bowls in front of the cage—one filled with water, the other with brown kibble that smelled faintly of meat and grain.
"Bon appétit, my little pet. See you in the morning." The lock clicked shut, and her footsteps faded away.
I stared at the dog food, my stomach growling. I reached for it, then stopped. If I was playing the role of a dog, I should commit fully. Besides, there were probably cameras here, just like in the dungeon. Mia—and maybe even Chloe—would be watching.
I lowered my face to the bowl. The taste was awful—dry, mealy, with a strange artificial meat flavor that coated my mouth. Each bite was a challenge to swallow, but this was Mia's command. What Mia wanted, Chloe wanted. I forced myself to continue, lapping up each piece without using my hands.
After finishing, I lapped at the water bowl, trying to wash away the lingering taste. Water splashed on my face and chest, but I didn't care. I was a dog now, and dogs didn't worry about staying dry.
The night stretched endlessly. The cage was too small to stretch out fully. Every position grew uncomfortable within minutes. The metal bars dug into my sides, my back, my hips. The irony wasn't lost on me—caged in a cage.
The morning light filtered through the basement window, waking me from my fitful sleep. Every muscle ached from the cramped position in the cage. My neck was stiff, and my back screamed in protest as I shifted.
Mia's heels clicked on the concrete floor. She unlocked the cage door.
"Good morning, pet. How was your night?"
I crawled out, wincing. "Not too good, Mistress Mia. The cage was—"
"What did you just say?" Her voice turned sharp.
I froze, realizing my mistake.
"Not too good?" She spat the words. "Not too good? I gave you the best cage in the sorority! The premium cage! And you're complaining?"
"I didn't mean—"
"I'm telling Chloe about this ungrateful behavior." She turned toward the door.
"No! Please, Mistress Mia!" I scrambled to my knees. "Please don't tell Chloe. I'll do anything!"
She stopped. "Anything?"
"Yes, anything. Just please don't tell her."
A slow, wicked smile spread across her face. "Those are dangerous words, pet." She tapped her finger against her lips. "But fine, if you'll do anything..."
Mia led me up from the basement to her sorority room. She opened the door and pointed to a mountain of clothes piled on her floor.
"The washing machine is broken," she said.
I stared at the pile. That couldn't be right—surely the washing machine wasn't actually broken?
"Those need washing. And drying. And ironing. By hand." She gestured toward her en-suite bathroom. "There's the bathroom. I'll be back later. Bye!"
The door clicked shut behind her. I gaped at the enormous pile of clothes. When was the last time she'd done laundry? And how many outfits did one person need?
I gathered an armful and carried it to the bathroom. Starting with the lighter items seemed sensible. I filled the sink with warm water and soap, then began with her t-shirts. When I was sure no one was around, I couldn't resist bringing each item to my nose before submerging it. Her scent was intoxicating—a mix of perfume and something uniquely Mia.
The jeans came next, heavier and harder to wash by hand. Then her blouses, each one carrying that same wonderful fragrance. My heart raced as I reached her more intimate items. Her socks smelled of leather from her boots. Her panties... I felt guilty but couldn't stop myself from inhaling deeply.
This wasn't punishment at all. It was a gift. A heavenly gift.
But drying them posed a challenge. Without a dryer, how could I possibly get everything dry before she returned? I spotted her hairdryer on the counter and grabbed it. The sight must have been ridiculous—me frantically waving a hairdryer at hanging underwear and socks draped over the shower rod.
When everything was finally dry, I faced the ironing board with uncertainty. Did panties and socks need ironing? I had no idea, but I couldn't risk disappointing Mia. I carefully pressed each item, even the smallest pieces of lingerie.
I folded everything neatly and arranged it on her bed in organized piles—casual wear, formal wear, undergarments, and socks. Each stack was perfectly aligned, corners crisp.
Mia returned in the afternoon. She inspected each pile, running her fingers along the folds.
"Not bad," she said finally. "You even ironed my thongs. That's... thorough."
Mia walked me to the door of her room. "Chloe's waiting for you in the common area," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice.
My legs ached from standing all day doing laundry, but I made my way downstairs. The common area was dimly lit, and Chloe sat in her favorite armchair, legs crossed elegantly.
"Mia tells me you've been a really good boy," Chloe said, her blue eyes sparkling. "The laundry was done perfectly. Even the thongs were ironed." She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. "I almost feel bad about what's going to happen to you in today's session."
Her laugh made my cock strain against the chastity cage. The way she said it, the mysterious tone in her voice—I had no idea what to expect. Whatever she had planned, I knew it would push my limits further than ever before.
"Strip," Chloe commanded.
I removed my clothes, folding them in a corner. The cool air made my skin prickle.
Chloe led me to the St. Andrew's Cross and secured my wrists and ankles with handcuffs. The metal felt cold against my skin. I tested the restraints—solid as always.
"Now for something special," Chloe said, reaching for my chastity cage.
"Already?" I asked, surprised. It wasn't my scheduled release day.
"Oh yes," she smiled. "You'll soon wish I hadn't."
"What's going on?" My voice trembled slightly.
Chloe's hand wrapped around my cock, and she started stroking. Oh god, it felt incredible. I had missed this sensation so much. Her hand moved faster, building the pleasure rapidly.
Yes, almost there. She increased her pace even more. The tension built in my groin. Almost, yes, yes—and then I exploded. Not a ruined orgasm like usual, but a full, proper climax. One I hadn't experienced in what felt like forever.
As the waves of pleasure subsided, the post-orgasm clarity hit me. This part I didn't like. The thought of going back into chastity now seemed unbearable. Having a real orgasm was so much better than the ruined ones Chloe usually gave me.
I gasped as the waves of pleasure subsided, but Chloe kept stroking. My eyes widened. Was she going to give me another orgasm? But something felt wrong. Very wrong.
"Wait, stop, please," I begged. My cock felt incredibly sensitive. Each stroke was painful. "It hurts!"
"I know, Martin," Chloe said, her hand never stopping. "But you need to experience this."
"Why? Why are you doing this?" I struggled against the restraints, but they held firm. Despite the pain, I remained hard. How was that even possible?
"Because this is post-orgasm torture," Chloe explained, her voice soft but determined. "You need to understand what it feels like."
Another orgasm built, fighting through the pain. I screamed as it hit me, weaker than the first but still present. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and agony I'd never experienced before.
"Please, Chloe," I whimpered. "This isn't good. I should experience good things, not this. Please stop."
"I'm sorry, Martin," Chloe's voice cracked slightly. "I don't want to hurt you, but this is necessary. You need to know what it feels like."
Her hand continued its relentless pace. The pain increased with each stroke, yet my body betrayed me, responding to her touch. A third orgasm approached, and I couldn't stop it.
"No, no, no," I cried out as it hit me, my body shaking on the cross.
I struggled against the restraints as Chloe's hand kept moving. The pain was unbearable. What was my safeword? Through the haze of agony, I searched my memory. Pineapple. Yes, that was it. Pineapple. Just one word and this would stop.
But could I say it? Chloe knew what she was doing. She always did. If she thought I needed this, then I had to endure it. This was for my own good. She wouldn't hurt me without reason.
Another orgasm, weaker than before but still present. I screamed, and tears streamed down my face.
"Please," I begged, but didn't use my safeword. No, I couldn't disappoint Chloe. I had to take whatever she gave me.
One final orgasm, barely more than a twitch, and Chloe finally stopped. I hung limply in the restraints, gasping for air.
"Poor boy," Chloe said softly. "I'll leave you to gather yourself for a bit."
She left the chamber, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Every nerve ending in my body screamed. I felt broken, used, destroyed. But beneath the pain, a different feeling emerged—pride. I hadn't used my safeword. I'd endured everything Chloe wanted me to experience.
She must be so proud of me. The thought warmed me more than any physical comfort could. Yes, it had hurt. Yes, it had been awful. But I'd proven myself worthy of her attention, her training, her control.
Chloe returned to the dungeon, carrying tissues in her hand. With gentle movements, she wiped my penis clean. This was different—usually I had to clean myself up after our sessions.
As if reading my thoughts, Chloe spoke. "I don't want you touching your penis at all after this session. You need to cool down a bit."
She picked up my chastity cage and carefully locked it back in place. It felt different after the intense experience.
"Do you need more time?" she asked.
"No, I'm fine," I managed to say.
"Good. Let's talk about what just happened," Chloe said. "Post-orgasm torture is intense, isn't it? The way your body keeps responding even when you're oversensitive."
"It was terrible," I admitted. "The pain was unbearable, but I couldn't stop getting hard. Each orgasm hurt more than the last. I wanted to use my safeword, but I couldn't disappoint you."
Chloe nodded and began unlocking the restraints from the St. Andrew's Cross. I stepped down carefully, my legs still shaky. As I got dressed, Chloe watched me with a satisfied expression.
"One more thing," she said as I finished buttoning my shirt. "Your next release will be in three weeks."
I nodded, surprised to find I didn't mind. After what I'd just experienced, maybe I didn't want any releases at all.
A few days later, I walked into the art gallery with Sarah for Jacob's open painting workshop. The space buzzed with activity as people set up their easels.
"Ever painted before?" Sarah asked.
"Unless you count finger painting in kindergarten?"
Jacob approached us, paint already splattered on his smock. "Glad you made it! Let's get you both set up."
He guided us to two empty easels facing a still life arrangement—a bowl of fruit and some fabric draped artistically.
"Start with basic shapes," Jacob explained. "Look for the circles and curves."
I stared at my blank canvas, completely lost. My first attempts looked more like a child's drawing than art. Meanwhile, Sarah was already blocking in shapes with confident strokes.
"Here." Jacob grabbed a clean brush. "Watch how I hold it—like this. Now try."
I mimicked his grip, but my lines remained wobbly. Jacob moved between our easels, offering guidance.
"Sarah, great work on the shadows. Martin... well, keep practicing those circles."
"How long have you been painting?" Sarah asked Jacob.
"Since I could hold a brush. It's all I want to do—make art for a living. Gallery shows, commissions, the whole thing."
"You're really good at it," I said, trying to salvage my mess of a painting.
Jacob laughed. "Thanks. Sarah, your composition is coming along nicely. Martin, maybe try... um... a different angle?"
Sarah's canvas showed a recognizable bowl of fruit with decent shading. Mine looked like abstract expressionism gone wrong.
"Can I paint Sarah instead?" I asked suddenly.
"You still need lots of practice," Sarah said, eyeing my canvas.
"Please? I insist."
Sarah shrugged, smiling. "Fine, why not?"
I dipped my brush in blue paint and, instead of touching the canvas, drew a line across Sarah's cheek. She gasped, then burst out laughing.
"So this is how you want to paint me?"
She grabbed her brush, loaded it with red paint, and swiped it across my forehead. Jacob doubled over laughing as we chased each other around the easels, adding colorful streaks to faces and arms.
"You're both terrible students," Jacob wheezed between laughs.
"I prefer to call it creative expression," I said, dotting Sarah's nose with yellow.
"Abstract art," Sarah agreed, painting whiskers on my cheeks.
Sarah and I walked back to the dorms, our faces decorated in a rainbow of paint splotches.
"Thank you for today," Sarah said. "I really enjoyed myself."
"Me too. Even if my fruit bowl looked more like a natural disaster."
We walked in comfortable silence for a moment before Sarah spoke again. "Jacob really found his calling, didn't he? The way he talks about art, his eyes light up."
"Yeah, he knows exactly what he wants. Must be nice."
"What do you mean?"
I shrugged. "He has this clear path. This passion. Like you with environmental education."
"Oh?" Sarah raised an eyebrow. "And what do you think my future looks like?"
"Teaching kids about saving the planet, probably in Iceland since you're obsessed with going there. Making a difference, just like your mom."
Sarah smiled. "You're not entirely wrong. Though I'm thinking more along the lines of developing educational programs about climate change. What about you?"
"Honestly? I have no idea. Everyone seems to have these grand plans and I'm just... here. Taking it day by day."
"Is that such a bad thing?"
"I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I should want more, you know? Have some big dream or goal. But right now, I'm just enjoying life as it comes."
The math auditorium buzzed with nervous energy as I found my seat. Professor Williams stood at the front, a stack of test papers in his hands. My fingers tapped against the desk, but not from anxiety—I knew this material inside and out.
"You have two hours," Professor Williams said, passing out the tests. "Show all your work."
This was my moment to prove myself. The first question was about differential equations—easy. The second dealt with complex number theory—child's play.
My pen flew across the paper, solving problem after problem. Each solution clicked perfectly into place. Halfway through the test, I felt really satisfied. I was going to ace this.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
Chloe: Come to the sorority. Now.
My stomach dropped. I stared at the message, then at my half-finished test. The equations that had seemed so clear moments ago now blurred before my eyes.
I raised my hand. "Professor Williams? I'm not feeling well. Could I..."
He nodded, probably assuming test anxiety. "You can retake it next week if you bring a doctor's note."
I gathered my things, avoiding the curious stares of my classmates. The partially completed test stared back at me as I placed it on his desk.
What could be so urgent? Had something happened? Despite my worry, just the thought of seeing Chloe made me want to hurry over there.
She waited in the entrance hall, a slight smile playing on her lips. My breath caught at the sight of her.
"What's wrong? What's the emergency?" I asked.
Chloe laughed. "Emergency? There isn't one. I just wanted to see if you'd come when called."
"But... my math test..."
"And you left it. For me." Her smile widened. "Good boy."
She turned and walked away, leaving me standing alone in the entrance hall. My cock strained against the chastity cage, desperate and aching. The math test didn't matter anymore—nothing mattered except that I'd passed her real test. I'd proven my devotion, shown that I'd drop everything at her command. The thought made me tremble with need. I would do anything for her, absolutely anything, just to see that smile again.