[sirius]

The next morning was thankfully fairly uneventful. I packed up all my stuff to head back to the University and my sweet dad helped me load my car up before he had to head to work and Mom cooked me a goodbye breakfast since she had a late shift that night. Chelsea disappeared to the gym and Luke kept to himself in his room playing who knows what video game or whatnot. I just jumped into my car and took off, just wanting to put all of the weirdness and strange events of the past few days behind me.

As the miles passed and I got closer and closer to my rental house and the home away from home that I had made, I began to feel more and more normal. I was going to be just fine, I thought. It will all just fade away and things will get back to the way they were. I am just a simple track star working on her college degree and hoping the right guy might come along, but not hoping too much on that front since the last guy I had dated was such a disaster. Anyway, I was just a normal girl fighting to find her niche in the world.
I got to the house, unloaded all my stuff and hauled it up to my room by myself since neither of my two roommates seemed to be back yet. I puttered around for a little while, watched some TV for a bit and just relaxed before getting ready for a semi-casual party that evening. I wasn’t too much of a partier, but I would go to house parties and whatnot for a while.

Not a total prude, but I avoided anything too crazy. After the party, I got home, took a nice warm bath, and sipped a glass of California merlot; life was just peachy.
Over the next couple of days, I thought a little of Chelsea and her assignment to me. I would be out shopping and I would glance at the slightly more immodest items of clothing and whatnot, but I wouldn’t really consider buying them. It just didn’t seem real anymore. I didn’t stop wearing the collar though. I didn’t even think about it most days and it was just unassuming enough that no one seemed to ask about it. I was pleased with that and had even considered taking it off, but a slight fear would always creep up inside of me and I would leave it alone. Besides, it didn’t look to bad on me. The black choker made my neck seem longer and even sleeker than it already was, so I just rolled with it. I was happy and life was good.

Then, five days after I got back, I was relaxing and taking another bath with wine reading a nice novel when my phone buzzed. I reached over and saw it was a text from my sister. I didn’t really want to open it, but did anyway:
Hello Slut, I trust you are enjoying yourself up at the University. Just a reminder that you belong to me and this is the consequence for your disobedience.
It included a picture of me with Argus on my back, knotted to my pussy while my face was one of orgasmic pleasure. It also included a bit more sinister picture of another woman hogtied and gagged with a very red ass and a ginormous butt plug shoved inside her anus. I quickly shook my head semi flung the phone away next to the tub. I didn’t want to think about all of that at the moment. However, I began to feel a flushed warmth creep into my loins and I couldn’t drive those pictures out of my mind. Try as I might to read my novel, I kept glancing back at my phone lying a few feet away. I finally couldn’t help myself and I stretched as much as I could to get my phone. As I looked at the picture of me and Argus, my fingers drifted down to part my lips and begin to caress them lightly, the warm water aiding in my increasing arousal. As I looked at the second picture, I felt even more heat rush into my reproductive regions. I had never considered bondage and had thought it very odd and slightly disgusting, but I found myself masturbating to the thought and fantasy of someone having that much control over me.

Ashamed, I set my phone aside, only to take it up again to gaze at the humiliation and feel my horniness rise within me and drive me onward. Soon, I was making myself orgasm while lusting over the pictures of me and a dog mating and the threat of bondage, spanking, and getting my ass reamed open with a plastic wedge.
As soon as the waves of my orgasmic pulsations subsided, I felt shame and embarrassment wash over me and I set the phone aside, scrubbing against my skin roughly with my hands and with my loofa. I couldn’t get it off of me and at the same time, I didn’t want to. Deep inside of me, I still wanted to submit myself to this debasement and revel in the sexual debauchery, but my mind was screaming in moral humiliation and my heart was buried in my stomach.

The next day, half out of fear of my sister’s retribution and half out of curious desire, I made my way to the mall and slunk toward the areas that contained clothing a bit out of my comfort zone. I picked up some really short shorts, mini/micro-mini skirts, halter tops, tube tops, and crop tops and slipped into the changing room. Seeing myself in such various states of undress made one part of me smile warmly in anticipation, but the much more dominating feeling was one of shame and discomfort. I swept all of the clothes to the corner and promptly zipped out of the store. I just couldn’t bring myself to take those items to the register and look the cashier in the eye while I paid for those types of clothes. I pulled my phone out and texted Chelsea back:
I just don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can dress like you want me to.
I took a deep breath and hit send. My pulse pounded, fearing her response. Two minutes ticked by while I fidgeted nervously in the main corridor of the mall. Finally, my phone buzzed and I quickly pulled up the text.
Well slut, you don’t have much of a choice…that is unless you are ready to see my dungeon? Or let your indiscretions be known to the world?
Attached to her message was a picture of a dark room I had never seen before. It appeared to be stone floors and walls with a large throw rug in the middle. On the wall most visible in the picture was a rack of all manner of what appeared to be torture devices: whips, ropes, clamps, and the like. There was also a sort of shelf underneath with dildos of all shapes and sizes. On the bottom shelf sat a giant conical mound of rubber that looked to be almost a foot and a half tall and expanding from 2 inches or so to about eight inches toward the bottom. Looking at the array was terrifying.
Another message sent my phone buzzing:

I don’t know slut. Which should you take for your first disobedience? I’m thinking starting out with the big black one. Stretch that pussy of yours out really good, then get the cone for your ass. What do you think?
I was panicked. I didn’t know what to do. Fumbling with my phone, I stumbled through typing a hurried and contrite response:
No, no Mistress! That’s not what I meant at all. I’ll finish my assignment. Please forgive me and give me another chance…please!
I couldn’t stop my heart pounding in my chest from fear of what she would do to me. It was utterly unbearable. Finally my phone went off again and I raced to open the message and see my fate. Was she going to sexually torture me or would she allow me to try again to please her.
Hmmm…Alright Slut. I will give you another chance, but do not question me again! Is that clear?
So relieved, I hurriedly responded:
Oh yes Mistress! Thank you! It is perfectly clear.
Good! Now, you will still have the full two weeks to completely replace your wardrobe, but I want to see some progress by tonight. At least two pictures of clothing befitting your new role as my Slut. I want them by midnight.
Yes Mistress. I will get them to you.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief that I didn’t currently have to face the various kink devices that Chelsea apparently had at her disposal. Where did she get all that anyway?
Shaking my head, I tried to get back on track. I now really needed to get some new clothes by tonight. I now knew what was at stake. However, I was too embarrassed to go back into the same shop I had just exited. So, I went out to my car and drove to the mall at the opposite end of town. Hopefully no one would recognize me here and I could just get in and get out with the necessary items.

I again tried to be as discreet as possible as I began pulling items off the rack again and went to the changing room. I chose a couple of very skimpy thongs, one lacy and audacious bra, a black micro skirt that I was very nervous about, but framed my butt very nicely, a pair of navy blue short shorts that allowed the very bottom part of my cheeks to be shown, a pink, knit tube top, and a yellow halter top. I crept up to the cashier at the closest exit and did my level best not to blush as she scanned each item and folded it neatly before placing it in the bag. I just tried to smile coyly before I paid in cash. I was starting to get a bit of tunnel vision trying not to react as I took my receipt, took my bag, and made for the door.
“Have a nice day,” the cashier grinned.
I blushed hard and looked down as I pushed towards the door, “Thanks…you too.”
Finally, I was outside and made it to my car. I sat there for a while before I unwound enough to drive home. How was I ever going to do all of the things my sister was bound to require of me I began to wonder. Would it just be better to submit myself to her sexual torture? No, I thought, because then she’d just make me do it anyway after she had abused my whole body. Should I just let her send out the pictures? No, no, that would completely ruin everything in my life. There would be nowhere to turn. I guess I’d just have to grit through it somehow and hope she would be happy

Two weeks later:

I had just dressed in a new outfit from my wardrobe mandated by my Mistress. I took a selfy in the bathroom mirror and sent it to her per her requirements. My long, straight, blonde hair flowed over my shoulders which were graced by a very tight white tee with a plunging v-neck that displayed a fair amount of my modest cleavage. My breasts weren’t anything special being a track athlete, but the t-shirt certainly accentuated what little I had. It was cut short on the bottom, displaying my toned abs. My tight black micro skirt didn’t leave too much to the imagination on the bottom end either. I finished off the ensemble with a pair of ankle socks and my black Convers.
Well done Slut! You have completed your first assignment. This week, your assignment is to choose one of your male professors and flash him your pussy during class. I expect a full report by Friday.
My sister’s reply dashed the little bit of pride I had been feeling at my completion of the first assignment. She wanted to me to do WHAT? That was preposterous! I couldn’t do that! I was about to text her back, but thought better of it. Her dungeon threat still hung over me and I didn’t want to face that.

Ehem?!?
Her next text brought me back to the situation at hand. I didn’t have any choice and I quickly responded.
Oh, yes Mistress. I will complete my assignment.
I shook my head and simply picked up my schedule for the semester to pick out which professor I should expose myself to. I had already seen four of the five of my professors. Two were women which didn’t meet my sister’s requirements, one was a weasely guy and kind of creepy, and the fourth was a kindly old gentleman. I’d probably give him a heart-attack if I flashed him. Well, I guess I should just hope that Mr. Harmon, my Monday at 10am professor fit the bill. However, I wouldn’t see him again until the following Monday, so if he was my target, then it would have to be today.
I took a deep breath before grabbing my bag and heading out for the day. I snuck past my roommates in the living room as this was the first day that I was wearing my required wardrobe and I just didn’t want to deal with their questions and whatnot.
As I got out of my car and started to walk across campus, I tried to keep from looking anyone in the eye while still trying to maintain confidence. I felt so exposed. I saw multiple guys gawking at me as I walked by and one guy even wrecked his bike into a flower planter as I crossed a street. I was so utterly embarrassed, but I could feel a slight smile creeping across my lips at the attention.
In any event, I made it to my class with Mr. Harmon a few minutes before class was to begin. It was an advanced political science class with around 75 students in a moderately sized lecture hall. Because it was only one day a week, it was to last for two hours each day. I quickly found a seat along one of the walls and somewhat near the front. I would need to be reasonably close in order for me to complete my task effectively. I glanced around the room and thankfully, I saw no other students from any of my other classes. I could be completely anonymous. This was working out about as well as it possibly could under the circumstances.
Mr. Harmon strolled into the lecture hall and began his introductions and the notes for the day immediately. I was instantly discouraged. Mr. Harmon was a portly man of about 5 foot six inches. He looked fairly disheveled like one of those professor types who have no concept of social protocols or hygiene. I quickly ran through the other professors that I had and decided that I had no other choice. This had to be the guy. I literally did not hear a single word the man said during the first hour and a half of his lecture. I was way too busy trying to convince my mind to do what I had to do.
Finally, with my eyes held low, I just forced my legs open a bit. Trying not to focus on what I was doing, I spread them a bit further and glanced up at the professor. He unfortunately was gazing everywhere else but in my direction. So, I kept my legs spread and set a hand in my lap. He had to see my pussy anyway. Just my thong wouldn’t do. As discreetly as possible, I put a finger up my skirt and pulled the small piece of cloth covering my womanhood out of the way. I felt a cool breeze hit me and the shame of my act brought a slight arousal to my lips. I glanced up again and I caught the eye of Mr. Harmon momentarily trained on the area under my desk before rising to meet mine. I instantly dropped my eyes and slammed my legs shut. Amazingly, he never even broke stride with his lecture and continued without missing a beat.
“Alright class, that will about do it for today. Next Monday, you will need to have read Chapters 1-21 of the Sharny book. Thank you, you are dismissed.” I was so relieved! Class was finally over. “Ms. Lathorn, a moment if you would.”

I froze in my tracks. No! I was trapped. The last of the other students had just left the class as I tried to make it through the door. I slowly turned and let the door close. It was now just me and Mr. Harmon left in the lecture hall.
“That was quite a display you put on there,” he began, putting his hands in his pockets and trying to lift his chest out proudly. All he succeeded in doing was projecting his large belly, but I wasn’t laughing. I trained my gaze on the floor and said nothing.
“Well, what do you have to say for yourself,” he asked?
My mind was blank. “Um…well…um,” I stumbled along.
“Do you want me to report this little indiscretion to the Dean of Students,” he demanded?
“No, no, please. I am so sorry. It won’t happen again,” I stammered, my eyes flickering up to meet his grey gaze for a brief second before they fell again in shame.
“Hmmm, well I think we can come to some sort of arrangement.”
“W-w-what sort of arrangement,” I asked hesitantly?
“Well, I’m busy right now, but I’m thinking that I am going to need you to come see me at my private residence next Saturday. Do we have a deal?”
“Y-yes Mr. Harmon. Thank you,” I stammered as I turned and rushed out the door.
I rushed to my car with my gaze firmly on the ground two steps in front of me the whole way. This time, I felt no rush of confidence at the boys staring. I just wanted to hide. I got home and I texted my sister the report of my completion of the assignment and then threw myself into my bed.
A while later, my phone buzzed. I picked it up to read it in a daze after I had woken out of a nap.
Ahhh, Well done Slut. I had hoped you would pick Mr. Harmon. You are going to have lots of fun next Saturday. However, you might need a bit of preparation before going out to his place. Come back home this weekend and I’ll help you get ready for that experience.
Still a bit hazy, I just replied:
Yes Mistress. I’ll come home this weekend.