Pose

Since it's been a long time since the last chapter, here's a quick recap:

Chloe studies photography in college. She is the only girl in gang of 16 classmates who are part of the same program, and they all share a dorm. After a photoshoot where she is nude and submissive, Chloe develops a taste for submission in a group setting. She decides to become her classmates' shared, BDSM-slave. At the same time, she is leading the gang for a team project: there will be a photography competition in one month in her city, and she intends to win that contest.

With my army of sixteen photographers, I began working on the project—a mosaic of street photography that would come together as one, epic photograph, like a portrait of our city. I was confident in the concept and its chances of winning. It was a Wednesday, and there was exactly one month until the contest, now. I had already started meeting my classmates one by one and mentoring them. Each of them had a dent somewhere in his technique, each of them could use some training and betterment in one part of his approach. So I met them one by one, gave them tips, showed them how to do it... The responsibility to mentor and guide sixteen people was a big one, but to me, it was no daunting task. I was going to win that contest, no matter what.

We were walking back to our dorm, as the Wednesday class always finished at noon. As soon as we closed the door and entered the living room, I noticed Matt and how he turned to me with a smile. I felt a rush of excitement go through me. The week prior, I had asked him and the other boys that were into BDSM to tell the rest of the gang about my desire: I wanted to be the gang's slave. They had spent the week talking about it to the other boys and educating them on the whole shtick—what safewords were, how to approach domination, etc. We had decided that we would start on Wednesday. And it was now Wednesday.

Everyone sat on the couches, but before the TV could be turned on and PlayStation games played, Matt called for everyone's attention. "Ok everyone," he said, "today's a special day." He looked at me, and instinctively, I knew to place myself in front of the TV, before everyone. Eyes were lighting up already. "We've all known this gang isn't a democracy, far from it. Always been an absolute monarchy here, and we know who's the Queen." He turned to me.

We laughed, amused by how true his statement was, but I just had to one it up. "Queen?" I said. "You meant Empress."

"You're right, sorry about that. So... Our Excellency declared she wants something. And we're all up for it, Chloe."

I had to take a breath. The adrenaline was surging in me.

"So here's the rules," Julian said. "Weeks are gonna be divided between normal days and slave days. Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays are normal days. No one treats Chloe any different. Wednesdays and weekends, on the other hand..." He looked at me and I giggled. "Those are slave days. Chloe's our bitch the moment she's in the dorm."

Just hearing it said like that was great. I already liked the sound of it, but the feel of it would be even better.

"Now it's time for you to hear your rules, Bitch."

Bitch. He had called me bitch. For a second, the prospect of what was coming felt overwhelming, as if my body and soul would not be able to take all that amount of fun. "I'm all ears," I said.

"All right. Take off all your clothes."

I squinted and tried my best impression of an offended person, even though I knew I sucked, and my smile was visible. "Did you really just ask me to get naked?"

"I didn't ask. That's an order."

Matt joined in. "Let's make something clear, Chloe, you shut up and obey on slave days, understood?"

I gave them my best pretend sigh, as if I hated the idea. Then I complied, and took off my socks, my pants, my top, and finally, my underwear. I stood start naked in front of all my sixteen classmates and put my hands behind my back as if they were tied. I loved being so exposed in front of all them. It was so humiliating, so sexy...

"That's the first rule," Brian said. "No clothes for you. When you enter the room, you get naked, understood?"

"Yes Sir."

The rest of the rules were simple; I had to be obedient, I had to fetch them beers when they wanted me to, I would be tied from time to time and even collared... Phew... It was so much... Every rule they mentioned just made me more and more pumped. There was an urge for me to just drop on my knees. It felt wrong to stand in front of them. The ground was beckoning and telling me to lower myself.

After listing the rules, they cleared the coffee table in the center of the room and told me to climb on it. "On all fours, Chloe."

I obeyed and did as they said. Now I looked like a literal bitch, naked and on all fours on the coffee table. The little platform and my static pose made me feel like a vase exposed in a museum—talk about objectification. I loved it.

"When you're in the dorm during slave days, we own you," Adam declared. "Everyone, come have a feel. Touch the bitch. Let her know her place."

The guys got up, and seconds later, I had sixteen pairs of hands feeling up every part, every inch, every curve of my body. I had never felt more objectified in my life. I didn't have the right to move—I had to stay there, on all fours, completely naked. Some of the hands were rougher, and they squeezed my ass and tits so hard that they got groans out of me, but many of the boys were gentle, and they caressed my total nudity the way you would caress a pet lovingly. It felt so relaxing... I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the moment—it was like a free massage I was getting.

Tom was petting my hair. I looked up at him with a loving smile while sucking on Ian's fingers. He was one of the more insecure photographers of our group, I couldn't tell you how many times I had comforted him when he felt untalented. But now he didn't have those cute puppy eyes, and he was standing tall over me, fully clothed, petting me like I was his bitch. I couldn't be more proud of him. The group groping went on for minutes, and as all sixteen of them rotated around me like planets around their star, I kept noticing the hard bulges in their pants, right at my mouth's level.

I looked up at them with an innocent, begging look. "Can I please have I taste?" I asked gently.

Noah grabbed my hair and pulled it. "Easy, Chloe. We'll take things one step at a time. We haven't reached blowjob stage yet."

"Just a taste, please... I won't suck and swallow, fine. Just put them in my mouth for one second. One second, that's it."

They deliberated between them and agreed—it would be a little taste of what was to come. I noticed how they didn't pull their pants down and instead opened their zippers to free their cocks. I had left a note to the BDSM-savvy members of the gang letting them know how I liked things. One sided nudity was one of the things I really enjoyed. It made me feel ten times more dominated when the boys stayed fully clothed. It was as if nudity was the mark of humiliation and submission—and I was completely naked while not an inch of their body was bared except for their cocks, hard and ready.

I looked at all those cocks appearing around me, one by one. Holy shit... Sixteen cocks was... a LOT. I hadn't realized just how many that was... And realizing this made me even more aroused.

"One suck each, don't get greedy," Julian said.

"Yes Sir."

I started with his. I leaned forward and wrapped my lips around his shaft. His cock felt hard and strong in my mouth. I gave it a good suck and thanked him. One by one, they placed themselves in front of me and put their cocks in my mouth for a few seconds, hand on my head, while the others kept fondling my bare body. Every time one of the cocks left, I felt frustrated, wishing it had stayed just one more second. I loved getting to know my classmates this way—each of them had a different feel and a different taste.

I couldn't even process the entire extent of the humiliation. After a minute, I had hosted the cocks of every single one of my classmates in my mouth. Every. Single. One. I was now more of a slut than I had ever been before, and I was proud of it. "Thank you," I giggled, happy to have tasted each and every cock. I was ready to suck away, but Noah was right—I would wait a week and a half until everyone's STI tests had returned. Being wild is good and all, but safety is more so.

Thankfully, none of the boys were particularly promiscuous and sex-crazed, and most in fact had not had sex in months—our photography program was an intensive one and there was very little time to settle down with a partner, hence why most had broken up with their girlfriends two months into college; a love versus career choice, basically. The only one presently with a partner was Noah, but he and his girl were in an open relationship, so I could enjoy myself without feeling guilty.

In fact, as the boys returned to fondling me, I realized that our current arrangement was almost an organic, natural response to the lack of sex in our collective lives. Here was this intensive program where members of a gang had no time to find relationships, and that gang had one girl. And that girl just happened to be the biggest slut you could imagine; one whose mouth was wide open for all her classmates. Mark looked me in the eye while caressing my back along with four others—the more popular tits and ass regions were currently used by others, and I had left in my note the desire for my pussy to be touched only at the very end of each slave day, otherwise I wouldn't be able to focus with my arousal constantly in a state of full activity. I returned his look and smiled.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Like I'm your bitch. And that's the best feeling ever."

Days passed. It was Monday, and class had finished. I had told Sam to meet me in the parking lot in front of the college. He had asked if we could meet at another time, since he had been doing overtime at his job, and wanted to relax for a few hours. I, however, was the kind of leader who accepted no excuses—we had one month to deliver our photography project, and everyone would put 100% of their effort into it, period. And so, Sam came, having obeyed. Matt had put it perfectly; I was the gang's Queen, and you didn't disobey a Queen if you wanted to keep your head on your shoulders.

"So," I said to the rather cute, brown-haired, glasses wearing boy. "Your problem is composition, Sam. There's always too much space in one corner of your pictures."

"Jim says it's not so bad, though."

"Jim's not the most savage teacher, he's ready to say bullshit so you won't feel bad. But I ain't Jim. Sam, your composition needs work, got it?"

"Got it," he chuckled. They knew not to argue with me when it came to technique.

I had him take his camera and told him to go take pictures of the cars in the parking lot. He had two minutes to take as many pictures as he could, and I had given him a precise objective: to make all the pics as symmetrical as possible. The cars had to be in the dead center of the image, and I wanted that symmetry to be mathematically perfect. Anything less would not do. Sam had to work on that.

He returned after two minutes, showing me his pics with a proud smile. I chuckled and deleted all of them.

"What?" he exclaimed. "But they were good..."

"Not even close," I said. "The negative space was always bigger on one side."

"Oh, come on, it's ultra-subtle. No one will notice."

"Judges in a photography contest will. Do it again."

He chuckled and went back for another two minutes. I felt like those teachers in Karate Kid type movies, where they have their students do tasks repeatedly until they get them right. I may not have been an actual teacher, but I was definitely the gang's mentor. He returned and I gave him some more of my tough love—the pictures were a little more symmetrical, but they still didn't have the mathematical perfection I wanted. He went and returned once more.

"Still not there," I said. He groaned playfully, but I looked him in the eye in a very serious way. "Listen here, Sam. I'm not gonna take any risks with that contest. Our project is a bunch of pictures strung together to form a bigger mosaic. You know what that means? Every individual picture has to symmetrical, otherwise it won't come together perfectly. If you can't get your pics symmetrical, I'll take the photos instead of you."

He understood. I got up and showed him how I did it—giving him tips on posture and how to look at the image in order to ensure perfect visual balance. "Try taking pics of vertical stuff," I said, doing it with a streetlamp. "You get a better idea of the negative space on both sides."

The speed and efficiency at which I took the pics impressed him. It was that kind of "impressed" feeling that motivates you to do better, and I could read that motivation on his face. "Work on it, Sam, you can do it, but you need to put work into it."

"Yes Chloe."

I chuckled and gave him back his camera. "All right, leave, I wanna listen to music."

Days passed, and the next Wednesday came around. Just like the Wednesday prior, I was nude and on all fours on the coffee table. They were again fondling and groping my body as a group, but that was only a side event—the main event was something else. Training was going on, though it wasn't me training for anything, it was the boys. I was now their bitch three days of the week, and that meant I would need to be kept in my place constantly. One of the best ways to do that was spanking, but since not all of them were used to BDSM, they were training to get better at it.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! One of the boys was slapping away at my ass—though I could not say who, since he was behind me. The atmosphere was great; there was music playing loudly in the dorm to mask the sounds of my spanking—we didn't want the entire hallway outside hearing—and the boys were eating pizza they had ordered and chatting away. About seven or eight were fondling my body, waiting for their turn to get to spank me. Noah and Matt would give them advice and help them, showing them how to do it.

"Don't hold back," I heard Matt said, "put the bitch in her place." I loved how he talked about me in the third person as if I was just some animal who didn't deserve being communicated with. I was just some naked slut they could use to make their spanking technique better. To give the example, Matt spanked me hard, and I mean, HARD. Whoever he was showing the gesture to imitated it, landing an equally strong smack on my ass.

"OW!" I screamed, even though I shouldn't have. They had told me to shut up while I was getting spanked, and I had just disobeyed that order for something like the tenth time.

"Shut the bitch's mouth bro," Julian said to Sam who stood in front of me, caressing my body along the others. He went to my room and returned with one of my dildos in hand, shoving it in my mouth. The silicone filled my mouth, and so my subsequent screams were muted. The spanks continued for a few minutes, and the dildo in my mouth kept me silent.

Sam took out the dildo after a while, wiping it on my body to remove all the saliva. "Keep quiet, bitch," he ordered as the spanks continued.

"Yes Sir," I said, looking up at him. One of the subsequent spanks was too well landed, however, and my mouth produced a sound. Sam gave me a hard slap on the face and pulled my hair. It made me groan and giggle with arousal.

"Keep quiet or you're getting another slap," he said.

"Yes Sir." I rubbed my face against his jeans where his hard-on was raging, finding comfort and protection in the promise of that hard cock behind the denim. I left my face there, breathing hard and feeling the comforting presence of it. Sam's cock was there, his fingers held my hair, and I looked up at him with total obedience in my eyes.

The next day, we were all sitting in the classroom after class had ended. I was presenting the overall plan to the boys: showing them which parts of the city we would take photos of, and more importantly, who would go to each location.

"Matt, you're going downtown with Dylan. Focus on the skyscrapers and the vertical parts, and don't forget to show the people in the streets. Get me at least 50 photos, got it?"

They nodded. I briefed out each of them so everyone would get the literal big picture. The larger mosaic in my mind was very specific, and the exact palette I wanted would only come to life if we took pics of specifically well-chosen locations. They asked me questions—what lens to use, what angles, etc. I provided them with the answers they needed, and once the meeting was over, I called for Chris to come over.

"I looked at your pics man, you'll have to do it again," I said. Chris had already completed his part of the city, and he had brought me his photos two days prior.

"What's wrong with them?"

"Look at the top." He noticed the sky appearing above the buildings and groaned.

"Ah fuck... I forgot."

"You forgot big time," I chuckled, playfully slapping the back of his head. I had to told him to not show the sky and to stop the framing right where the roofs ended, but he had forgotten that detail.

"It's a one-hour trip with the subway..." he said, looking at me with a bit of a pleading expression. "You're not going to send over there again for that, are you?"

"Yes I am."

"But... the pics are great otherwise."

"You know me Chris, either do it 100% or don't do it. You're getting those pics for me again, understood?"

He smiled. "Understood."

Maybe you think I was harsh with them, but the truth is, they welcomed the authority. Sixteen boys running around were like headless chickens—they needed one person calling the shots with a cohesive, coherent vision, and that was me. Sometimes, people prefer not calling the shots and letting others have some authority. I knew that better than anyone.

That week ended and it was now Saturday evening. Weekends were the most surreal slave days because the ENTIRETY of it had me totally nude and in a state of utter, complete obedience. It was the evening now, with the boys sitting down and watching the live football game. I stood next to one of the couches, nude with my hands behind my back, ready for any order. I felt a good slap on my ass. I turned and smiled at Chris.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Go fetch us beers, bitch."

I obeyed and went to the kitchen. The ceramic floor was cold under my bare feet. I got as many beer cans as I could and went back and forth from the living room to the kitchen, serving them their drinks. They called me "good bitch" and "good girl" as I gave them the cans. I also received slaps on the ass as an additional way of patronizingly being thanked. After I was done, I returned to my post next to the couches to wait for orders, but then I noticed Chris looking at me again.

"Hey, go..." He stopped himself mid-sentence. It was as if he had realized something, and he chuckled to himself before saying, "No, forget it."

Forget what? "What is it?" I asked.

"Nothing. I'm not gonna say it, it would be horrible."

"Say what?"

He was adamant on not answering, but I wouldn't let it go. I had to know what he was hiding. "You would have found it insulting," he said.

I chuckled and knelt in front of him. "I'll decide if it's insulting when you tell me. Come on, tell me. Come on..." I looked up at him, putting my chin on his knee. "Tell me, please... I wanna know."

He sighed embarrassingly. "I didn't eat this afternoon. I'm hungry, so I was gonna tell you to..."

I understood where he was going and burst into laughter. He was SO embarrassed by it, and it made him look SO cute... "You were gonna tell me to make you a sandwich?" I asked between two giggles. He nodded but quickly added that he didn't want me to. My laughter calmed down, but my smile wouldn't go. I looked up at him and thought about it for a bit. There he was, manly man watching a football game with a can of beer in his hand, fully clothed alongside the other boys while I, the only girl, knelt totally naked in front of him. Sure, the whole "make me a sandwich thing" had sexist origins... But Fanta was made in 1940's Germany and their uniforms were Hugo Boss. Doesn't mean Fanta and Hugo Boss in and of themselves are evil—it's how you use them that matters.