The College of Locs & Eys #02

This story takes place at the Western College of Locks and Keys, a modern academy of magic. Students who choose to pursue this unique program are challenged to follow a strict chastity regimen, to heighten their sensitivity to chemistry, desire, and dom/sub dynamics. These are the sources of their power.

In this one, Nathan and Ruby experiment with a consensual possession spell, Miranda has a little fun on the side, and Ruby comes up with a naughty potential work-around for the chastity belts.

Expect some pegging, some m/f PIV sex, some gentle d/s dynamics, and a whole lot of tease-and-denial frustration.

All depicted sexual interactions are consensual, and all characters are above the age of 18.

***

Nathan

"Please stop looking so glum, you two," Professor Chicory tells us, tapping a stack of papers against her desk. "This happens all the time."

Professor Chicory's personal office has a recessed floor, so that she can stand at her full eight-foot height at one side of her desk, and Ruby and I can sit at the other, with our faces level with hers. She looks strangely less intimidating this close up.

Her centaur hooves clop against the distant tile floor as she shifts her weight.

"The WCLK curriculum is designed to help students learn from each other, as well as from the faculty," Chicory goes on in her clipped, businesslike tone. "It works, most of the time. Some students gain a great deal of power from working in a crowd environment. They learn to absorb and redirect the energy flowing between many people at once. Others find it inspiring and informative to watch the different ways their classmates go about tackling a problem. But at the end of the day, you two are not teachers. You're not being paid for your work. In fact, odds favor that you're taking on substantial debt to be here and receive an education in social magic, and so help me, you will."

Ruby's hand is dangling between our seats, and I'm

almost

sure she wants me to take it and squeeze it in celebration of Chicory's encouraging words. But

almost

isn't enough for me to move my own hand.

"Not everyone performs well on the spot," says Chicory. "It doesn't mean you're not a wizard. Some of the most beautiful and useful social magic happens in private, with careful planning. That's why we have alternatives to the group exams. So, here's what you get to do now. The two of you are going to come up with a piece of domination magic that

you

want to perform, using techniques we've covered so far this semester."

She directs this to me, of course. I'm the one who failed my half of the group exam and put the two of us in this position as a team.

"It can be anything at all, as long as you're both comfortable with it," says Chicory. "But here's the catch. Because you're choosing your own spell and taking your own time with it, the standards for success are significantly higher than if you were responding to a randomized prompt in class."

"Of course." I nod vigorously, trying to sound both grateful for the second chance, and commanding enough to be able to make good on that second chance.

"You'll need to show me a fairly impressive bit of domination magic," Chicory continues. "Ethical, of course, as always, and accompanied by a five-page essay on the process and a brief video clip as proof of your success."

"What about me?" Ruby asks. "Am I still doing my half of the regular exam in class this week?"

A line between Chicory's eyebrow deepens.

"That's up to you," she says. "You and Nathan can develop and work on a second project, with you in the dominant position, or I can ask for volunteers to pair with you for in-class testing."

"Oh," says Ruby.

My heart hammers out an extra few beats when I realize that she sounds disappointed at the thought of switching partners.

"Can't she still use me as her sub for her part?" I ask. "I don't mind."

Chicory gives me a hard look that lasts for several seconds. It feels like she's waiting for me to correct myself on something, but I don't know what.

"You got stage fright in class last week to such a degree that you had to call a stop to the session," Chicory recounts. "You aren't concerned about the same thing happening again?"

"Why would it?" I ask. "It'll be

Ruby's

test. Even if I freeze up, it doesn't matter. All I have to do is sit there and take it, whatever it is."

Chicory rests her elbows on her desk, and her face in her hands. She seems to be trying to rub a fit of sadness from her features before speaking.

"First of all, you need to stop thinking in terms of 'Ruby's test' and 'Nathan's test.'" she says. "The submissive partner is not ballast. They are not a blank page for the dominant partner to write on. There are two of you here, for every part of this exercise. Both of you have a hand in the magic that passes between you. I hope to see you both honor that fact."

#

I've got that cryptic advice still in my ears when Ruby and I check into the library and get ourselves settled in a study pod to brainstorm the possibilities.

This pod is nearly identical to the one we were assigned on Saturday, but it feels different, knowing that we're actually going to be using it for study this time.

Our chastity belts are back in place today, keeping us horny and hyper-attuned to the flow of magical energy circulating between us - what a non-magic-user would call "chemistry."

The chastity schedule of the WCLK curriculum might be more challenging than I was expecting when I selected the program for myself, but never since my first month on campus have I been so tempted to take my key back from the office and request some academic leave.

It wouldn't do me any good if I did, though. I may be horny as hell right now, thinking about what Ruby and I did last time we were alone in a room together, but I know everything will change the moment those salacious thoughts become an actual possibility again. The security of my cage makes it easy to lust and fantasize, knowing that I won't have to follow through any time soon. Once my dick is free and in my hand, it'll stop cooperating, like always.

For now, I just try to enjoy the feeling, the potency of the magic pent up in my body, as frustrating as it is.

"I think we should start with your part-- I mean, the part where you're leading," Ruby starts hesitantly, correcting herself as she goes. "Because we a hundred percent know that we need a project for that, and we need it soon."

"Yeah," I agree. "That... that would be sensible. Thanks."

"So... any thoughts about what you want to do?" she asks.

I want out of this cage.

I want stronger magic, strong enough that I never have to worry about being able to pass a test again.

I want to forge a bond with Ruby so tight and strong that it's guaranteed to last past graduation, right to the end of our lives.

All three of these are things that magic offers no shortcuts for.

I shrug and wish that I had a telepathic line open to Miranda right now. She'd have plenty of ideas.

Lacking that, I think harder on Professor Chicory's advice. The submissive partner is not a blank sheet of paper.

"What do

you

want?" I ask Ruby.

She shrugs too. "Again, I'm sure she'll give us a later deadline for mine, if we--"

"No, I don't mean, 'what do you want to do to me on your turn?'" I clarify. "I mean, 'what do you want

me

to do to

you?

"

"Oh." Ruby smiles down at her hands, twisting in her lap over the front plate of her belt. "We're still talking about school work, right?"

I wish we weren't.

"Yeah," I say. "If you could wish for one thing, I mean, other than the obvious no-gos, what would it be?"

Ruby draws her shoulders up to her ears and thinks for a long while without looking at me. She opens her mouth at least five times without sound, then clamps her eyes shut, and says, "I wish I didn't dread going back to the dorm every night."

"Okay," I say, practically salivating at the sign of a problem to be solved. "Why do you dread it?"

"My roommate, Oakley..." Ruby shakes her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Well, I have to do

something

cool for you, and this is the only lead I've got, so... throw me a bone here?"

Ruby lets out a laugh in spite of herself, and shakes her head again.

"She's just a bit of a prankster," she says. "Struggles with boundaries, thinks everything's a joke. I've tried talking to her about it, but...."

"That only made it worse," I finish, when it's clear Ruby's not going to.

"Yeah."

"Because she's not a 'prankster,'" I say. I've used that word too generously myself from time to time, to avoid using a more accurate one. "She's a

bully

."

Ruby clicks her tongue, like she's trying to physically restrain it from speaking ill of anyone. Then she croaks, "Yeah."

"She makes you never want to tell anyone how you feel, or what you want, or ever again, because you'll only be teaching them how to hurt you more easily."

Something has gone hard in my stomach, and I almost don't say "she," because I'm thinking of every bully I've ever known. Most of the ones in my life weren't shes. But I manage to stay here, with Ruby, immersed in her case.

Ruby clears her throat and nods. "Yeah. But what can we do about that?"

That is the question, isn't it?

"What if...?" I glance around the bare study pod for inspiration. "What if I could make you tougher for a little while? Give her a chance to break her fist on your face without you feeling a thing? Might make her think twice before she goes after you again."

"Oh, no, she'd probably never even notice," says Ruby. "She doesn't hit me. Hints at it sometimes, but no. She just makes fun of me. Steals things. Breaks things. Sends gross messages to people from my phone. Switches off my alarm clock in the middle of the night to make me late for class. That sort of stuff."

"Shit, okay..." I adjust to this sinister level of creativity. "Well, maybe I could, I don't know, put a shield around you? A big one, that would protect your whole side of the room while you get some sleep? Or it could be more like an emotional shield, so that nothing she says can affect you for a while?"

"Yeah, I guess," says Ruby. "An emotional shield. That could be nice."

I wish she didn't sound so polite about it. But it's the best idea I've got.

Her hand is lying palm up on the couch between us.

I have an excuse this time, so I take it, and feel for the thread of magic connecting us.

#

Miranda

Drew is making so much noise that someone's probably reported us for suspected cheating by now. I should have gagged him, but honestly, I wanted to get a reaction out of someone today, and I wanted to hear it at full volume.

Handholding Nate through his free play with Ruby on Saturday left me weirdly more fucked up than any other tease I've endured since starting at WCLK. Knowing what I was helping him do to her, for her, without being able to see or hear or feel anything myself... I didn't even know what to do with myself when it was over. I had half a day left with no chastity belt, but I was too stuck in my head to go make any fun last-minute plans of my own.

Maybe it wasn't even the weird vicarious nature of helping him fuck Ruby that was messing with me. Maybe I'd just spent too much time in the swirling, neurotic sinkhole that is Nate's brain.

In the end, I spent the day alone with toys, racing the clock to work out every last bit of horniness I could before locking time. It was better than nothing, but I'm still so much antsier than I normally would be by this time of the week.

Today, I snapped and decided that I couldn't wait another two weeks to blow off some steam in some kind of a hot and dirty manner.

Zeke is still mad at me for bailing on him, and Bernice is dealing with one of her mom's meltdowns, so I had to put out feelers for anyone else in need of the same. Drew and I have done maybe one project together. I was lucky I even got his name right when I asked if I could come over.

Now I've got him bent over the edge of his dorm bed, with my thickest strap-on buried deep in his ass.

"Oh fuck," he groans and sinks his teeth deep into his forearm. "Mmmm. Yeah. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh fuck, stop, stop."

I stop and hold perfectly still.

"Oh fuck, you're going to make me cum in my cage," he moans, but doesn't drag himself off of the dildo. In fact, he's sliding his way a little bit deeper.

"Uh-uh, nope, not happening," I say, placing my hand firmly on his ass, keeping him as still as I am. "I don't cum, you don't cum."

"I know," he moans.

"This is just play," I tell him. "Just enjoying our senses for a little while."

Yeah, I get the irony of the fact that wearing an unfeeling dildo over a chastity belt is one of the

most

sensory interactions I've had this month.

"I'm going to burst," Drew moans, scraping his stubble along his arms.

"Just rest," I tell him, giving his ass firm, reassuring squeezes. "Breathe."

"Please," he sighs. "Do something."

"Okay." I give his ass a slap. "Bad boy. Getting so close to wasting all that precious magical sensitivity." I slap him again, imagining myself smacking that threatening orgasm away, kicking it farther down the road like an old tin can.

"Use it," begs Drew. "Use my magic. Cast a spell."

"Mmm, I could. What would you like me to do to you?" I ask, lightly tickling the pink marks I just left on him.

"I don't care," he moans. "Just anything. Turn me into something. Maybe something... something that doesn't have a prostate?"

I don't let myself think.

I just form my wish in my mind, and shove it down the string of magic connecting us.

Drew offers himself up easily, completely, lending so much magic to the effect that only a small seed of it needs to pass through me.

My vision takes shape in front of me.

Drew shrinks, along every axis. His muscles and the roughness of his body hair retreat, leaving smooth, freckled skin. The hair on his head lengthens and tinges reddish. He pushes himself up on his hands and looks down at them.

"Am I a girl?" he asks, in a higher than usual voice.

Not just any girl. He's a perfect doppelganger for Ruby, but he's facing away from the mirror, and doesn't seem in any hurry to turn around. His focus is inward, on sensations too deep for a mirror to offer any insight into. He shoves himself experimentally deeper onto the dildo and gasps.

"How does it feel?" I ask.

"Weird," he answers. "I'm still so horny, but it's... rearranged."

"Are you still worried you're going to pop off just from me fucking your ass?" I ask, thrusting into the middle of Ruby's high, heart-shaped pair of cheeks.

"No," Drew moans, hammering himself back against me with a gasping, painful-sounding wail. "But fuck, I still want to!"

"Same," I tell him, and grab his ass, his copy of

her

ass, to take control of the motion again for a few seconds.

He bites his newly narrow, freckled arm and takes what I give him so beautifully. When I push the dildo in all the way to the harness, he softly discovers the new upper ranges of his voice. I hold it there and push, and push, until I can almost feel my pussy brush the inside of my chastity belt's front plate. I'm a millimeter away from being able to grind on the steel surface, but of course, I'll never quite reach it. The fit and the magic make sure of that.

Drew is fondling his new breasts with wary awe.

"This is temporary, right?" he asks.

"Shh, of course," I pat his ass. "I can't make permanent changes alone, even if you wanted me to."

Just to assure him -- and maybe myself, a little, because him getting stuck like this and me having to explain it is something I don't need -- I pick a new form for him, again without making myself think about it.

He gets just a little taller, still skinny, still satisfyingly well-suited to being bent over the side of a bed.

Nate.

"Oh fuck, prostate," Drew groans. "It exists. I gotta stop."

He crawls up onto the bed to slide his way off of the dildo, and lies gasping and panting against his blanket.

Even though his presence on my strap-on doesn't directly stimulate my body, I feel a deep, shuddering, tantalizing discomfort shoot through me with his absence. As if I actually had the possibility of an orgasm to lose.

I take off the strap-on and drop the spell completely, letting Drew's body spread back out into its natural shape.

"Turn sideways," I direct, and he does, making room for me to lie down and spoon him while we cool off.

"Oh boy. That was... I'm so glad you were into that," Drew sighs.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I ask. "I'm the one who hit

you

up. And you've got a nice ass."

He does, in his way, even if it isn't one of the particular asses I've been annoyingly stuck on lately.

"Sure," says Drew, running a self-satisfied hand up the muscular curve of that ass of his. "But I wasn't sure, since... you know

.

"

"No, I don't know," I say, partly because he's clearly dancing around something and needs a good kick in the pants to spit it out, but also because I really don't know what the fuck he's talking about. If anyone around here basically has

Up for Anything

stamped on their forehead, it's me.

"Nothing," says Drew. "I just mean... you obviously didn't like having a penis. So, I didn't know if it'd be, like, triggering, or something, for you to use a fake one."

I groan and put my arm over my face.

I only spent two weeks here before I got my transition procedures done in the school clinic, and they're perfect. Absolutely perfect, far above and beyond what the most skilled nonmagical doctor could have done. And unlike what my own skills can produce, they

are

permanent.

Honestly, I think that's part of what first attracted me to the study of magic, even before I was out to

myself

as trans, let alone to anyone else. Some part of me always knew the body I needed, and was always working to maneuver me into a place where I could get it.

No one at WCLK except for Nate even knew me during those first two weeks of classes, but now it's like I can't live down having once looked like some awkward, incompletely formed version of myself that no one even noticed at the time.

Drew can tell I'm uncomfortable.

"Sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to make a thing of it. I don't care, I just thought

you

might."

I sigh and put my arm down. I don't have the power to take us back in time to before he brought it up, so I might as well just own it.

"Babe," I climb over him to lie on the side where I can face him, "I've got what everyone who likes hetero-ish sex, even a little, wishes they had, and if they don't wish it, they should. I've got the parts that fit me,

and

I've got the most intimate possible knowledge of how the other half lives."

I reach out and grab Drew around the cage.

"I gave you the tiniest scrap of that gift today," I tell him. "You got to feel what having a pussy is like, for about ten seconds. But I

lived

with a cock for almost nineteen years. So, when I tell you that I know how tight that cage is feeling," I squeeze its bars, "when I talk about the soreness, the ache in your balls, the extra special frustration of needing to get hard and not even being able to do that, you know that I'm not guessing, or imagining, or repeating what I've been told. I'm a woman who knows

exactly

how a cock works. A woman you can't fucking bullshit about it. Isn't that just the best?"

Drew is straight-up quivering.

He kisses me, and clearly doesn't want to stop. We're heating up all over again, and I know there's going to be another stab of disappointment when we inevitably have to cut this off, without any natural climax.