This chapter would not exist without Synful Mistress's help. She gave me the ideas and got the ball rolling when I wasn't sure what to write next. Seriously, check her out. She's awesome.
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After my last lesson, I managed to get back to my dorm in one piece, my ass still red and reeling from the punishment Mistress Syn had given me. I felt as low as could be, a fact not helped by the Ziploc baggie in my pocket that contained a pair of her used panties.
My homework it seemed.
There was a time when the idea of having a gorgeous woman's panties in my possession- let alone being told to jerk off with them, would have sounded like a dream come true. But now? Now it was just another chapter in the ever-growing nightmare of submission my life had become ever since I had foolishly gotten involved with Mistress Syn.
Once I got inside, I locked the door behind me and sighed. Half the day was over and done, and all I had to show for it was a red ass and further humiliation on the horizon. Pulling the baggie from my pocket, I stared at the red and black lacy panties inside, the stains filling me with disgust.
Warily, I stripped out of my clothes, took a seat on the couch- nearly jumping in pain the moment my aching bottom touched the cushions, and picked up the Ziploc. Opening it, the strong scent of sweat poured out, and I knew without question that this particular pair was one Mistress Syn had worn quite a bit, as well as one which had likely been marinating in that clothes hamper for some time.
Much as I didn't want to, I slipped them out and placed them over my nose, the scent washing over me almost immediately, and began to slowly stroke my cock.
It wasn't easy to get hard, the pain from Mistress Syn's cane still prevalent, but I forced myself to keep going, stroking up and down my shaft while taking in shallow breaths. The scent of sweat was indeed strong, and though I could just barely smell what I gathered was her pussy juice somewhere underneath it, there wasn't enough for me to gain any enjoyment.
Only the smell of dirty, sweaty fabric going in and out of my nostrils while I stroked my cock, wishing I were smelling her pussy and ass instead.
It was humiliating to think about, yet a part of me continued to enjoy it.
Even with everything else that had happened- especially with everything that had happened today alone, I found it difficult to fully separate my growing lust from the source of it. Here I was, sitting naked in my dorm sniffing someone's used panties and masturbating while doing so.
Someone who had- by this point, forced me to sniff and lick their sweaty feet, smothered me with those same feet as well as their ass, made me clean their dorm from top to bottom while wearing a slutty maid's outfit, canned my backside, and had me paying for the 'privilege' of it all.
Twisted as it all was, I knew there was nothing whatsoever I could do about it. Mistress Syn had countless pictures and videos of our various 'lessons', let alone whatever videos she'd recorded while I was cleaning her dorm. Regardless of the context, even one of those would be enough to get me kicked out of school, and likely ruin my life.
So I stroked my cock, felt it grow harder and harder with each pass and each breath, felt the coming bliss of an orgasm and forced myself to stop.
The agony of denial was rough, and I felt tears form in my eyes for the second time today, but I knew this was only the beginning. Mistress Syn had demanded I do this over and over, every day until she said otherwise, and after today I dared not disobey her again.
As my cock slowly deflated from lack of contact, I slipped the panties back into the baggie and started to cry. I repeated this scene three more times before the day was through, each time getting myself so close to cumming before stopping. Each time it got a little easier, but I still felt so damn pathetic.
I tried to convince myself that this was fine. That I didn't really want to cum- which was a lie. After all of Mistress Syn's lessons, after being in her presence, I was beyond horny like it or not, but the idea of cumming whilst being forced to breathe in the scent of her well-worn panties still disgusted me.
At least, for a little while.
By the end of that first week, things started to change. I couldn't explain why- maybe some sort of weird association thing, but whereas before I'd needed to force myself to jerk off while sniffing those panties, now my cock sprung to life on its own. In fact, the moment I looked at the baggie, I started to get horny.
I didn't like that one bit, but there really wasn't much I could do about it. Mistress Syn had me by the balls in more ways than one, a fact she happily reminded me of that weekend. Though she did not grace me with her presence, she texted me late Sunday night, and her words, even on my phone, carried with them such incredible wickedness.
"Hope you've been doing your homework every day Trinket ;)..."
`There was no point sending a response, at least not one with words. Instead, I opened up my bank app and transferred a tribute to her. Payment for this latest lesson.
She replied with a black heart, and then nothing more, and I continued on as she had commanded, edging myself over and over even as my cock begged for a release I wasn't allowed to grant it. Only Mistress Syn could do such a thing, and I had my doubts she ever would.
As that first week ended and the next one began, I continued to do the same, but by the middle of it, I grew somewhat concerned. I hadn't seen or heard from her since that brief message, and by the following weekend began to question if, perhaps, she'd finally had enough fun with me or decided I'd finally learned my lesson.
It was a foolish thing to think of course, but given I'd managed to get myself into such a mess in the first place, it was no surprise I'd somewhat find a way to dig a deeper hole for myself even if I didn't mean to. Even so, after two weeks of edging, two weeks of denial, two weeks without any further lessons from Mistress Syn, I guess I wasn't thinking straight. Or at all.
You see, even with all of this going on, I tried to keep living my life just as I had before our first fateful meeting. I worked my part-time job, went to my classes and did my assignments, putting on the facade of a normal College student so that no one would suspect the truly deviant activities I'd found myself doing.
And during one of those classes, I made my next mistake.
I'd noticed her a few times before, but like with Mistress Syn before her, never managed to say a word to her. Her name was Jane, and she was short, cute and quite sweet. In essence, the very opposite of Mistress Syn, at least in attitude. Maybe that's what attracted me to her, the idea of maybe spending time with someone so different from what I was slowly growing used to.
On a whim, we started chatting, and I asked if she wanted to grab a coffee after class. She happily accepted, and for the first time since all this had started, I felt normal again. As if I had the possibility of a normal College student life regardless of everything else.
