Special thanks to kenjisato, a generous volunteer in Literotica.com's Volunteer Editors program, for editing this piece. All remaining errors and questionable stylistic choices are the sole responsibility of the author.
******
My name's Jenny and I'm twenty. I like the little rhyme; it makes me smile. I think I have a birthday coming up soon, but I'll have to check with the Mistresses.
My life before college is mostly a blur, but I do remember bits of pieces from that summer before my first semester. With the help of Mistress Vivienne, my new life came into focus over the course of several months, accompanied by a prettier, happier, more studious me. By Orientation Day, my mind was fully prepared for what lay ahead. I knew I would remember everything clearly unless the college didn't want me to. Whatever they didn't want me to remember, I'd simply forget.
The very first thing I remember about that day is waking up in bed, naked and plugged, with Mistress Vivienne gently asserting her control over me as the big spoon. I think it was the first time I'd woken up to someone in the same bed as me, and it instantly filled me with a host of good feelings. I felt safe, loved, and assured that everything was going to be okay. Even though I didn't know exactly what life had in store for me next, I knew the college had a plan for me, and that all I had to do was follow it.
I squirmed, sighed, and stretched. Mistress Vivienne's hands started moving across my body, paying special attention to my perky college-girl titties.
"Good morning, Jenny," she said. "How did you sleep?" I could hear the dominant love in her voice. I could also feel her nipples brushing up against my back. They were a little wet. I got hungry.
"So well, Mistress," I replied. "Thank you so much for being with me. It makes me happy."
"I rather enjoy it, too," she replied. "Oh, I wish we could stay in this bed all day, Jenny. You are a treasure. But today is a very big day, and we've got lots to do! Let's get you fed."
I let her hands guide me to our new position. She lay mostly on her back, propped up just a little, and had me curl into her side. Once I'd latched on and begun to suckle, she grasped my wrist and guided my hand towards her sex.
"Pet me, like I pet you," she whispered. "No need for anything fancy."
Her pussy was soft and wet; the tips and pads of my fingers glided over it. Even amidst the sublime pleasures of Mistress' breast, nipple, and warm milk, I could feel tiny thrills traveling up each of my digits, then my arms, and then towards my many other fun places. I felt another good feeling, too: I was pleasing my Mistress. That was a wave washing over me. It made me sigh into her breast and relax into her body -- which, like mine, had been properly educated to experience all manner of emotional and sexual delights that overlapped, commingled, and swirled about like playful water. Our bodies were moving around like water itself, mine guided by hers. Together, we were slowly, subtly, sensually dancing right there on the bed.
"You should always thank your dorm Mistresses for feeding you," she said dreamily. "Don't you worry, though; they'll tell you exactly how to do it. Mmmm, oh, that's good, Jenny. I remember when I was a dorm Mistress for a year: one college girl suckling, the other licking my pussy or my asshole, and then they'd switch... oh, you're going to love college, Jenny."
She had to stop talking, then, because she came. It was gentle and easy, but I could tell right away; I knew it had started in her breast, helped along by my stroking fingers. The warm milk inside of me -- even the delicious stuff pouring into my mouth and down my throat at that very moment -- told me I'd done a wonderful thing.
"Good girl, Jenny," she said, and it sent a new wave of pleasure over and through me. Milk and my Mistress agreed I was good. Everything was perfect.
Mistress Vivienne let me ease the pressure in both her breasts; by the end of my feeding, I was blissed out of my mind on her warm milk, her pleasure, her praise, and the feeling of her fingers running through my pretty blonde hair. When she took me over her knee for my morning spanks, all I really felt was the ripple effect on my anal plug, plus more sublime, submissive satisfaction. She didn't make me count out loud; she knew I was too far gone. I just had to thank her once at the end, and I did.
It was only six light spanks. It wasn't a punishment; it was barely even discipline. She was more interested in stroking and massaging me -- both my butt and my back. Still, we were on a schedule, so, with a sigh, she kept the morning moving by withdrawing my plug. That, I felt. The stretching woke me back up a little. Once it was out, I felt very empty.
Mistress knew, and soothed me right away. "You're unplugged because I want you to be unplugged," she said. "Our next stop is the bathroom, and then the shower. After that, we'll get you dressed up again for your big day."
Just like that, I felt fine.
After I got up off her lap, I followed her into the bathroom, enjoying the sight of her swaying hips and flexing ass. I sat and did my business on the toilet under her supervision, locking eyes with her and expressing absolute trust during my vulnerable moment. She returned a strong, reassuring gaze that briefly flickered with lust. I felt completely at her mercy, yet safe from everything else in the whole world. It was a strange kind of naughty fun that reminded me a lot of being over her knee.
We're taught at the college to be circumspect about certain things unless a Mistress or Master tells us otherwise. Let's say that, ever since I'd started drinking that delicious milk, the physical acts involved in using the toilet had become a breeze -- even a minor delight, or a pair of them.
After I was done with all that, Mistress Vivienne led me into the large, modern shower. That was a very fun place, too.
"On your knees, Jenny," she said.
I dropped down and looked up at her. Her beautiful body lorded over mine; her bright blue eyes shone down wickedly.
"I know you're not really mine, Jenny," she said. "You belong to the college. Let's call this an advanced lesson -- a sneak pee...k. Some Masters and Mistresses like to mark their little girls. Some girls even like it so much they do it with other girls sometimes. For your first time, you can close your eyes, but open your mouth and stick out your tongue. Submit to me. Accept my claim."
"Yes, Mistress," I said. I obeyed her commands, and felt her moving closer. After a few moments, hot liquid struck my face, my lips, and my tongue. My taste buds lit up with sharp tang, the zip of salt, and also a thick, familiar sweetness. Far more important, though, was what my nerves and my bloodstream -- so full of warm milk they were practically made of the stuff -- were telling me about the experience: it was good and right, and I was a good little girl for submitting to it. I knew, deep inside, that if Mistress Vivienne hadn't told me we were just having a lesson, I would've sunken ever further into the blissful state of being owned. I was a little disappointed I didn't get to feel that, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that she worked for the college, and I was a student there. That felt good, and I felt smart for having put those pieces together on my own.
