Chapter 3 - Making it Rain By Lindsay Lockwood
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The following chapter contains sex between submissive transgender girls and women, and cis men. It features chastity, BDSM, degradation, humiliation, shackles, along with buckets and buckets of piss. If this isn't your bag, feel free to skip this chapter.
As mentioned before, each chapter revolves around a different fetish or combination of fetishes starring the students and staff of Aphrodite Academy. You can send feedback to lockedlittleslut@proton.me, and yes, I do take requests! Or, if you feel so inclined, some fan mail wouldn't go astray.
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Sir Stewart stroked my hair, and with a warmth I'd earned through pain told me that my future in the academy was bright. If anything could make me melt, it was that. He asked if there was any special activity that had piqued my interest, but I was still weighing my options.
"I think paying a visit to the senior bathrooms in Hall C might be in order," he said.
"But I'm only a fresher," I said. "Would I be allowed in there?"
"You're more than allowed," he said, "but use of the facilities by first years is considered... let's say `impractical'."
I knew better than to press further. This was one of those things I'd have to see for myself, tomorrow, after I'd slept off the scene.
The senior bathrooms were down a flight of stairs and at the end of an underground hall. There are no gendered bathrooms at the academy. Why would there need to be? Femmes and girls went in together all the time, and male faculty always took advantage.
I shuffled past the other girls. Despite being around the same height they were still... bigger; whether it was cleavage spilling out of their blouses, oversized clitties reaching below their hemline, slapping against their thighs or both, they were a stark contrast from a puffy chested first year whose bits were locked in steel.
They cooed as I passed, as though anticipating the lesson I was sure to learn. I'd learned a lot of lessons at Aphrodite Academy - the harder the better - but the trepidation never left me.
I pressed through the swinging door and moved past the sinks. What I saw next made me gasp.
There, sat on their knees on the tile floor, were three senior girls, naked save for their stockings; one with hands bound to the floor, one with arms tied behind her back, and the last with her wrists shackled to the wall above her head. Each of them were soaking wet and glistening in the light. Pale gold pooled on the floor beneath them, and ran into a drain.
The girl with her hands shackled turned to me with a lazy, drunken stare. She had two words scribbled on her tits in sharpie. One the left was PISS' with dozens of tally marks beneath. The other read CUM' with about half as many marks. Her mouth fell open, ready to take whatever I had to give; and she was hard as a rock all the while.
I was dumbfounded. Sure, I knew watersports was on the curriculum, but having a dedicated bathroom for it? The more I thought about it, the more it made sense, but it'd be a while until reality set in.
The door swung open, and a group of seniors filed in. At the front of the pack was a blond haired girl with a messy ponytail, wearing a soccer uniform dripping with sweat. Her monster of a package strained against her shorts.
Her teammates crowded the other urinals, two or three at a time. The captain looked me up and down, and didn't seem impressed.
"You going to use that, newbie?" she said, tilting her head toward the nearest human toilet. "I've got to piss."
I stepped out of the way, lost for words.
The blond girl was nonchalant as she flopped her cock out, and mercenary as she twisted a handful of the urinal's hair in her hand and pulled her forward. Even soft, she filled the slut's mouth and forced her to gag. She waited a moment, then I saw the relief as she let her pee flow.
I couldn't pull my eyes from the urinal who stared up with tears. She begged silently, even as piss spilled out of her mouth.
"Swallow," ordered the captain, and the urinal did. She choked it down and moaned like the whore we all aspired to be.
The captain didn't pull out once she was done. Instead she glared at me as she plunged deeper into the mouth in front of her. The urinal contorted around her as she got hard, and bobbed back and forth instinctually.
My clit strained against its confinement. It'd been a long time since I'd been free; even longer since I'd stood up to use the bathroom, but now it was all I could think about! Or maybe I wanted to be on the floor, ready to be saturated with whatever came my way. I'd never drunk piss before, but the acrid smell drew me back to the men's room floor where the recruiter found me.
"See something you like, newbie?" asked the captain.
I nodded dumbly.
She smiled a wicked smile. "Maybe you should have a taste. Not that you have any choice." She reached under my skirt and wrenched my pearls, causing me to stumble into her.
The other girls laughed and pulled out from the urinals. Their cocks hung low with golden drops still dangling from the tips. Like a pack of animals they circled and grabbed my arms. I couldn't resist, even if I wanted to.
There was a look beneath the stupor of each of the urinals; the frustration of being denied, and the excitement of breaking a new girl in. Their lazy, used expressions told me this wouldn't be an experience I'd soon forget.
With wild abandon, the captain tore open my blouse, and ripped the pleated skirt from my waist. She pawed at my still budding nipples, sending a jolt up my spine. Her teammates hummed in approval as their hands ran over me, cupping my ass and probing fingers between. I pressed into their touch.
Next I was forced to the ground. In place of shackles, the soccer team held my arms tight. I was helpless beneath them while their captain swung her piece from side to side. I followed it as she swayed, and leaned forward to take it between my lips.
She lifted her cock so that it was just out of reach. "You're lucky I still have some left," she said.
Her slit opened, and a pale golden stream filled my mouth. It tasted just as it smelled; sour, salty, and with a bitter tang. At first it came as a shock, but the humiliation and arousal saw me warm to it. It didn't have to taste good, so long as I served like a good slut does.
The soccer team used me, sometimes two or three at a time. They didn't always aim for my mouth, and soon their piss was cooling as it ran down my body. I was marked from head to toe, made property of the seniors. If they stopped, it was only to take turns fucking my throat. One by one they drove hard and deep, robbing me of air, before allowing one of their teammates to switch in.
I don't know how long I was there - time loses all meaning when you're in submissive bliss - but exhaustion set in long before they let me go. The girls carried my weight and propped up my head, lining my lips for whatever they had to offer, and though I was beyond my limit I said nothing except to beg.
"More..."
The captain grimaced with amusement. "Okay, girls. I think it's time we finished up here. What do you say?"
They lowered me onto the tile to rest in a ragged heap. Others stopped to take a peak as they used the stalls and other urinals, but knew better than to step into the soccer team's ritual.
A dozen cocks loomed over my head, surging over the band of their very short shorts. I fought gravity, still thirsty, but could hardly move. All I could do was lie there as they jerked themselves and each other, racing toward completion.
Soon it rained again, this time in white, watery globs that flew the length of my body. Their cum landed on my chest, on my belly, even on my caged little jewels; on my face, in my hair, and onto my waiting tongue. This, I thought, was what I was born for. Thank god for Aphrodite Academy!
One by one the soccer team filed away, though the captain lingered to inspect their work. What she was left with was a well-used slut, ever descending to new levels of depravity. She bent down, wiped cum out of my eye, and scooped it up for a taste.
"Enjoy going back to your dorm," she said, and punctuated the remark by spitting in my mouth. Then, without another word, she stood and walked through the swinging door.
I lay there, panting, alone with the other urinals, and my thoughts. In my degradation there was also pride, because I'd done my job well; and there were sure to be more boundaries to push with every passing year.