Monday, I went Salsa dancing. Two things were driving me. One, I wanted to get more social. Two, I wanted to overcome the fear that had built up after the last challenging times. As I readied myself, I kept telling myself that I am walking into my own personal terror.

There were challenges. Simply staying in the place made me want to leave. However, I told myself to simply stay there without doing anything to be in the environment. Right of the bat, an Asian woman kept giving me the evil eye. I wasn’t even looking at her specifically, except for catching the evil looks. It almost looked like she was there with her daughter. However, getting Asian ages right can be hard at times.

In the end, I ended up dancing with a lovely girl. She was all hushed about her being a beginner and making mistakes. So, I did my usual thing of keeping things easy and the lead clear. She did wonderful. She started confiding in me, that she hadn’t been dancing Salsa in a long time. The last time, the teacher had told her that she needed private lessons, implying, at least in her mind, that she was not fit for group lessons. So, I got to empathize with another traumatized Salsa dancer.

Tuesday, I checked out Air Conditioned on Lincoln for the first time. The teacher scared me a bit, because his dancing was so messy that I don’t think, he really knows what he is doing. He may have danced a lot more than me, but being a good example and teacher, I don’t know.

Yet, I got to dance with a very cute, young blonde. As soon as I danced with her, there were these vibrations of nervousness in the air from her. It was so lovely, because that feeling is so alive and electrifying. I tried to dance with her after class. However, she said something about a boy friend or similar over the music. There was another girl that touched me. She was Asian. She seemed kind of like a Thai Asian. She avoided looking at me. There was something so tender and sultry about her body that I was drawn to her. After class, I danced with a young Thai Asian girl. She was young! She was kind of plainly dressed and with plain hair cut, yet that made her kind of so sexy.

Yesterday at Café Monsoon was the jackpot. First, I feel safe in the place. The teachers are good. There is plenty of space. The people coming are open, friendly, and fun. There was a special connection with one girl. Let’s call her throat piercing girl. She had two small metal balls at the bottom dent of her throat, where the two clavicles meet. I was intrigued. I said that it looked like a necklace, yet was a piercing. I loved the unusual place for the piercing. On second observation, there was a thin glass wire running around her neck. It was the other way around. It looked like a surface piercing, yet was a necklace. Before I could even fumble my way through the double surprises, I already felt the connection from her. She was excited to meet me or perhaps any new dance partner.

I kind of forgot about her as the teachers asked us to rotate to the next partner. My eyes were on an Asian girl with a black tight mini skirt. She had these knee high boots that were so sexy. She was begging to be told: “Those boots are so sexy. I bet your boy friend makes you wear them in bed.” I could not wait to dance with her, yet it never happened, because the class rotated in other ways and the end of class etc.

I ended up meeting with a girl that looked pretty British and somewhat drunk. We had this eye contact, while dancing. Now, I usually look at a girl, because I want to see, where she is and all. So, I have a soft gaze at her. Yet, our eyes don’t really meet. So, when our eyes meet, I feel almost like it is starring. So, I will hold it for a bit to indicate that I am not shy. Then, I will break the eye contact. Usually, the girl looks elsewhere. However, once in a while, like with this girl, I hold it, because I want to smile into her eyes and connect with her on that level. She returned it. When you are so close with a woman, you kind of enter a little room of your own with the girl by eye gazing like that.

There were two classes in a row. The next class was another dance, a close sister to Salsa. Yet, the dance is danced with body contact. The teacher explained that the hip and chest are touching. The man leads the woman with the hips and thighs. So, I love that. Who would not? I feel timid about stepping over the line or making the woman uncomfortable. However, if the environment endorsed it, I’d be humping girls doggie style middle on the dance floor. So, the liquored up British girl was already before flaunting the class and wanting to have fun. I got to feel the two mounds of her breast. I got to feel my leg between her thighs. Every once in a while my junk bumped her thigh. It was awesome. The next girl was a ballroom dancer girl. She was dressed that way. She had also the same fake smile shooting left and right at an imaginary audience. I ended up with a gray haired mother. I felt her boobies as well! I felt her butt against my butt as we were dancing back to back. Oh, it is so yummy to be open and enjoy the variety of life!

Girls kept dropping out of class to sit on the sidelines, because I guess the body contact made them uncomfortable. So, I ended up in between rotation without a girl. Across the dance floor, I saw another guy out of rotation right next to two girls dancing with each other. Of course, I walked across. I grabbed the guy and told him that we were going to break up those girls. I went around the girls. I told one of them that the guy wanted to dance with her. She was surprised and turned around to him easy enough. So, I had the other girl by herself. Of course, she danced with me now. We had fun. It turned out to be the fake throat surface piercing girl.

It happened to be the end of class. So, I asked her for a practice dance. We did. After two dances, I was a bit tired. She only did spins and cross body leads. I chatted a bit. I was going to see, if I could bounce her. I told her that I was going to get a drink. I paid for her drink. She paid the tip. We chatted more. I did kino. We did another dance. We chatted more. I wanted to find out, if I could bounce her to another location in the bar. I told her about the backroom having more space to dance. She misunderstood. She walked away to get all of her stuff. We ended up sitting on a couch in the dark backroom chatting and teasing. Oh, it was so much fun. I loved hearing her stories. My brain was flooded with excitement. Her sister came occasionally. I instantly talked to her as well to get her approval. I teased her. Then, my girl told her sister that I was trouble. I love it, when people say that I am a trouble maker. I did plenty of kino. In hindsight, I should have gone for a kiss close. However, being on the couch in the backroom, having so much fun was so surprising to me that I didn’t quite gear up for that. The kiss on the cheek as reward for something she said would have been a perfect routine. So, I ended up getting great stories, getting her to laugh. I even tickled her once. Then, she said that she could not tickle herself. I said that sometimes, my soles are ticklish even to myself. So, she tried it out right here, tickling her soles. Oh, I also practiced interrupting. Interrupting at the right moment with something surprising, can work wonders to the excitement. I complimented her on the princess quality of her shoes. She cut me off and said that they were more like stripper shoes. I loved that.

She has a lovely background in her life. Well, I am swooped of my feet. Gotta remember, this was only an evening of a couple of hours. She is pretty outgoing and meets more people. At the same time, I adore many women as well. Case in point, as I got home and found a postcard in my mail that was full of sexual warmth from a good friend in New York. So, I sent her a simple message on facebook. We will see, if she gets back.

It always amazes me, how good I feel physically and psychologically in dreams. I am so happy and engaged. In real life, my body hurts, my mind is exhausted, and nothing exciting ever happens.

Last night, I had a wonderful dream. I was a police officer standing in front of the police station on the sidewalk. I had a vision of what had happened during the night. A few buildings down on a wide urban sidewalk in front of an empty store building, a fellow officer was shot and murdered. I could not clearly make out the murderer. It was my job today as a police officer to uncover the murder.

From where I stood, I could see the dirty sidewalk, where the officer had been murdered. A little further, there was a homeless man standing in his ruffled clothes. I walked towards him, because he was around that night. Perhaps, he had hurt something. The homeless started running. I ran after him. The next block, the street ended. The next block was a non-building block, because there was a steep slope. A long stairway had been built to lead to the street below. The stairway was wide. It was made from stone and worn by the time.

The steep angle of the stairs propelled me forward. I did not have to strain to run. I simply eased and let the momentum carry me down. Another police officer came after me. I ran away from him. The other police officer did strain in addition to letting the momentum carry him. He caught up with me two thirds of the way down. We stood there in a stale mate. He decided to walk off. In front of him, the stairway had an interrupted section. For the whole width of the stairway, there was a large dirt patch with some kind of bushy plants growing. I wondered what kind of city planner makes such a stairway that cannot be used to actually cross from one street to the next.

The other officer’s path seemed too slippery to me. I looked down the side of the stairway. The ground of the base level was only eight feet or so away. I decided to slide down the side on my belly, holding onto the railing to slow my descent to something less then painful.

The bottom of the city plot was an elaborate garden with plants and water features. There were many old looking stairs that would lead to higher patches of land with benches and little fountains. I was in awe about the beauty of it. Nowadays, we don’t create pretty and lasting public parks like that anymore.

At the bottom were also a few chairs and TVs. There was a community grassroots organization for the neighborhood. I saw the main woman walking around preparing something. I got a premonition. The premonition showed me that the woman would give up valuable information, when pressure was applied. She would be afraid of the police. So, I approached her in my big black uniform. I was wearing a big leather jacket. I had one of those big black police hats on.

She walked away. It turned out that they were suddenly in the midst of a meeting. There was no actual leader to the group. The woman was proposing that voting for a leader was essential. She was putting herself forward. She begged me to get two minutes to finish her pitch to the group. There were four or five other police officers standing around spread out. They signaled me to let her go on. The place was well staked out. So, I let her go on.

While she was talking, I sat down on a blonde stool. Immediately, a tangle of telephone cables and all kinds of other cables started floating up. The cables wrapped around my body as by a demonic spell. The biggest struggle gave the cables that were cinching around my neck. I stood up and the spell weakened. I was able to free myself. I immediately went for the women. Her time was up and I demanded an explanation. She refused an explanation. Yet, I could see her fear of being apprehended by the police growing in her eyes.

She walked outside. I walked after her. I was stuck. A black cable from my back was plugged into a power outlet. I figured it out. Apparently, during the wait, I had plugged in my radio to recharge it. The speaking piece was on my shoulder. A twisted cable ran to the back of my belt. There was the main piece with the antenna. Strangely, I was also carrying around the recharging adapter, which was a large and odd shaped piece. I wondered why I would carry so much crap. I wondered how other police officer recharged their radio and if they ever ran out of battery.

By the time that I got out to the street’s sidewalk, the woman was running again. The street was a completely abandoned and dilapidated section of the street. The glass of the buildings had turned dirty, milky, or even broken. There were weeds growing on the sidewalk. Plastic sheets were flapping in the air as fences.

After a few steps, a large dog with long black hair and a white spot on its neck stood up on my shoulders. He did not hurt me. Yet, he was throwing me around strongly. In the dream, I did not know how to handle dogs. I threatened the woman that I would defend myself and shoot the dog with my gun. A bullet in the head of a dog for being a bit unruly was surely excessive, yet I would have no other chance. The woman started coming back in my direction.

Behind me on the sidewalk was a hole. The hole was so deep that it reached the soil beneath. It was about hip deep. There was a hatch door. The door was made from a sheet of metal. In front of the makeshift metal door were a few plants, a small garden. This was the place, where the woman lived. She closed the door. There was another dog inside. The inside dog looked more like Lassie. I finally had her cooperation. I would soon be a big step forward in solving the case. That’s when I woke up.

Hi. My name is Radha. I am a twenty year old Indian girl with brown skin, dark eyes, and black hair. I am a freshman in a Bangalore all girls college. I grew up in Hebbal, which is Northern most part of Bangalore. We have a large lake, which is very creatively called Hebbal Lake. Many people come for bird watching. One of my strongest childhood memories happened there.

There was a crude tree house built to observe a colony of spot-billed pelicans. When the little ones had grown and left the nest, so did the bird watchers. Then, it became our club house, the club house of a few local kids. That day Billy was with me in the tree house. His parents called him by his American name Billy, because they thought to prepare him to get a job at an American high tech company like his father did.

Billy was naked on the floor. He was tied with the rope from a nearby swing at a play ground. He laid there in the corner against the backdrop of wood slats. The wood was rough and dented from the use. Bright narrow lines of light painted on his body from the sunlight cutting through every crevice in the wall. He looked surprised. I wondered, what his feelings could have said. The British teacher in our high school kept asking us over and over, what we were feeling until she would get a satisfactory answer. I often told her that I was feeling like beating her ass up. Yet, she insisted that weren’t a feeling. Billy would have been quiet, because the red and white checkered handkerchief was placed pretty well in his mouth.

The way down the tree house was to climb wood pieces that had been nailed to the tree. Right about the middle of the way was a large branch going out horizontally. It was a good place to stand. We sometimes played a dare, who dared walking out the furthest onto the branch. Right under the branch were many of the nailed wood pieces missing. So, one had to get low, put the belly on the tree, and slide down until one could wrap the arms around the branch and dangle from it. Often small pieces of the lichen covered bark would break of and paint little dots on your stomach. Sometimes a scrape would add a few red lines that would rarely bleed.

That day, I had to wait for Billy’s sister and her girl friends to climb up. They were carrying on a chatty conversation about something that they had read in a magazine. They paid little attention to me. The screams only started, when I was safely on the ground and disappearing into thick of shrubs.

You can say that I am a bad girl. I am. That’s what how I got into this particular college. On a Friday afternoon in high school, the teacher decided to take it easy. His mind was probably already on weekend plans. The sun was shining lazily into the room. Half the kids were already busy doodling in their notepads. The class was fascinated with Japanese manga. Groups had formed around certain manga comics. They were trying to replicate the characters. The books of previous classes that day were still on the desk. Classmates had been too lazy to store them away in the book bag. A fashion of wearing ties had swept the class as well. The boys were wearing thin ties in stark colors like pink and neon. The girls were wearing half length wide ties with horoscope symbols on them.

The teacher announced that the student painting the best ganish on the blackboard would be excused to leave early. Ganish is a kind of Indian elephant deity. The teacher explained that Ganish were a remover of obstacles and getting out of class that day surely seemed to be the largest obstacle. He was trying to be funny.

Of course, carnage ensued. The kids were running to the blackboard. On the way, they were running into tables and book bags. Once at the black board they were pushing, shoving and quarrelling about space for their master creation. It was perfect for me. Before the girl sitting next to me could get up, I grabbed her hair. It was short hip hair. I pulled her head down under the table. She fell kicking her chair over and landed on her book bag. The world from down here looked different. The desks were scrupulously cleaned from above. Yet, beneath they were a calico patch of stickers. There were expressive stickers like ‘you suck’. There were random price stickers from the cafeteria. The religious Hindu students had left quotes under their desks: “It is better to walk than to run; it is better to stand than to walk; it is better to sit than to stand; it is better to lie than to sit.”

My classmate’s mouth was on my thigh to muffle the volume of her cries below the chatter of everyone else at the blackboard. She was wearing a white thin t-shirt. It was intentionally very large to be kind of like a dress draping down on her body. The neck cut was large as to show the décolleté above her large breast. The front that was now pressed against the ground showed Marilyn Monroe’s face, large lips, and mole in Andy Warhol colors. Her bra strap stood out on her back. I quickly unclipped the bra. Pulling it over her tense struggling arms was not so easy. By the time, the artsy girl in the class had won the Ganish competition, the white underwire bra was in my back pocket. My classmate was sitting next to me clutching her arms across her chest to protect her nipples from showing through the shirt.

She had a tear in her eyes. I told her not to cry, because we would get both in trouble. Plus, I would let her earn her bra back. She had to do two tasks. Her mouth was pleading with painful grievance. Her sweaty little fingers were quick to scribble. She had to write a note to a boy in the front row. The boy was often made fun off. His clothes were often too small. His pant legs would stop middle in his calves, when he was sitting. It looked like a woman’s Capri pants. He had these large glasses on that were purely bought for the most square inch of coverage rather than style. It was rumored that he was farming frogs in his room at home. Almost every student on the route to the boy read her little note: “I am in love with you. To proof my love to you, I am not wearing a bra today. If you can see my nipples and believe in them, write me back.”

When the boy joined the other students staring back at my class mate, I made her uncross the arms. Her breasts were large. They were touching each other in the middle. On the side, they reached past her chest. Without the bra, they were hanging lower. The large round areola showed slightly in the sort. The nipples clearly stood there. The classmates were grinning and whispering each other. The boy had deer in the headlights look and quickly put his face on the desk and covered his head.

The next boy was our token punk. He was always wearing black clothes. His hands were covered with a black type of henna. They had paintings of slain dragons, a black eight ball, or a dog in a spike collar. Even in the middle of the hot dry summer, he would wear boots. He was sitting with the cool people in the back. When he got the same note with his name on it, he pointed at my classmate, then back at him, and he blew a kiss over to her. He sent her a note back saying that he could match her parents’ endowment with his parents’ endowment to him. He was holding his crotch for a full five minutes after he sent the note back.

Of course, I returned the bra to my class mate as promised. The moment, the recess bell rang, my class mate bolted out of the class room, leaving her book bag and everything behind. The whole class had learned about her notes and followed her eagerly to the bathroom. Our token punk proudly pushed his way through the crowd to the girl’s bathroom door. Before he reached for the door handle, he turned around to seize the crowd. With a huge smirk on his face and erect posture, he turned towards the door. The frog farmer boy grabbed the sleeve of the punk boy’s t-shirt and told him that entering a women’s bathroom was unacceptable. The pull on the t-shirt had made a loud ripping sound. No hole seemed to appear. Yet, the punk boys face grew dark and mad, as he squinted a frown. Next the punk boy shoved the frog farmer boy to the ground and a fight ensued.

The chanting of the class had attracted our teacher. The crowd gave way to make space for the teacher, like the parting sea for Moses. Frog boy was pinned on the ground pointlessly bending his body and reaching with his legs to get punk boy off him. Punk boy was sitting on frog boy and had him in a good hold. They silently got up in the teachers presence. Punk boy offered his hand and said ‘no hard feelings.’ Frog boy was more occupied with holding his tears back and fumbling his glasses.

Naturally, the Friday at school lasted much longer for me than the other kids, as I was sitting in detention. The chairs in the detention room were already put on the desk for cleaning, except for the chairs that we were sitting on. We were in the science room. Posters of animals and anatomy were taped on the wall. A preserved owl looked out of a glass shrine with its glass eyes. A jokester had left a mark on the blackboard: “Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.”

Our teacher was Indian, yet had her hair colored blonde. She was wearing a skirt, high heels, and stark red lip stick. She was talking with her girl friends on the phone, as she was applying nail polish. Punk boy was working on a new henna tattoo on his forearm. Frog boy was doing homework. He was almost done with English.

Next to me was another girl from class, Chelsea. Chelsea was wearing lip stick that gave a strong pink highlight. Here eyes were surrounded by a blue hue. Her lush black hair was braided into a tight tail. A straight lock of hair was falling down near the middle of her face to under her chin. Bindi jewelry stuck in between her neat eyebrows. A tiny pink gem was in the middle of the bindi. She was wearing a blue halter dress that barely reached below her butt. Her legs had to cross at all times, when she was sitting for modesty reasons. The contours of her body showed clearly through the tight dress covered in floral patterns with dark blue color. She was wearing high heels with many thin black straps wrapping around her feet and ankles.

Chelsea reached for my hand. Into my open palm, she placed her black lace bra. She closed my other hand on top of it. Her hands were holding my hands together with the bra in the middle. I could feel the texture of the lace in my palms. As I stowed her bra away, her panties followed in the same manner. They were smooth and still warm from her skin. She added that she poured the drink on purpose on the teacher to end up in detention with me. We became best friends. Every morning, she would give me her offerings of bra, panties, or whatever else I demanded. During the day, she would carry out my little missions.

During the last week of high school ever, I was trying to take my mind of the weight on my spleen. All the finals were past us. Everyone, including Chelsea, had been accepted to a good college, or at least bragged about the alleged elite status. Even the rundown state college was puffed up, because a professor had been nominated as a Nobel Prize laureate, even though he was never even accepted as a nominee. I was doomed to work in a call center like my ma taking orders for McDonald’s in America or scaring the living daylight out of people for medical debt collection on America. That day, providence came through for me and opened another door.

Chelsea was on another mission of mine. She was standing in the boys’ bathroom. Her glamorous dress and hair stood out among the plain, functional metal stalls and worn graffiti scribbling on the white washed walls. Hand paper towels were overflowing onto the ground. The half wet bunches of paper towels were so messy, while Chelsea stood their immaculate with poise ready to deliver her acceptance speech as Miss India, ready to wave at the crowd and throw kisses.

A paper sheet was taped to her chest: “Water broke. Please, wipe your hands on me. Management.” Some of the boys avoided going to the bathroom that break. Some of the boys were simply standing there looking at her in awe. The bold boys lowered their pants the bare minimum to pee in the urinal in front of her. She got to observe them. There were the tight legged peeing boys. They stood prim and proper with their feet together. There were the wide legged boys. Some stood so far that their legs were further than the privacy divider. They put their heads back, starring at the ceiling, before they jiggled their body up and down for the last drop. Their clothing would shift around and make fabric noises. Some head a sudden involuntary shudder before the stream would gush into the urinal. Amazingly many of them had problems with the first stream. Completely out of control, the first stream came on their shoes, the walls, and anywhere.

After they had done their business, they would turn around. The five steps from the urinal to Chelsea was the proudest walk of their life for some of them. They would smile big. They would walk with a swagger. They walked with the energy of trying to dodge Chelsea’s glance yet lured to touch her. They would wipe their hands on her dress, while she looked them straight into the eyes, as they stood a foot or two away from her. They wiped their dirty bathroom hands on her pretty dress on her person. The hands, that were holding heir penises right in front of her, were putting that onto her body. She could imagine the penises in her head, as the hands were touching her. She could imagine the musky smell of them. Some of the boys were smelly and dirty. They did not seem to have taken a shower in two or three days. Who knows what dirty, private things they may have done with that penis? That penis had accumulated all of that dirt and filth and was now put forth on her. Some red blushing boys had accidently peed on their hands. They were wiping the golden drops of urine onto her. Chelsea’s dress collected little dark wet dots. The boys never put one and one together about the dark dots. They were so engrossed with being able to touch the body of hot Chelsea or denigrating her that they never realized that they were touching a filth pot of male wipe indirectly touching all those other boys’ penises.

The day ended of course in detention again. Detention had become our afternoon hangout. The teacher had warmed up to us girls. We took turns in bringing cookies and tea to pass the time. After the other teachers had left, our detention teacher would often bring out a board game. That day, we were playing Monopoly, which is a very long game. The teacher offered a prize to me, if I’d win. It was almost too simple, like the teacher had calculated it. Chelsea made enough mistakes in my favor to make sure that I’d win.

After swearing us to secrecy, because she could loose her job, she told us about the college that she went to. The academic program was poor. Yet, the hazing among the students was first rate. The hazing rituals had been perfected over the years. There were secret rules. Student life would be very much like the relationship between Chelsea and me. Only, there was no detention. She had gone to that college. Hearing all the stories that had landed us in detention had always brought up good college memories of her own.

The college had a rule by which an alumnus could enroll a special protégé. The purpose of the rule was to ensure that the protégé would fit into the school and support the hazing environment. The applicant had to bring a young man to the all girls schools interview. The young man had to present himself naked to the principal. He was not to be forced physically. Also blackmail or deceit was acceptable. Actually, the degree of psychological twistedness or cruelness was carefully being judged on. The principal was an old man. He did not actively support this. Yet, over the years, he had become accustomed to match by the student body.

This was my chance at college past late application. Chelsea and I set the plan in motion. I spread the rumor that Chelsea had a secret crush on frog boy. The whole class quickly distributed the information. On the last day of school ever, I allowed Chelsea to wear her bra. She was wearing a pushup bra. She slithered over to frog boy before class started. She touched his arm to get his attention. He looked at her silently. He was wearing a short sleeve shirt that was too large. The buttons did not line up on both sides. Chelsea started unbuttoning his shirt, while she told him about all the years that they had spent in class together. She told him, how he was always in the front of class. She had spent so many years looking at him that her secret desire had developed in her. As she started buttoning his shirt back up correctly, she admitted to a growing fear last night in her bed that kept her up all night. She would not be able to see him anymore. While she had to accept the reality of everyone moving all over India after graduation today, she still wanted to have a memory of him. She whispered into his ear that she would offer her body to him, if he should come with her after school.

School was over at noon, because there was nothing left to teach us anymore. Frog boy was a man of few words, yet he showed us secretly the condom in the front pocket of his pants. Chelsea quickly pushed his hand against the pocket and looked around, as if they might be found out. She whispered into his ear that she was so wet for him. Yet, even though they were both of age and high school graduates, she still needed her father’s permission. Her father’s office was in a nearby district.

Off we went walking through the busy streets of Bangalore. There were the street carts selling potatoes, jewelry, and snacks. There were beggars and ascetic holy man in the street. Often the two were indiscernible. A few scrawny dogs with torn fur lurked in holes of dilapidated walls. Frog boy never even asked why I was coming along. Either, he was mentally ripping the clothes off Chelsea or he was completely frozen up with fear. Either way, it did not matter. He was coming along.

The next step in the plan was delicate. Chelsea started talking about her father being a doctor. She started talking about sexual diseases. Then, she dropped the bomb. Her father would insist on inspecting frog boy naked. Her father was supposedly a secular man. He would care little about sex before marriage, yet he wanted to keep his daughters reproductive organs healthy. So, frog boy would have to strip naked in front of her father to ensure his complete health. Frog boy started hemming and stalling. Chelsea quickly took is hand under her clothes, under her bra and asked him, if he wanted to touch, see, and kiss these lovely boobies. Frog boy became sullen. He did not let go of Chelsea’s hand. He would only momentarily wipe his wet hand on his pants, when Chelsea insisted that the clenching was squeezing all the water out of his hand. Good Chelsea put up with all this for me.

When we arrived at the college, Chelsea stayed behind in the hallway. She explained that her father wanted to have a man-to-man talk with him. In reality, it was my admission interview and not Chelsea’s. Chelsea waved to frog boy and blew him a kiss from her chair outside the door. Frog boy followed me into the office.

The office was a rich old office. There were wood panels all around the wall that were not covered by ginormous book shelves with thick big leather bound books. The wide desk had a golden shiny lamp with a green hood. Photographs and certificates were framed in ornamental metal working and pitched on the desk. The principal was an aged gray haired man. He was wearing a tailored suit with a diagonally striped tie. He put on his glasses and carefully unfolded the Bangalore newspaper. He did an interview technique typical of Oxford. He asked me to do something that would draw his attention away from the paper. In Oxford, it was rumored that an applicant ones took out the lighter and set the paper in the hand of the Oxford principal on fire. Allegedly, the applicant was accepted for quick and effective thinking.

Frog boy started stammering about his love for Chelsea and how he would protect her. I whispered into frog boy’s ear that he was making a fool out of himself. The father was a busy man. He should take off his clothes and let him move on with his schedule. Frog boy tried to look around the news paper for a signal from the principal. Yet, a quick jab to his chest with my elbow got him to start undressing. He neatly unbuttoned his shirt and put it over the backrest of his chair. He folded his pants over and placed them over the armrest. He was wearing large checkered boxer shorts that had been pressed and crumpled up by his pants. He took them off with the green socks. Then, he gently trying to avoid interrupting the principal walked around the desk. The poor principal jumped up in his chair as he sighted frog boy. Frog boy did us even better. He reached for his penis and pulled back the foreskin, presenting it to the principal: “See, it is completely healthy. I have never slept with another girl. So, I can’t have any diseases.”

The principal started rolling his leather chair away from frog boy. After a second or two or registering frog boys intend look for an evaluation, the principal sternly said ‘not what I had in mind.’ I waived frog boy to come back to me. He sat down next to me. I whispered in his ear that his penis was disappointingly small. It wasn’t. Her father surely disapproved. Frog boy could try to save himself by getting an erection. Sometimes, a small penis grew much larger than a large penis with all the blood. Frog boy was eyeing the door like he wanted to escape and the window like he wanted to be a bird and never have to deal with such human affairs.

I started whispering into frog boy’s ear that I had seen Chelsea naked at a sleep over once. Her boobs were one of the most awe inspiring feats of nature. Her hair was so soft that it falling onto his chest would mesmerize him. When he would look in her eyes, really close as during a break of a deep passionate tongue kiss, he would get mesmerized. She would pull him into her soul. Her hands that he had surely felt would be caressing his organ, while her lips would be kissing the tip barely on his penis just wrapped around his penis hole. The young man had a stiffy standing up. It was red. It was textured with veins and little bumpy patches all around. The principal started hitting the news paper on the desk in rapid succession, as if he was hyper ventilating. I whispered into frog boys’ ear that this was the way that medical practitioners applauded. The father was surely in awe of his manhood and approved him taking her daughter. I told frog boy to leave through the side door. Chelsea had already prepared a boudoir of love for them their.

In reality, the room was filled with a group of alumni, who were going to verify my fulfillment of the late admission rule. Frog boy had walked right into a bunch of women, who were ready to enjoy the gift of a naked and erect man. I don’t know, what really happened there. Frog boy was surely in for something. The principal decided to overlook the beginning. He reviewed my transcript and asked me a bunch of academic questions. Afterward, I walked home alone with Chelsea. The alumni group told us that they would keep frog boy overnight. We never saw him again.

At the last family breakfast before leaving for college, her parents took little note of her. The small kitchen table was filled with food. The food was still in its packaging as it rested on the plywood table top. Chapattis were in an opened plastic bag. Yellow lentil dal was in a little plastic cup. Both were picked up fresh from a little corner cart. My mother loved the chain of corner carts called Trader Jenita. A spice bottle of paprika and turmeric were next to my father’s books. My father was reading computer science book for his job, as he was holding a cup of coffee in his other hand. My mother kept repeating over and over ‘Good morning, how can I help you?’

She worked in a call center. Her biggest pride was her accents. She claimed to be able to say her lines in five different American accents: Texan, New Yorker, valley girl, Mid Western, and Florida-Cuban. In reality, she said her lines always the same way, only her facial expressions changed. When she was talking in Florida Cuban, she pulled her lips apart wide and rolled them a bit over. When she talked like a New Yorker, she would sit up more straight, pull her nostrils a bit in, and pucker her lips together as if she were sipping tea in high company. When she talking in her valley girl accent, she always slouched down a bit, twirled her hair, and rolled her eyes in circles.

Her managers mostly ignored her tick, except for this one time. This one time, she was put on probation and it wasn’t really her fault. Though, who fact checks, when you are replaceable? Her job was talking to McDonald’s customers at drive-throughs all over America. Her computer would flash her the location of the McDonald’s, anticipated wait time, and any local additions to the standard menu. One time, she was routed a call from Quebec by accident. The routing software was so poor that it did not recognize that people in Quebec speak French rather than English. My ma tried to make up for the company’s shoddiness, as all front line employees have to. She tried to speak English with her best French accent. Apparently, she must have actually managed to sound differently, because the customer got extremely incensed thinking that she was mocking his French accent. He nearly burned down the place, as my mother tried to placate the customer still speaking with her French accent. Ever since, she started practicing at the breakfast table.

All that what has happened does not matter anymore. Everything that will happen after college won’t matter. I have no illusions that in life, I do not fit in society. However, this four years in this special college will rule. My feet were pressing down on Sheela’s face. Her lips were open and looked like a fish as I was pressing on her cheeks with both of my bare feet. My feet were soft, moist, and the toe nails are well manicured. They look good on her medium brown face with the long open hair falling on the floor as she laid there. I tried to push my toe up her nostril. It only stretched her nose and did not enter: “Lets see if we can get some buggers out of your snotty girl. Well not so much. Here, lick the soles of my feet. I have been walking around all evening barefoot. They should be dusty and dirty.” Indeed, they were gray. Sheela’s tongue eagerly licked over the balls and in between the toes. She suckled on each toe individually. Oh, the emotion of feeling that was so overwhelming. There are so many nerve endings in the feet. I loved it.

Sheela is my bunk made in the college dorm. In the first week, our room mother Trishana, a senior student, had given Sheela the task to wash my back and any other hard to reach place for a week. Sheela had not liked the demeaning nature of serving another girl. She ran away for a day. As a result, Trishana had given me Sheela completely for a week. For the second week of college, I could do with Sheela what and however I pleased. Right now, she was worshipping my feet. “Keep licking and show me your tongue every once in a while. I want to see the dirt on my feet make your tongue dusty and brown.” When Sheela showed me her tongue for the third time, it had hair on it and some black dots that my feet had picked up on the floor. It had a grayish hue. I was satisfied. I deeply tongue kissed her to show her that no matter, how deep we sink, we are all sisters and share. She tasted, how I’d imagined a cigarette tray would taste. All along Anisha and Babbita had intently observed us. They were new. They were learning about the true nature of dorm life at this college.

Oh, did I mention that we were naked. Yes, the dorm rules were that from dawn to dusk, all freshmen girls had to be naked. I may tell you more about that some other time. Yes, I was seeing Anisha and Babbita naked. I was seeing their breasts, bellies, and navel buttons. I saw, all their secrets, the stretch marks, the birthmarks, the cute parts of their body. Anisha had the cutest girl triceps that I have ever seen. When watching her from behind, you could see the three strands of muscle weave. There was simply something so adorable about them that it made them the sexiest part of her body.

When I had sated my appetite for Sheela’s saliva and sharing her suffering, I sent her to the door. The door knob began as a skinny round metal rod extending out of the door and curving around to be parallel to the door. The metal rod widened on the last half inch, so that the wooden handle could be screwed in. The wooden handle was round and smooth. Near the beginning was a narrow section of half an inch. The rest of it was a bulge that was widest in the middle. The wood was completely untreated, so that it would not repel liquid. In fact, it would soak in liquid and get wet. Sheela unscrewed the wooden handle and brought it over to me.

I put the wooden handle into my pussy. I put it in deep, so that only a small finger hold stood out. The thinnest part at the front of the handle was at the beginning of my cave, just were it is the tightest to hold it in place. I started doing the kegel exercises of squeezing my pubococcygeus muscle (pc muscle) around the shaft of the door handle. Trishana, our room mother, had instructed us to practice one hundred squeezes daily. In a few weeks time, we’d be tested. A nut would be put into our vaginas. We had to show the strength of our sex muscle by crushing the nut. Special rewards or even privileges were promised to the ones passing the test.

When I was done, I handed the door handle to Anisha for her exercises. Sheela was to be the last one to use the wood piece according to my instruction. I wanted her to feel all of our pussy juices on the wood. Thus, she would have to put all of us inside of her pussy. She would have to accept us and welcome us in her holiest part of her body. Thus, she would hopefully accept this world and not run away a second time. The wood had already wet blotches from my pussy. There was even a drizzle of my white mucous on the end. Anisha did her exercises. Babbita always cried during them. It made me want to dominate her even more, yet I had to always wait for Trishana to hand out any punishment to Babbita to vicarious enjoy her suffering. Sheela was quiet as well. She returned the door handle to the door.

Trishana burst into our room the next morning. She roused us. She was dressed of course. She had us stand in a line for inspection like on the first day of college. Back then, we had been timid and had to be disrobed forcefully. Now, we were standing there stark naked every day in front of her to be thoroughly appraised by Trishana. Trishana was a beautiful woman. The portions on her body were even. The breasts were beautiful. Her hair was well done. Her voice was clear and heart warming. She told us that she was not always like that. She had been groomed like we were now. Trishana had pointed out Sheela’s scrawny body. Now, every morning Sheela was on an exercise program.

The first exercise was for her to squat to work her thighs and butt. In the squat position, she would have to lean forward and kiss the feet of someone. Thus, Sheela was sent to the rooms of the other girls to ask them as a favor to help her with her exercise. Trishana had asked her to always pick the girl that most repulsed her, the ugliest girl. Sheela had told me that she was once in a room with a very chubby girl. Her belly hung over her private part. Her feet were yellow and smelly, possibly from fungi. Following Trishana’s order, she asked that girl. She was near crying.

The second exercise was to do sit ups. She had to sit between the standing legs of the volunteer girl. Whenever she sat up, she had to kiss or lick the vagina of the standing girl. She was only allowed to stop the exercise, when the volunteer girl was thus turned on that her pussy got wet. When a drop of pussy juice from the volunteer girl fell onto Sheela’s pussy, she was allowed to proceed to the next exercise. The first times, Sheela had not known how to position herself to catch the pussy drop with her pussy. Thus, she had to labor extra hard until perhaps the fifth or sixth pussy juice drop would land on her.

The final exercise had the volunteer girl take one of her used panties and tie it to a string. The volunteer girl would walk up and down the hallway pulled her panty behind her. Sheela had to crawl on the floor after the panty, as if it were bait for a dog or cat to follow. The panties had sometimes brown stains, when a girl had not wiped herself well enough or farted too hard into the panties. Sometimes, it was sticky up front or even yellowish. Sometimes the whole panty smelled rancid after a hard workout in phys ed. Sheela had to rally forward after that bunch like it was a prize. After a few days of this procedure, Sheela had started to develop eager feelings to get her mouth around those panties. The stains, smell, and all were signs of the real and intimate person that the wearer was. Sheela started loving the girls that way. Yet, before she could lounge for the bait, she had to crawl after it. The exercise was to crawl. Crawling low required an immense effort of her muscles to push her on. She was not allowed to crawl high. She had to crawl low, so that her nipples would rub on the floor at all times. Her breast would collect the dirt of the ground. She was in effect sweeping the ground. The volunteer girls mostly made sure that she got every corner of the floor, so that she would not have to sweep the floor later herself.

Sometimes, girls in the rooms that she passed would toss juice in front of her. Then, Sheela’s stomach would get wet and sticky. All the grime and long girl hear really collected on her. From the breast down to her pussy would a dark gray line of dirt collect on her. Sometimes a girl would come out of a room and step on her naked butt intentionally: “Oh sorry, I stepped on your broom.” Her pelvis bone would be pressed against the ground. It would send a stimulating sensation through her whole body. The physical push, the feeling of denigration, the sensory stimulation of the panty often turned Sheela on. She would wash herself later of all the grime. She had to sometimes pull hair and dirt out of her pussy. It often stuck and pulled her intimate skin. Sometimes, she would masturbate.

I saw her like that sullen by herself a few times. That day, Sheela was off to find a volunteer girl. So, Trishana had turned to me. Her fingers nails were gliding up and down my thighs. She was trying each one of my quadriceps. The sharp edge made me tingle. I started feeling passive, as I let her handle my body. I had thought about doctor office visits, where doctors had handled me like an object. I remembered, how silently, I relished the feeling of being handled. Trishana’s verdict was that my worst challenge was uneven quadriceps. The muscle had developed in that way, because I walked like a cow girl with my feet turned out. Thus, my muscles had developed uneven. I would need to do a lot of conscious walking, where I’d place my feet straight and roll them meticulously.

Trishana promised that she had just the right thing to motivate me to walk a lot, as she guided me to a neighboring dorm room. This was the room of aspiring art majors. The walls were lined with paintings by pencil, water color, and glued paper snippets. A red painting had two women’s faces in opposite corners with open mouths. The tongues reached towards each other like banners flying into the air. In fact, where the tongues were supposed to meet, they were simply continuous, as if they were born together like that. A hand drawing had a girl with black wings flying high into the air. She was wearing a black leather bodice and wielding a whip with one hand. An edged drawing showed a Japanese girl with her cute big eyes face and pony tell. Her top was so short that it only covered the nipples and top half of the breast. A tiny panty covered her privates, as she looked at the onlooker in an alluring way.

After the room mother of that room gave permission, Trishana addressed the girls. They were eagerly sitting on a bed next to each other. They wanted to learn more about the dark and intriguing rules and customs of this dorm.

“Today, I am going to teach you, an energy meditation. This is Radha. She is my assistant today. As you know, we all have seven major energy centers called chakras. Each one has a specific location on the body, function, and energy.”

“Muladhara is located at your anus. Its element is the earth. It is grounding. It gives us support from Mother Nature, as we stand on the earth. While we may fall on the Earth, the Earth always catches us and carries us. Sometimes all the studying can get us into our heads. So, it is important to ground. One grounding ritual is to put weight on us. It has a calming effect.”

Trishana directed a girl, Devan, to lie naked on the floor. The next girl was asked to lie on top of her. She put her naked body on top of Devan. They lay boob to boob, belly to belly, and pubic bone to pubic bone. Their faces were nestled in each others hair. The other two girls were directed on top. Devan was breathing hard as her chest had to lift the three girls, yet she felt the love of her three roommates. Her face looked sedated. It evidently felt good to have the body hug from above. Beneath it felt good in a different way. The layer under the skin was very slippery. Thus, while the surface of the skin stuck well to skin, the whole skin moved around. It required a bit of balance to stay even on top of the next girl. One had to be careful about the bones beneath the skin to distribute the weight among the shoulders, hips, and ribs.

So pinned down, Trishana instructed me to paint the Muladhara symbol around Devan’s asshole. It was a red triangle inside a circle with four petals around it. There were plenty of markers around in the room. Getting to Devan’s asshole was trickey. I had to work my way in between the tangle of trim young girl thighs. Then, Devan’s ass was squooshed against the floor. I had to reach in between the butt checks and pull them apart againsthe weight of five girls. While I painted it, my face was right against the stack of four dark brown vagina lips. Each one was so different. Some very flabby, others were tight and smooth. The room mother grinned immediately upon seeing it. It was like she knew something. Trishana continued, while the girls were still in a pile.

“Svadhisthana is located around the sex organ. Obviously, it controls sexual energy among other things. Its element is water. It is fluid, flowing, ever moving in undefined forms. Imagine a pool of water. The bright lines of light that get focused by the waves always ripple around in shapes that the eyes can’t see fast enough to define. To meditate on this energy, we do the following exercise. Whatever space you see, move through it. If you see two thighs together, press yourself through it. If you see an arm next to a body, wiggle yourself through. If you see two roommates leaning against each other, tunnel your way through in between.”

The top girl sat up and dove forward in between all their legs. Her chest rubbed and belly rubbed down the girls bottoms. Once she reached the bottom, she wound her way to the side in between two different girls’ thighs. The third girl on top leaned sideways to slither in between the second girl and Devan. She wedged her head in between their bellies just bellow the boobs. She could not see anything. She only felt their smooth skin sliding past her cheeks and ears, as they sucked in their bellies to make space for her. As she pulled her body after head through the press, a hand touched her pussy. Her own hand was pushing against a thigh and a rib to make herself move. The top girl had not reached the side of the third girls head. Seeing the gap between the third’s arm pushing against the thigh, the first girl dove into the packet with her chest, while her legs were still twisted with the other girls. Quickly, legs and arms were everywhere. Heads were pushed against pussies, butts were pushed against arms, and breasts were stroking backs. The red symbol of the previous chakra left marks on the other girls showing in how many places she had rubbed her anus against them.

Trishana stopped them, so that I could paint the Svadisthana symbol around Devan’s sex organ. It turned out pretty large, because her slit was so long. She had to spread her legs out for me, so that I could paint it all around from her belly across the tendons of her thigh, finished on her perineum. The orange circles and six petals around them were a bit smeared. I enjoyed resting my wrist on the mucous membrane skin of her pussy and feeling her pulse as she lay there anticipating each stroke of cool wet water paint.

“Manipura is near your solar plexus. It rules the energy of personal power, fear and discipline. Teaching discipline is one of my favorite to teach. Get on your hands and knees. Form a square with your bodies, so that each of you can face another butt and bears her butt to another. Now, slap the butt lightly. You want to slap up from the smile that the hanging butt cheek and thigh forms. Now, slap a bit down….”

The naked girls were slapping each other. The flesh of their butts jiggled. There was a bit of heavy breathing. The girls were slapping so soft flesh down as some of them turned to a faint red. As ordered, they made a hard slap to make the other girl cry out. Then, the warmly rubbed away the stinging pain. With the next hard crying out slap a girl started sobbing. Tears were running down her face, as her lips were crying ‘hm, hm, hm.’ This time, they were not allowed to caress away the pain. Instead, they had to byte middle into the read area, so that teeth marks would be left. The two trained girls were breathing hard to manage the pain. The other untrained girl was shaking from the endorphins that her body was producing. Next, they were to scratch lightly all over the butt cheeks to stimulate the disciplined to become more sensitive, as they acutely listened to the pattern the nails were painting on their butt. They were allowed to exchange secret messages with each other through the finger on butt painting. When all of them had settled into a mellow mood of writing each other, Trishana told them to smack each other very fast and hard. The girls started very quickly to move away from each other in pain. Trishana told them to wrap the free arm around a thigh and hold the butt in front her in range. So, they held a hard struggling and kicking thigh against their chest, while striking hard and fast on the butt. All the while, they were fastened and hit upon from behind in the same inescapable form. They would cry, wine, and scream out, while they put all the pain and suffering that they felt into the butt in front of them.

Trishana freed them from the agony. She told them to lie on their sides facing in. They rested their heads in between the thighs of their victim. They had to muffle their cries and hide their tears in the between the legs of the other girl. As they were eating each other out, they themselves were eaten by their punisher. The painful throbbing overwhelming emotion of the butt started melting into their hot pussies that sends feelings of warmth and happiness through their body. So, they were allowed to console each other. More than one hand reached back to warmly caress the head of the girl that was eating her. They were feeling such love for their punishers in the end. Trishana allowed not a single orgasm, thus ending her lecture on self discipline.

I felt such love for Devan. Before each stroke of yellow to paint the Manipura symbol on her belly, I kissed the spot. Her belly tasted salty from the excursion. The skin was so soft. She was paler than most girls. Manipura was a triangle, a circle, and many petals.

“Anahata is around the heart. It is the chakra of the yogi. It is the chakra of love. I want you all to start kissing each other with much gusto. In between, say something sweet to each other.”

Devan reached out and kissed the girl next to her: “I love you. Every night, I watch you fall asleep. I watch as the breath rises in your chest. You are like an angel with your black hair and innocent face.” Another girl kissed Devan on your breast, because her mouth was still busy kissing: “Devan, your breasts are so plumb and lovely that only seeing them in the morning gives me joy for the whole day.” The last girl joined Devan’s kiss to have a three way kiss between three girls. Their mouths were open. The lips were ceiling around making a large dome. The tongue could travel left and right to meet one or the other girl. Sometimes all three tongues meet in the middle, as glasses clink each other for a toast: “Oh, Devan, I have never felt so much love as, when you were eating me earlier. During the spanking all the memories of my father hitting me had rushed over me. I felt so abandoned and hurt. Yet, your tongue came through like the sun in the morning of a dark night. Your tongue inside of me made me feel no longer alone and so loved and warmed.” The atmosphere in the room became so warm that even Trishana and the other room mother had divine looks on their faces.

I made the green Anahata symbol larger than it needed to be. I wanted to feel Devan’s nipples. So, it was wide and green across her chest: The opposite facing triangles inside of a circle surrounded by even more petals. Her breast tissue was so soft. It moved away from each brush stroke like a dent inside of her. Her nipples were so lush. The nipple inside the areola with the tiny little dots of little lumps standing out in a circle around the areola. The brown of the areola was so teasing. I wanted to put my lips around them and suckle like a baby.

“Vishuddha is the chakra at the throat. It rules communication. At the core, communication is a vibration. We send a vibration from one person to the other. There is loud vibration like the sound of our words. There is subtle vibration like the love in a mother’s heart reaching out to her child across large distances. We are going to use sound travelling through the body. All three of your will place your mouth on Devan’s body. Then, you will make a roaring or humming sound. Change the frequency. Feel how you can make her body vibrate. Feel, how perhaps you can create a resonance between all three of you in her body. Perhaps, the resonance meets half way in her body.”

One girl opened her mouth wide on Devan’s mouth. She started with a loud ‘raaaaaa.’ Devan’s nostrils were vibrating from it. The next girl had wrapped her lips around Devan’s clitoris and was angelically humming ‘nnnnnnnn’ on it. The last girl had her mouth pushed in between Devan’s butt cheeks and was gurgling ‘rrrrrrrr’ onto her anus with way too much spitting in between. The girl graciously licked her dry in between taking breath. Being so vibrated inside of her body, Devan got glassy eyes. Her pupils rolled back. Her face grew a little puffy.

I painted the Vishuddha symbol on Devan’s throat. Trishana had me paint the remaining two chakras on Devan’s forehead: Ashna and Sashasra. Trishana was a bit of in a rush. The start of class was advancing. She skipped the exercises much to the disappointment of the girls. She cut the disappointed ooh short, when she announced that she would tell us another secret rule. If one girl were to completely label another girl by drawing on her physical body, the labeled girl had to serve the labeling girl for an hour. The labeling could be as academic as labeling all the muscles on her body by writing the name on them. By writing all the chakra symbols on Devan’s body, I had claimed Devan for the next hour. I could not wait for Trishana to give me the signal to use Devan for my pleasure. I had fallen in love with Devan, as I had watched her go through the exercises. Her body was brilliant and her personality of dealing with little surprises, pain, and pleasure drew me to her. Yet, Trishana had other plans.

Trishana wanted me to pretend that Devan was a cow. I was going to walk my cow for an hour. All the while, I was to pay attention to my feet with the utmost detail to make sure that they touched the ground straight. They were no longer to point out to the sides. My whole body musculature would start changing my shape for the better from this.

Trishana retrieved a bag of milk. A happy cow and kid with a glass of milk was painted on the bag of milk in bright colors. It was one of those plastic bags that were thin and pressed together at the top and bottom. As one would hold the bag of milk, the liquid would shift around, changing the shape. It was cool and wiggling milk. A few water droplets had condensated on the smooth surface. Trishana taped the bag on Devans back with gray duct tape. Devan wiggled under the cold thing on her back and some of the condensated water running down her back. Trishana had also found two long clear plastic tubes. She poked one end in to the milk. The tube ran around the side of Devan’s body and duct taped to her nipple. The plastic tubes ended right next to each nipple.

Devan was kneeling on hands and knees in front of me with her special backpack. Devan gave me a long, thin, and bendy stick. The stick was about two feet long and half as wide as my pinky finger. I was to heard Devan up and down the hallways, stopping every once in a while at a dorm room to offer a drink of milk.

Trishana let me go. I instructed Devan to moo, whenever I would tap the sole of her bare foot that was trying her crawling on the floor. I kept tapping her on the foot, until she made her moo so loud and clear that everyone would believe that she really thought she was a cow. At first I walked up and down the hallway a couple times. I really paid attention to my foot placement. I tapped Devan a few times with the stick to correct her direction to stay on the side of the hallway that I wanted her on. However, I grew curious to see her pussy. I moved the cane carefully in between her legs. However, her hips kept moving around so much, because of her crawl. So, I touched her in undesired places. Sometimes, I merely missed my mark and got her inside thigh. Sometimes, I poked her tender pussy a bit and she would lurch forward. That made me curious about poking the stick in her ass. It did not go in. I did not want to hurt her. Yet, I saw that she was really uncomfortable about this treatment. I enjoyed making her squirm.

A girl appeared out of a dorm room. She looked at me quizzical. I explained that I was walking my cow. She could have as much milk as she wanted to. However, she would have to milk the cow herself. The girl quickly got on her back to slide under Devan. She started to suck on her breast and the milk tube. The tube moved with each suckling. Now, that Devan was still and enjoying the suckling mouth on her breast, I could further explore her vagina. I squatted down to get e a better lip. Then, I used the cane to move away the brown vulva. I separated the inner and outer lips. I took a look in between her inner lips, at her clitoris, and the opening for whatever one wanted to insert. I carefully inserted the cane to measure the depth of her. Another girl had joined the first suckling on the other breast. Devan was clearly enjoying herself, as her anus was rhythmically squeezing.

I told the girls to let some of the milk for other girls. A line had formed. Devan, the cow, was clearly a hit. One girl was patting her head hair. Another girl was petting her back, while two girls each were sucking on her breast to get the milk out of her back. I kept watching Devan’s vagina. The inside walls turned a little redder. Her clitoris grew a bit. Her white sap made the inside shinier. The milk bag was empty just as I got bored of my science experiment. Devan got to enjoy the lips of a dozen different girls. Some had big sloppy lips. Some were sucking very sharply. Some were full of spit. Some were secretly licking her nipples or even biting her.

The rest of my exercise was seriously boring, walking up and down the same hallway. If it weren’t for Devan and the stick to torment her, I could not have kept up with Trishana’s exercise.

Luckily that even was our first dorm soccer tournament. Dorm soccer has very little to do with the regular soccer. The only vague resemblance is that a ball is the center piece. Yet, the ball is not the inflated leather type thing. It is a small chocolate ball wrapped in silver aluminum paper. The ball is inserted in a player’s rectum and has to be brought to the finishing dorm room. The point for inserting the chocolate ball into the rectum is that the ball is carried in secrecy. The only chance for the opposing team to get the ball is inside of a dorm room. The game is played in rounds. During the round, the players are not allowed to leave the dorm room that they are currently inside. In between rounds, they can switch the hallway side, or move a room fore or back. Inside the room during the round, the girls are free to tickle the other players to expel the potentially hidden ball. Actually, there are very little rules that limit, what can happen inside of a room.

Basically, a secretly chosen girl starts with the ball. She has to endure any tickling during a round inside the room as best as she can. During the next intermission, she can advance toward the goal room. If she makes it all the way, her team wins. If the other team tickles the chocolate ball out of her, the other team gets to try the same feat.

In another contrast to soccer, each room of four girls furnishes one team. Thus, all the rooms compete with the other rooms at the same time. Each room tends to choose a different strategy. There is the Rambo strategy. The four girls will always stay together. Whatever poor girl is by herself is subject to eight intense hands and forty fingers bearing down on her. The obvious shortcoming is that this defense will miss any girl coming down on the opposite side of the hallway. Thus, the tag team strategy splits a room in two girls working each side of the room in parallel.

The obvious downside is that two girls can get overpowered by Rambo teams. Thus, a third popular strategy is the truth detector. The four girls will split apart in different directions. If one suspects to have found the girl carrying the chocolate ball, she will not try to get it. Instead, she will follow the girl. Or, should another team take over the ball, she will follow the new girl. Eventually, randomly another girl of her team will end up in the same room. Thus, the team slowly assembles until they have the advantage in numbers. At that point, they will strike.

As you start to see, there are unique skills to the game. A successful team often has a mix or experts. Obviously, the master tickler is a fundamental player in the game. The ball detector can often be even more crucial. Able to decipher the fear of being found out in a girl to focus all attention during the round on the right girl can make or break a game. The queen of the game is the girl that is the toughest to endure tickling, anal probing and the like. She is the one to carry the chocolate ball after the rest of the team has extracted it. Of course, there are more devious experts. Some teams follow the strategy of disabling as many opposing players as possible. Rather than, searching for the ball, they focus on tying as many opposing players in bondage as possible. If a team should be unlucky, all the girls end up disabled in rope and unable to win.

I vividly remember the beginning of the game. My knees were shaking badly from excitement. Anisha tried to calm herself down by telling us, what to do. Babbita was already crying about all the torment that she would be put through. Sheela was pale and tense. She was the most ticklish of us all. So, our secret plan was to use her at the chocolate ball carrier in a bit of reverse psychology. The other girls would quickly let go of her, when she was wringing in giggling convulsions on the floor to focus on the tougher girls, the more likely ball carriers. Trishana promised us a special treat should we win.

The horn sounded. All four of us burst out of the room. All the plans and strategy were lost. I looked around in the new room with the Bollywood posters on the wall. The four girls had stayed in their room. Two other girls came in behind me. The true meanness of girls by themselves was unleashed. The four girls of the room had obviously formed a Rambo team. They grabbed the weakest girl behind me. They dragged her into the bathroom. They jugged her face down the toilet bowl. The kept her face down against her struggle. Her arms were reaching for the hands pushing her under water. Her arms were pressing against the pee stained toilet bowl to get her out. Three mean girls overpowered her. The fourth girl was intently looking at her butt hole, until it started rhythmically opening and closing, because the drowning girl was really struggling to breathe.

So, violently inspected to not carry a ball, she was tossed on the bathroom floor. She sat there like a sad puppy. Her wet hair ran down her face in streaks. Thick white snot ran down her face and over her lips. She was spitting saliva from the toilet water that she had swallowed. The saliva strings were running down her mouth, chin, and on her chest.

The next girl screamed in terror as she was dragged to the same procedure, until the toilet water transformed her screams into water bubbles bursting to the surface. Her anus started pulsating, showing the pink inside against her brown outer skin. She too was discarded as a sobbing mess of wet hair, snot, saliva and spit over her face and chest next to the first girl.

Luckily, I was spared. The team was still fumbling with their approach. So, they had used up the entire time of the round. The next room landed me with three girls. They were all tied up with their hands behind their bag and the feet together. Graciously, they were laid on the belly so that one girl had the other girls face behind her butt cheek. They were giving each other rim jobs. Even they were sure losers of the game, they could at least pleasure each other instead of waiting in boredom. I could imagine their tongues, as they were dancing around the anus of the other girl, trying to probe their way into the inside. They were moaning and paid no attention to me.

The next room had another ingenious Rambo team. They quickly tackled me to the ground. They shoved something into my ass. Then, they showed me a glass with rain worms, as they wiggled their way up the side of the glass. I quickly ran to the toilet to make a bowel movement and get that slimy thing out of me. It must have died, because I did not feel it moving around. The idea of not only a worm inside of me, but a warm squashed in the process of insertion with its innards spilling out it me was horrible. The next girl came running. She sat on my lap and tried to shit in between my thighs. We all had our rectums emptied before the game. So, no matter how hard she was trying, nothing but farts came out initially. Her naked butt was pushing against me. Her hair was in my face. I shuddered at the idea of her shitting on me. In the end only a rolled up piece of paper came out of each of us. So, it was a mind game that would have made us expel the chocolate ball, if we had it. The girl sitting on my lap gave me a warm hug for being her toilet comrade.

The next room brought me together with Sheela. Another girl was trying to crawl under the bed furthest away. We tickled her the old fashioned way. She was a rural country girl. I tickled her large feet that were used to walk long distances. Sheela tickled her sides. The rural country girl giggled and gave up the chocolate ball like a charm. It plopped right out of her. It already smelled like butt. The silver wrapping had come off in one part exposing the chocolate to the rectal skin. Whoever would eat this at the end, would really bond with the whole dormitory through eating that smelly ball that smelled of many butts. There may even be some poo residue on the ball in the end. I quickly shoved the chocolate ball into Sheela’s ass. Pushed up far and as high as I could. Sheela looked at me excitedly. We tight the country girl with a found sari rolled into a makeshift rope with her hands to the toilet.

Just in time for the honk of the next round, we left her there in shame of having failed her team. The next room had three girls from all different teams. Sheela and I pretended to be in pursuit of the ball. We started fingering the ass of one girl after the next. I mostly played with their asses and pussy for fun. After all, we had the ball already.

The final room before the finishing room provided to be the hardest. The Rambo team was well organized. They had two girls tied to the wall already. The girls were inverted. A few wraps of rope around the hip kept them hanging from the ceiling. The legs were tied spread eagle to the ground. Thus, there pussies and anuses are exposed to above. With the help of a funnel, they filled golden brown whiskey into the asses of the girls. The girls were pointlessly struggling. Their heads turned slowly red from the inversion. The alcohol was quickly consumed through the rectum. The large intestines are excellent at sucking the remaining water out of fecal matter. Sheela and I were placed like them head over. I felt the drunkenness coming on soon. The sounds for the next rounds came and left. As we were not able to leave, we were stuck here soaking in more alcohol.

The Rambo girls would occasionally tap our pussies. They had a scale: 1) Fears pussy tap; 2) Too drunk to fear pussy tap, yet enjoys erotically; 3) Only responsive to pussy squeezing. The girls had much fun with it. They’d randomly slap our pussies and asses like one slaps a well running machine or obedient horse: “Doing good. Suck in that alcohol.” Boob slapping and putting toes in our mouth was another entertainment, as they waited for fresh meat to their trap. Once a girl had gotten to stage 3, she was pinched and spanked until she would sober up a bit. Then, she was interrogated about strategies and suspicions to whom had the ball.

The second girl was pretty out of it. She said that she would do anything to get down. The Rambo girls promised her freedom. They promised her a quick sobering up, once she would squirt out the remaining alcohol. The girl told them, which of her roommates allegedly hat the chocolate ball and where her room was. The crying girl was left hanging. The Rambo girls dropped an ice cube into her ass and left a mint stalk hanging outside of her asshole. Then, the Rambo girls took off with the next intermission.

Luckily, Anisha showed up. She had Babbita in tow, who was crying from the game. They rescued us. We had rope marks on our thighs and legs. Most of the whiskey ran out on the floor. The chocolate ball was half dissolved. I finally sated my thirst for pussy and went down on Babbita, who was thus slowly consoled. Anisha and Sheela made it to the finishing room. Trishana promised to tell us soon about the special treat.

I had another vivid dream tonight. It started back in Germany, in the house that I grew up in. I vaguely remember gardening. The first image that I clearly remember consists of red wax drops on the carpet. As my glance followed them, I saw the black wick of the candle and the candle itself. I was amazed at the fire danger of dropping a candle on the carpet. My step dad’s head reared itself over the couch. It was morning. For whatever reason, he has slept on the living room couch. He explained that he had dropped the candle and would clean it up later. I was surprised, because he is not the person to let things for later at all. That’s what he’d admonish me for.

Before I had much of a chance to talk, my mother was with me. She explained to me about her childhood. She said that they always had geese. A goose would be feed and grow up. I could see a real goose next to us. Then, one day, she was completely grown. I saw the goose with her pretty white and smooth feathers. She had a long neck and the beak to peck around. My mother continued then, there was this one day on the calendar at specifically noon. At that date and time, my mother would kill the goose. She went from being this friendly pet to a hearty lunch within two to three hours. I was a bit dazed and wondering, if the eating her pet seemed cruel to her.

Yet, before there was a conclusion on that, I noticed that there were two geese running around me. One of them was pecking her back. In between the feathers, she had a hole. The hole went straight to her stomach. All the stomach content was exposed. The other pet came chasing over trying to peck around in the stomach hole of the other. I found it alarming. I tried to tell my ma. The geese kind of changed. They could have been little dogs with messy hair. The dream changed more.

When I finally could make sense again about my situation in the dream, I was in an office building in Manhattan. The elegant office of a creative agency was around me. There were a ton of pets in different places. Some were in cages. Some were in a separate room. The vet from the vet office upstairs was with me. This week, many of the pets had gotten sick. I was some kind of intern or assistant there. So, I had to do the odd work, which happened to be today, caring for the pets with the vet.

I got a bit absorbed with one pet. When the vet returned to me, she insisted that the pet ambulance was waiting downstairs. I felt really hesitant about the whole thing, because vet ambulance sounded like thousands of dollars. And, the particular pet could probably be replaced for fifty bucks or so. Though, I did not want to hurt the feelings of people at the company. So, I went to my supervisor. She happened to be a tall slender African American Woman with smooth hair. She was wearing a lab coat. I followed her. She kept walking away, because she was attending to so many things. I followed her.

When she got to her desk, I caught up with her. I told her the story. The person behind me responsible for the ambulance was now a man. To my surprise, it turned out to be Jack Bauer. Apparently, his day job was an animal consultant. I had no idea, how complicated animal health is. Apparently, there are multiple pet health consulting companies. Jack Bauer’s specialty was knowing, which consultancy knew about which particular disease condition or therapy modality. It really sunk in, when he briefly talked on the phone and addressed the other person as Chloe. She was working with him as a pet consultant as well. I was amazed to meet these people in real life.

My supervisor was busy moving bottles around her desk. She had all the bottles to mix margaritas. She was so carefree and confident about her job that she would party while working. As I looked at her, it struck me that my boss was actually Camille from the TV Show Bones. As I looked across the office, most of the cast of the TV show Bones was working at this creative agency. I had not recognized the colleagues as being on the show before, even I had worked with them for weeks. It was a surprising realization. And, then it made sense. These people were very creative and needed a creative outlet. So, once a week, they snuck out of the office to act on a TV show.

I was so excited that I wanted to immediately share on facebook with all my friends that I worked with the cast of Bones. Yet, I realized that most of them were friends with me on facebook. It would be kind of lame sending that status update to everyone, because I’d be bragging to them as well that I’d work with them. I was so excited and tried to figure out a way to share this huge thing with somebody. I went back to my desk and started clicking around with a pen on a touch screen to add/remove friends on facebook to figure out a way.

I woke up very happy. I liked the office energy of the Bones people. They seemed caring. They were excited in life. They would listen to people. That was a funny dream. I don’t usually dream about movies or TV.

My name is Sheela. Sheela means off good character. I am from a rural part of Karnataka that you have never heard of before. My parents told me the stories of the Vijayanagara Empire and all the like large empires that were started in our Indian state. All the while, we were sitting in a simple hut with only a thin wooden board between my fanny and the soil. I was the first of my family to travel to the state city Bangalore. I was the first of my family to receive college education. My grades were perfect through all my years. Yet, it was hard to find a college that would recognize our local school teacher. He was an old man, who had lived half of his life in the forest. He came back to our village, when he had found a few text books. With the same religious zeal that had kept him in the woods, he had learned the textbooks to teach us children about reading, algebra, and world history. I believe that he is a good teacher. Yet, the colleges did not recognize him, except for an all girl college in Bangalore that we had never heard off.

I stood in a circle with three other girls in our dormitory room. My hands were still clutching my bag in front of me. I did not have much. I had three sets of clothing and five sets of underwear. I had three notepad and four pens. There was also the toiletry. The phone calling card had only an hour, so that I could call my parents in an emergency. Actually, I would call an uncle with a phone, who would then relay any messages to my parents. The message relay would involve half day on a donkey back and another half day in a river boat. I am kidding you. I may be poor, but things are not that bad. Oh, and I had my pink unicorn with me, a stuffed cuddle toy. I had stolen it from my little brother once. He was so sweet and innocent that he was not hurt at all and so generous that he let me have it.

I was standing in the circle with the other girls. We were negotiating, who got which bed. Radha took the lead in the negotiation. I liked getting the bed next to hers, because I admire her strength. I did not like so much that it was next to the bathroom as well. However, at least we shared a window. The beds were pretty basic. Each of us had a night stand next to the bed to store our belongings. The other two girls kept to themselves speaking a different language.

Radha had full black hair, yet her skin was whiter than mine. I am not pitch black, yet clearly a daughter burned by the strong country sun. She was wearing a Western T-shirt. It was white with blue sleeves. In the middle was one of those Disney characters ‘Daisy Duck.’ She was wearing a golden earring. Dangling from the ear ring was the Swadhisthana symbol for the second chakra. It expresses a creative and bold energy. It is also considered the sexual energy center. My parents would have never let me in public with such a reference. Her parents seemed a lot less strict, as she had chosen the college herself. She said that a friend in school detention had told her about it. She had a very big grin, when she said that. I hope that the college is good and not a sham.

One thing that was hard for me to get used to was the constant hugging and calling each other sisters. Back in my village, we always kept a polite distance and I had only one brother, who called me his sister. The hugging that they were so comfortable with was really awkward for me. Not only was it very close, my face would also touch their hair. I could smell the soap in freshly washed hair. I could smell the musk in the dirty girls. It tickled my face. Once, a strand of hair even got stuck in my mouth. I was so embarrassed as I was pulling the hair out of my mouth and it tucked on my lips sharply. The most embarrassing hug was Radha’s hug. Her hair smelled so fresh. It had a smell of lavender and mango. It made me want to touch it to feel it. It made me want to grab a good bunch and put it under my nose for a good smell. No, I actually really wanted to put my nose all the way down to her scalp to feel it. Also, her hug was so much tighter than the other girls. All evening, the breast of other girls had touched my breast. My breasts were so sensitive that I jumped. The girls’ breasts were so soft like nothing I had felt before. I jumped frequently and they laughed at me. Radha’s hug was so tight that I could feel our chest bones flattening the breast against each other. I could even feel her nipple, like little buds. A strong emotion had started flooding my body. It felt like my ma consoling me from a spell of crying. I felt a bit more alive feeling another human being as vividly as I had never felt another life.

You can imagine when I closed my eyes in the new bed and pulled the blanket over me, I was really glad to be in my own space. There were three other girls in the room, yet with my eyes closed I was in my own room. I did not have to interact anymore, no more smiling, no more hordes hugging me. Being in the city was so new and different. There were so many people. My mind was so full that it quickly fell asleep. Memories of the face of a banana seller in the street flashed in a dream. In another flash all the girls were in my hut back with my parents. In another flash, I kept sharpening my pencil over and over until the whole pencil was gone and I started crying, because I would fail class without a pencil.

The warm Bangalore sun shone through the window. It painted the window outline on the floor. The palm trees outside stood happily up to the sky. The other girls were lying in their bed on the side, on the belly. Arms were stretched out standing away. Others were tugged in. Blankets were crumbled. I slowly got up to avoid the bed from squeaking. The bathroom was simple. There was a whole in the ground for our business, a squatting toilet. There was a sink with a mirror. The mirror was framed in wood. There was a farm or garden hose in the corner to wash ourselves and the bathroom. A handwritten sign reminded us that clean and studious girl made it far in the world.

I squatted down to relieve my pent up water urge from the night. The hissing stream calmed me down and relaxed me. The sense of alert to come here was passing, when Radha knocked at the door. She knocked very vehemently. She started kicking. She screamed that I were selfish keeping the bathroom to myself with three other girls. She moaned that she needed to pee urgently. I was desperate to finish my business, yet very afraid of that powerful woman. So, I unhooked the metal hook in the door. She stood their in the door. I was squatting way below her. Her face was mad and impatient. Before she could think of something I jumped up and to the side. I felt so violated. I had never been with disorderly dress in front of anybody, let alone with my modest parts exposed. Worst of it, I had not the time to wipe. So, the urine was still glistening in my pubic hair. There were yellow droplets against my black hair. Radha was completely unbothered by me standing next to her going about her private business.

As I sat on my bed and brushed my hair, I was not sure, if I really liked life in a big city. People were so different. Everything was that much closer. I thought back to the people in my village. Ram was a fisherman. Every morning, he would walk past our hut. He was coming from the river from the catch at dawn. He would stand at a polite distance and wave over to me. He always had a joke for me. One of my favorite one was: “Mommy, mommy, I don’t want to swim anymore. Shut up kid, we are soon in Sri Lanka.”

Perhaps, I simply needed to get used to a different way. The girls were all so much warmer and excited. Perhaps, I simply had to shake of my rural proclivities and become a city girl. All these new social forms were surely strange, yet they were intriguing as well. It was intriguing to leave my peasant ways behind and join this group of young girls, urban and educated girls. Yes, they shall not find out that I am some country egg. I shall go in the day, pissing with the door wide open and hug as many girls as I can. I will become the uber urban girl.

My thoughts were interrupted by a loud noise at the door. A girl in her senior year burst into the room. She told us in the room to stand in a line. We kind of did. Yet, I blurted out that she was not the teacher. She immediately turned to me and looked me stern in the face. She had green eyes and was wearing make up on them. Her hair was put in a pony tail behind her. She smacked my breast from the side. I gasped hard. I had never felt such an intense feeling before. I almost sat down. She howled at me that the teachers owned the classroom. The senior girls owned the dormitory. It was a truce between the school and the senior girls. The school saved the money to pay a teacher for oversight. The senior girls could take some liberties with the freshmen to do chores. The other three girls stood a little taller as they heard about their fate.

The senior girl introduced herself as Trishana. Trishana means thirst and desire. She explained that the girls would have to serve her thirst and desire. They were from now on in their evening and morning hours there to serve her. They were there to make her look good. That meant that they had to outshine the other freshmen girls. In exchange, she would make sure that they were the most successful and would gain many secret liberties that there were in this college dormitory.

She told them that it was enough cuddling talk and that we should strip off our clothes. All four of us froze. We were afraid of Trishana. We were afraid to take our clothes off. Trishana calmly walked out the door and yelled for two girls. The two girls appeared with smiling faces. They quickly grabbed the girl closed to the door. They pushed her down to the ground. One was pinning her arms to the ground and grimly starred in her face, daring her to make a move. Trishana sat down on her chest. Can you imagine! The head of the girl was beneath and under her thighs. Trishana’s buttocks were on the girls boobs. The second girl pulled her pants and panties down. The girl on the floor was crying, wriggling, and calling softly for help. Us other three girls, we did not dare moving. We heard the commotion out in the hallway. The same happened everywhere. We felt subject to a larger, stronger, and more experienced force.

They let the girl stand and wipe her tears. She stood their naked. Her skin was dark brown. It was one of those Indian browns that is a bit grayish and completely matte. There was not the least bit of shine on her skin. It makes me always look twice, when I see skin like that. Her boobs were small and the areoles were large. She had quite a bush between her legs. And, the inside of her thighs were fuzzy from hair. I had never seen hair there on a woman. Her bunk mate consoled her.

Trishana was happy about having stripped one of us down. Radha and I still stood in shock without moving to take our clothes down. The two girls from the outside were eager for action, yet waiting for a signal from Radha. Trishana sat down on my bed and asked the consoling bunk mate to be brought over. They made her bent over Trishana’s lap. Her belly and chest was resting on Trishana’s thigh.

“Who are you darling?”

“I am Trishana. I have three brothers. My family lives in the carpet cleaner district. I am here to start my medical career.”

“That’s enough for now. We don’t like to physical force people like your naked friend to do things. We use punishment and reward to make you follow our orders. I will spank you, until you take your clothes off by yourself. Remember, I will spank you until your ass is red and you miss class. When you miss class, you can kiss your doctor dreams good bye.”

Trishana lifted up Anisha’s skirt. Her plain pink panties were exposed. The fabric was a thin cotton fabric with bands along the side. Trishana rolled down those panties to expose her butt. She had a round black birth mark on her butt. Trishanas hand soared down from high. It landed on Anisha’s butt. The clap re-sounded against the empty walls. The butt flesh vibrated. Anisha’s head was red. At the third clap, the first tears of Anisha started rolling. Trishana’s helpers started teasing her about being a cry baby. The flood of tears stopped for a moment, when Anisha stammered, “I will do it.”

Trishana let her stand up. As soon as Anisha got to her feet, she started running out of the door. She was running as fast as she could. Trishana’s helpers went after her like two over happy dogs chasing the first prey of the hunt. Trishana purposefully, yet calm followed. We intently listened for outside clues. There was a lot of whining, yelling, things falling down, and clothes tearing out in the hallway. Neither of us three dared moving.

The first thing that appeared from the outside commotion was Trishana’s proud face. She was very happy with herself. Behind her was a naked Anisha being pulled by her nipple. Trishanas fingers had pinched her nipple and were tearing the nipple forward. Anisha had been humbled by being paraded like that in front of all the girls in the other rooms. She had been humbled by the scenes that she had scene. As she stood in the row with us again, she said ‘Thank you mother, Trishana.’

Rhada was quick to address Trishana. She offered to take her clothes off at once. Yet, she wanted to know the reward that Trishana had been alluding to. Trishana glanced over at me and said, ‘that one will scrub your back and anything else you want scrubbed on your body for a week.’ Rhada let her clothes fall to the ground and stood on the pile. She was proud to show her body.

A glance of Trishana was enough for me to take of my clothes and expose myself completely to the room. I had nothing to hide myself. My boobs were there for all the girls to look at. Even my private sex was out in the free. I could feel the air around my butt. I felt naked like never before.

Trishana lectured us that there was a purpose behind the nudity. Obviously, our room had to learn obedience to authority. Yet, poise was important to the success of a young woman. A young woman had to learn to stand confidently and sensually. Her hands started gliding over my belly. She told everyone that I was kind of scrawny. She slapped me on the butt. She said that my butt was boney. She said that I needed to eat well and form more muscles.

She told me to squat. I squatted. I felt my butt cheeks spreading apart. I felt myself below everyone else. Looking up at them and being so criticized made me feel rather little. I had failed at school for the first time. Trishana told me to bend forward and kiss her feet. I kissed her medium browned feet. I could see the pale skin at the sides of her soles. Her toes looked beautiful. She told me to get up. She told me to repeat the squats ten times and count out loud each kiss to her feet.

By the third squat, my legs started getting shaky. I had to steady myself by holding her feet in between my hands, as I’d lean forward to kiss her foot and count ‘4.’ For an unknown reason, the kissing and her beautiful feed made me feel love. I started loving her feet. I started to love Trishana, as she was strict like a parent. By the eighth kiss on her foot, I started crying and mumbled, ‘I love you mother, Trishana.’

As I stood up, Trishana hugged me warmly and said ‘welcome sister, Sheela. One day, you will have four freshmen to look after with love and discipline.’

The class room time was sombering and relaxing compared to the drama. The teachers spent most of the time introducing themselves, explaining the curriculum and similar fluff. The surprising part was a folded snip of paper passed from Rhada: “I knew about all this before. That’s why I came to this college. Did you?” I could not understand why someone would want to be treated like we were this morning. Unless, I suspected, I am very uneducated about the city ways. Perhaps, I speculated, this was the social order around the royal throne, the etiquette that happened in high society behind closed doors. Perhaps, that was part of the stories from my ma about the empires coming from Karnataka. Perhaps, the large temples and palaces with all their secret symbolisms hinted at a world like this.

In the evening, Trishana was quick to find the four roommates in their dorm room. She entered the room with flair and burst that they would play the ‘rose game.’ She evidently loved the game a lot. It was an introductory game, so that all the new girls would get to know each other. There was a single rose with the thorns removed. It was a lovely red rose from the market. It still smelled fresh and softly like a rose. The bravest girl of the new year was chosen to start. She was to take her clothes off and crawl on her hands and feet to another dorm room with the rose in her mouth. As a rule, the girls in that room were allowed to push her, not strike her, with their bare feet. Whatever girl she managed to drop the rose on the lap was up next. That next girl had to take off her clothes and give the clothes to the last girl to wear. It was a chance to get to know other girls and show comradeship by clothing each other.

Every two minutes or so cheers erupted from a different room along the hall. When finally a face showed up in their door, it was a dark and chubby girl. The rose looked beautiful in her mouth, very elegant. Her boobs were large and her butt had stretch marks. She swiftly moved in the room with big eyes. Anisha started pushing her foot immediately against the side of the rose girl. Our fourth roommate had turned out to be called Babita. She was immediately squealing. Her soles pushed against the rose girls hind. The rose girl fell over on her back helplessly. Radha pushed one of her bare feet on the rose girl’s big breast. Radha’s other foot landed on the rose girls face smooshing the skin. Trishana was laughing out loud as my three roommates pinned the rose girl to the ground. The rose girl was winding her way around struggling against all the naked girl feet all over her body. I was absolutely stunned, when she slid sideways and her head dropped the rose in my lap. Trishana noticed my hesitation. She pushed me to the ground. The rose girl quickly pulled the clothes of my body.

I was laying there naked on the wooden floor. I could see under the beds. I could see the dust there. I could see the feet of my roommates as they were no calmly sitting on a bed. Trishana stuck the rose in my mouse. I could taste the saliva of the other girl. My tongue felt the bite marks on the rose from other girls. Evil Trishana reached behind my legs and touched my vagina. It was so startling that I lurched up. The next time that Trishana touched my intimate part, I was quickly rallying forward on my hands and knees. I did not know, what awaited me, yet I moved forward. I was intimately touched and naked. In a way, I felt great. All my anxiety and worries about performing at school at left me. I was forced to be in the moment and act in the moment. It was a wonderful freedom of thought, worry, and responsibility.

As I exited our room, I knew that the only way to get out of this was to quickly drop the rose in a girl’s lap in the next room. More senior girls were standing in the hallway. They were cheering me on and pointed to another room. I felt my knees scrubbing on the dirty floor, where all the girls had walked. I looked up side to side at all the dressed senior girls, while I was naked. Trishana whispered in my ear that any disobedience in our room she could deal with punishment. Yet, out here, it would make her look bad in front of the other seniors. If I did well, she would have a treat for me. I rallied on.

The room that I entered was as simple and functional as ours. Yet, the girls were in a commotion. They were standing up on a bed, squealing, holding each other. Their senior student vainly tried to get them to sit down. I crawled up on the bed. Feet were pushing me from everywhere. One landed on my head, pushing me sideways. Another bare foot hit me on the side. One foot stood on my calves, keeping me in place. Like the earlier rose girl, I was quickly overpowered and fell on my side. The girls started standing on me. One stood on my breast. One stood on my stomach. One had a foot against my cheek and eye. I was utterly subjugated and subdued by their feet. One of them slipped. I quickly dropped the rose on her.

Two aides had to be called from the hallway to pull the clothes of her body as she was flailing. The other three girls huddled in a corner, abandoning her told her to give up her clothes to free them. I was told to put on her blue panties. They were moist from her vaginal discharge. They were a size too small and slipped in between my vaginal lips giving me a camel toe. They pushed against my butt hole. The bra was two sizes too large and kept sliding off my breast, making my nipples stand out in the traditional sari dress. I walked back to my room, relieved that it was over. I was almost eager to see the other girls, because I was safe now.

With each girl in our room that got the rose game behind her, there were fewer feet pushing back the incoming rose girls. So, they got overpowered quicker. Radha did not even struggle. She proudly told the new rose girl that she was wearing no underwear. It almost seemed that Radha had known and was out to embarrass the girl. Yet, it turned out that Radha knew more than we did.

After the game, Trishana brought us evening cookies and tea. She told everyone that I had done the best job of all of them. She said that the seniors had taken me into the most unruly room and I had done well. Those girls learned a lot about following the rules from me, even I had to unjustly struggle and even take a couple kicks that were against the rule. She took my head and guided it into her lap. She caressed my hair as she went on talking I could smell her skin through the pants. The fabric of her pants went a bit fuzzy in front of me, because it was so close. I felt her strong stomach against the back of my head. I was still wearing the too tight panties of the unruly girl that gave me a constant wedgie and flow of sensations from that lower area of my body.

Trishana lectured us that there were many rules and rites in the dormitory. Some were to be followed by everyone. For example, due to hygiene the girls had to shave all their intimate hair. They would also be banned from wearing panties. At any time, a senior could demand inspection. Then, one had to quickly bare ones vagina for inspection on shaving.

She asked Anisha to step forward and show her pussy to all of them. Anisha refused like in the morning. Trishana slapped her faced. Before Anisha could struggle backward and away from Trishana, Trishana reached under Anisha’s t-shirt and pinched her nipple hard. Anisha gasped. A second slap crossed Anisha’s face. Anisha instinctively struggled backwards. Yet, her nipple started hurting as Trishana kept her in place with it. A third slap crossed her face. The side of her face was getting red. Anisha struggled to get away from the slaps, yet struggled to moved forward to release the pain of her nipple. Exhausted, Anisha submitted: “I will do it, mother Trishana.”

“Sweet, Anisha, you have so much to learn.” With that Trishana pushed my head of her lap. She pulled Anish in. Trishana straddled Anisha’s head between her thighs and wrapped her arms around her abdomen. Than, she asked Rhada to pee on the bared soles of Anisha’s feet. Rhada follwed the orders. She squatted down. She put her vagina next to the feet of Anisha. She peed on them. The stream ran down in lines on Anisha’s feet. There were little dust marks, where the feet were still dry. A puddle of urine gathered on our wooden floor. I was dazed. I worried about the cleanup.

Trishana produced a rubber band. She asked us to flick it against the soles of her feet. She called this bastinado. We were supposed to teach our roommate as well. If one of use failed to show the discipline, the others would have to help out. Trishana gave me the rubber band. I did not dare disobeying her orders. I stretched the rubber band across the sole of her foot. I reached with an index finger to pull it back. I let it snap. I shuddered, when Anisha deeply ‘woohooed’ muffled into Trishana’s thighs.

Babbita handed out the most punishment. She was almost being mean. By the time that it was her turn, Anisha’s soles had already welted up. The urine had speed up the swelling. Babbita cheered on, as she snapped the rubber band, “You are the lowest of all. You deserve nothing but hard love. Give mother Trishana respect.” Babbita worked the rubber band so hard that it broke. By this time, Anisha had exhausted her cries and struggle.

When Trishana told Anisha to lick up Rhada’s urine, she had completely surrendered and started licking the yellow urine on the floor.

“You cleaning up is not simply demeaning or fixing things after the mess. It is more symbolic. It is for you to learn to lick up the advice of your sisters. Not only am I here to discipline you. They may discipline you as well at any time, they feel that you need the help. If at night, you cry in your sleep, I may not hear it. However, your sisters will be there to make sure that you sleep soundly. If you do not do your homework, your sisters can think of ways to make you remember. You are lucky that Rhada has a small bladder. You are already done. Now, sit up on the bed and show me your pussy.”

A little soap was wetted and made foamy. The foam was spread all over her pubic hair. Anisha was leaning back on her arms. Her legs were spread wide over the edge of the bed. You could see her inner thigh muscles attaching at the center like a string from both sides. Her hair was black, curly, and very thick. Trishana pulled the skin smooth to bring down the razor blade. She pushed on her clitoris get all the last hair around it. A little towel was used to wipe off the soap. She looked like a baby. Trishana sent her off. Anisha got up quietly and sullenly without an emotion.

We all got shaved. A strange feeling came across me, when Trishana touched me. It was like each touch of her sent of a wave of goose bumps racing across my body until the ebbed out. In anticipation, I was looking forward to the next touch. I don’t know, what happened, but I felt overcome with good feelings. And, I kissed Trishana on the cheek. That was her cue.

“There are also many secret rules. They are secret, because the knower of those rules can get a good benefit from them. Tonight, as a reward for her rose girl performance, Sheela will be introduced to one of them. I will take her with me after I leave you for the night. Before I leave, one thing, you must know. Between dawn and dusk, freshman girls are only allowed naked outside of their room. If you are caught with any clothing after dark, you and I will be punished. You don’t want me to get punished, do you?”

Trishana walked me out of our room. I was naked. It was almost normal by now to take off clothes. The idea that in the morning, we struggled so hard against it seemed foreign. The dim lighting of the light bulb made the hallway look differently. I followed into a room that was in huge dishevel. The blankets were on the ground. The clothes were flung all over. Seniors were busy to attend to the residents of the room. Three of them were tied up and gagged. The fourth was naked lying on her back, held down by two seniors. Next to me on the floor were two other naked freshmen girls. They were kneeling on the floor. Their hands were flat on the ground in front of their knees. I was made to kneel in the same manner next to them. We were pushed close to each other. I could feel the other girl’s skin. I could feel her breathing. I could feel her shivering occasionally. I could feel her breathing calming down. It calmed me down as well. She was, what we call a rural beauty. Her face was brown and a bit exotic. Her face was almost like a mask looking differently from everyone. Yet, it looked graceful. Her breasts were brown and standing up. Her body was slender and powerful like a tiger. Her pussy was shaved like mine, only she had a few scratch marks from the razor.

“Let me tell you girls, what we have here. This is a room of trouble makers. They have not submitted to the rules of our dormitory. They will in due time, because we have much experience in breaking down little girls like you. Some of us even enjoy the wild mustangs more than the docile domesticated ones. We all match your temperament with the predisposition and loves of your senior.”

“Today, you have been selected to learn about one of our secret rules. Being comrades, we have to share. The girls in this room kept secret about the candy that they had. Anybody who does not share willingly has to give it all away. Now, there is a sweet rule. If you find such a hoarder, every time that you fart in their face, they have to give you one thing. And, it is your choice, what you take. Trishana has volunteered Sheela to show the other two, how it is done.”

Trishana grabbed me hard by the throat. I lost balance and composure, as she dragged me to the bed. I recognized the girl on the bed as the chubby rose girl that had dropped the rose in my lap. I was shoved down on the chubby girl in reverse. Thus, my behind was near her face. And, I could see her vagina. I had never seen a vagina that up close. I could see the inner lips extending beyond the vulva. The inner lips were thin and shriveled. As they went further her butt, they disappeared completely behind the vulva. I could see the hood of her clitoris. All was in lovely brown skin that got very dark, wherever the skin was thinner. My arms were resting against her chubby body. I could feel the flab of that flesh. Her body was tense under mine.

Next thing, I felt something violating my anus. Something was pushed up. It was small, yet startling. Trishana had anticipated my jolt. Her hand was still pressing on my throat to keep me from moving forward. Also, she had pinched my clitoris to keep my butt from moving away. I thought that I had involuntarily torn of a skin from my vagina as I jolted. Yet, it all seemed in place and only tearing and hurting. I eased my discomfort and pushed my clitoris against Trishana’s hand to limit the pull on it.

Again, I gasped, apparently, a straw was in my behind. Someone had started blowing inside of my rectum. I gasped. I was vivid. I pushed myself harder against Trishana to avoid jerks that would hurt me. I tried to say something. Words garbled in my head, I quipped ‘help.’ The straw was pulled out of my butt.

“Okay, now to do it right, you have to put your anus on her face. If you don’t feel the skin of her face, you are not close enough. Do not fart too early.”

The air in my stomach was hurting. I was struggling to hold it in. I very carefully lowered my butt towards were I thought the face was. Two impatient hands pushed me down. I felt the nose of the face pushing in my anus. I felt the mouth under my bottom opening. I felt a chin and a lower lip wet against my pussy. I had never imagined a kiss down there for my whole life. Another helping hand rubbed my belly and pushed in it. I could not help it. I felt embarrassed about making the poor girl suffer by emptying my fecal gases on her face. The chubby girl called out and started wiggling in revulsion. However, it only drove her nose a bit deeper in my ass. Her wet lip on my pussy felt strangely good. I tried to reconcile the suffering that I was brining, my embarrassment, and the warm physical feeling. The fart lasted a few seconds. I felt her warm body. Somehow, it felt good to feel someone else, to not feel lonely.

I can’t explain my thought or justify my actions. I can only be truthful. Something had driven me to ask to deliver another fart. This time, the straw filled me with more air. I pushed my bottom down on the face. I had this warm feeling in my vagina. I pushed that on her face. I felt her wriggling again under there. It felt so good. This time the chubby girl stuck her tongue out in a vomiting motion. Her tongue on my vagina felt good.

Trishana moved me to a box filled with candy. I had seen only photos of candy. In our village, the sweets we had were fruit. We were mostly self sustained with what the land delivered. We did not have the money to buy candy in the stores. So, I saw the glittery wrapping paper for the first time up close. There were so many with colorful labels. I picked a golden one with a second green wrapper on top. It said ‘chocolate’ on it. I was curious about the taste. Trishana pointed to a rainbow colored small ball and said that it was one of the best.

On the way back to my room, the chocolate was melting in my mouth. I had never experienced food disappearing in my mouth without chewing like that. My saliva was so quick to come forth, so that I had a whole wad of chocolate and sugar in my mouth. I tried not to swallow to enjoy the taste a little longer. My ‘sisters’, the roommates, laughed at me for having gotten the chocolate all over my hands. I guess, I am not experienced in handling candy.

Luckily, the evening program was over. I was allowed to close my eyes and withdraw into the privacy of my own thoughts. The thoughts quickly vanished into a black hole, as I fell into a deep slumber. An odd noise startled me. The room was very dark, because the moon had waned so much. The noise happened again. It came from the direction of Anisha. Anisha was sobbing in her sleep. I wondered what to do. I wondered about the abuse and strangeness of college. I wondered, if I should run away from this place. I weighed between running back home to the small farm for safety or getting a college education and exploring this new world.

Rhada rustled and walked over to Anisha’s bed. The sound of blankets lifting drifted over to me. I turned. I saw the silhouette of Rhada’s body under the blanked over the lower part of the bed. Rhada made a sound for Anisha to be quiet. As Anisha did not quiet, Rhada reminded her that her sisters were supposed to help her with discipline, when Trishana was not around. Anisha started sobbing again. There was a bit of a physical struggle in the bed. I heard Rhada spitting. After a couple minutes, Anisha’s sobbing stopped. I tried to make sense of the barely audible licking and sucking sounds coming from there. A while later, Anisha started moaning as if in a release. Her moan was so much coming from the core of her being that I felt my body rattling on the inside. Rhada told her to put the pillow over her mouth. Shortly, after Rhada went back to her own bed. I wondered what the two had been doing.

In the morning, we were woken up by Trishana struggling to restrain a naked girl. The door swung open and hit the wall on the other end with a bang. The young girl was pushed on her knees. She was covered with scribbling of many other girls. The scribbling said, ‘whore’, ‘piece of shit’ and the like. The longest writing said, ‘give up school! You are only good as furniture for people to sit on.’

“Our little girl here has been found dressed in the hallway this morning. We have her learn her lesson by all the freshman girls writing on her body to remind her, how bad that behavior is. To motivate you girls, the meanest, nastiest, and most denigrating words will get you a special treat.”

When I wrote ‘dirty like a blue bull,’ I was questioned what a blue bull was. It is a kind of antelope that runs around in our fields. The droppings of it are especially vile smelling.

Babbita wrote the vilest of all words. The other three of us were shocked that she would break with our subtle resistance to not really punish and hurt the ones presented. She had circled the girl’s nipples and put arrows towards them: “Slut nipples only a dog would lick.” That one the contest for Babbita.

We were all lead out into the hallway, where a throng of naked girls awaited us. The sight of naked flesh, boobs, butts, thigh, and birthmarks was overwhelming. We were directed in a line that stretched down the whole corridor. Some of the girls were boisterous. Others had obviously spent the night crying. Some were used to the whole thing and secretly whispering each other messages. Even the rebellious once were patiently standing in line naked, because it was a little reprise for them from the torment. Being naked did not seem hard to any of us anymore.

Babbita was at the head of the line, as it hallway entered the stair case. The other floors held the other years. Each year had its own floor. Two seniors grabbed her wrists and tied her to the railing of the stairs going up. She was sitting on a table that had been brought in. Her feet were tied to the bottom of the table legs. They were so tied that she had to scoot her butt forward to be flush with the edge of the table. She was slouching back as to present her vagina. Her legs were spread apart. We could all see her sex. Her labia lips had unfolded like the petals of a flower. All the girls in the hallway could see her naked and exposed. There was a bit of white sap from the night showing. Even those droplets were exposed to everyone.

It was explained that her treat was that everyone had to kiss her vagina. At the time, I did not understand, why this was supposed to be a treat. The first girl got it quickly over with. She was a short girl with classes that gave her a school girl look even in her birthday suit. She leaned forward and snapped right back as she turned to walk away.

Babbita looked in horror as the next girl was dragged by her hair towards her. She was the only Caucasian girl in school. She had blond hair. She was dragged hair first leaning forward. Her head was pushed down onto Babbita’s pussy. Only when the senior next to her heard the smooch of a real kiss, was she released.

Babbita was struggling to look away as all the different girls were paraded in front of her. She was scared of the mean girls. She distasted the dirty girls. She disliked the girls taking their liberties. Some would like her. One even nibbled with her teeth at her clitoris a bit. She wriggled as even the ugly girls were pushed down on her.

By the time that I got to kiss her, she had been quite used. As my face moved closer to her vagina, it grew in front of me. I started smelling the mint gum of one girl. When I kissed her, I could taste the chocolate residue of a girl that had snacked candy a little earlier. I could smell the perfume that had rubbed of the faces of some girls onto her thighs. I gave her a neat kiss. I slightly sucked the tender moist flesh and released it with a resounding smooch. Babbita was calm. She looked down at me like from a daze, as I moved back. There was a kind of happiness radiating from her. She was completely motionless. Her glance went straight through me.

We were released to our rooms to prepare for class. I was glad for the academics to take my mind off all that had happene.d Babbita was strangely transformed. She went around hugging girls and lingering on, until the girls would move her away. She looked lost. She did not take any notes during class. A girl was teasing her about her piggy nose. She did not fight back. She was completely passive. The teacher told the teasing girl to be quiet. I wanted to help her. However, when I approached her during intermission, she would only hug me and kind of suck me in. It felt too intimate and I moved her away.

The last bell of the day sent us back to the dormitory. There was that little time between end of class and dawn. At dawn, Trishana would return. For now, we had a little time to be ourselves, to do our homework, or simply collect our emotions. I was going over my class notes. Rhada disappeared in our bathroom to make herself clean and fresh. Perhaps, in a way, she wanted to wash off whatever had happened and be ready for the new. After five minutes, she called my name in an alluring sing son kind of way. The bathroom door was wide open. She stood there with her feet wide apart. Her body was wet. She was holding the green garden hose in one hand. Her index finger made a hook movement. I blushed at seeing her naked and turned around. After being dressed in class for a day, my familiar sense of modesty had returned.

“Anisha and Babbita, we need a littler sisterly discipline. Sheela has forgotten Trishana’s reward that she has to scrub my back. Get her over here.”

Babbita’s meanness was back. Her eyes were shining like red hot coals. She pulled me by my hair, so that it hurt. She shoved me in front of Rhada: “Go wash her back.” Rhada handed me the soap with a smile. Rhada’s back was beautiful. I could see the line of her back muscles next to her spine. At her upper back, I could make out the individual vertebras. There were little smooth hairs on her back that made tiny ripples in the water flowing over her. Whenever I pushed the sponge against her back, she involuntarily shifted a bit forward. I had to put my other arm around her body to brace her from the front. So, I was half hugging her, as I scrubbed down her back. I did a neat job. Luckily the soap was washed down the back quickly.

“Sheela, Trishana said that you had to wash my back for a week and whatever else I need washed. See you are innocent from the country. I have been with men. I want to be clean for him, if I should meet a stud. So, I want you to gather as much water as you can in your mouth and blow it up my vagina. That way, I will get clean on the inside. See, I can’t bend there myself and do it.”

I froze. Babbita was quick push the garden hose in my mouth. She pinched my lips around it. I drank a few gulps. Babbita warned me that my stomach may split, if I kept drinking instead of filling my cheeks. My lips were pushed under Rhada. I blew the water into her as hard as I could. My lips were against her intimate lips. There was a it of resistance. It failed at first. However, on the second try, I learned to feel with my lips for her entrance before I pushed the water in hard. The water flowed immediately out of Rhada’s vagina.

I kneeled there for a moment, when Rhada started peeing at my face and belly laughing. Babbita quickly moved to push my mouth against the urethra. She pinched my nose close hard. I started feeling the stale taste of urine in my mouth. It was warm. It was wet. It didn’t taste like much, yet had this kind of dry yucky taste. As my nose was pinched closed, I struggled for air and ended up swallowing one gulp of urine after the next. I was being used as a toilet. It was so unfair, because the punishment did not come from Trishana and was not prescribed by Trishana.

Rhada said that it was time to clean her ass. The crafty Babbita quickly had the garden hose in my mouth again and was filling me up. I felt so demeaned and abused. I did not have the power to struggle. Yet, as I was pushed against Rhada’s asshole, I was stunned. I pushed the water in their as fast as I could to get away from it. When I was empty and Babbita let me struggle a little bit back, Rhada’s anus started releasing some of the water. It squirted out in a narrow and strong stream. It was not one round stream. It was a stream that was pretty thin and wide. The stream landed right between my boobs. It was slightly brown. It ran down my belly and over my pussy. The thought of her ass water dirtying my most intimate part was repulsing. They left me by myself in the puddle of water on the floor to clean up myself. I cried and sobbed. Though, nobody heard me over the running water or came.

After I had cleaned myself up, I could not see another way than to see the principal’s office. I left the room naked, yet had a set of clothes in my bag. I followed the hallway of so many overpowering memories to the stair case. The stair case had always promised some kind of freedom, the class time during the day was a time of safety. In front of the principal’s office, I quickly put on my clothes and entered. There was a large desk. The aged and hefty person behind all the papers was dressed in a prim suit. The old bookshelf and photos of famous person bestowed power on him. He humored by crying and rambling only for a few minutes. He led me out into the hallway. The whole weight of that man came down on my young girlish body as he pushed me down and inside the bottom cabinet of a cleaning supply closet in the hallway.

Around me was darkness save for the slit of light coming through the edges of the door. I was crammed on my knees hugging my arms around them. There was a bottle of cleaning solution and a sponge with me. His steps quieted as he disappeared down the hall. The space around me was small. My body touched the walls and the ceiling. My mind went blank, because it had been so overwhelmed. I kept looking at the little light coming in. I could see the marbling in the wood a little bit. My mind tried to see shapes in it. One set of circles looked a bit like a nose. Some imperfections in the wood looked like a crowd of people seen from a distance with all the faces looking in different directions and with different expressions. Some seemed to look down. Others had their head tilted back as if to projectile their words even further. The light dimmed increasingly until it was impossible to see anything anymore.

A gaggle of foot steps from girls came closer. The leather soles of their shoes clapped. They were coming for me. They were quiet. They gagged my mouth with fabric. Then, they put a wool blanket over me and tied it to my body immobilizing my arms. They led me to walk with them. I could not see anything. I could not call out, except for breathing louder. The only sense that I had left were my feet.

We left the wooden floor of our dormitory building. We walked over the rough surface of the pavement in the yard. It was like a million little stones: stimulating, yet not painful. To my horror, I felt the dirt of the road in front of the school. I felt an occasional water puddle that I stepped into. There was an occasional smashed flat can. There was a paved road that I felt as we crossed. The surfaces, the dirt, and garbage blended together. The first surface that I noticed again was smooth and cold. It was a marble surface. The air was cooler hear. It was quieter here. There were no more street noises. The congregation stopped.

The blanket and my clothes were taken from me. I was in the middle of a large hallway type of room. On my side a wide marble stair case with large and elegant hand railing came down. From the center hallways left in all four directions. The hallways were closed with double doors. The doors were made of glass that was partitioned into many little pieces by metal intersections. The door handles were made from iron and delicately crafted. There were large portraits of famous people at the wall. A large bouquet the size of a child stood on a mahogany table. It had so many eclectic different flowers. I had never seen such a thing.

I was lifted backwards on the pedestal of the marble pillar that came down right at the bottom of the flight of stairs. My hands were tied behind my back and behind the pillar. My hair was tight in a punch and affixed higher up. There was a bulge in the pillar that did not let the noose slide down that held my hair and by extension my whole body standing. My ankles were tied to the pillar. The girls scrawled ‘enjoy our present’ across my chest and left.

The solitude did not last long. A girl appeared at the top of the stairs. She was dressed in school uniform. Patent leather high heels, a plaid skirt, and a clean white blouse. She had an expensive looking bracelet. She was seemed a freshman like her. She burst in a sharp giggle and quickly disappeared. Within a minute, three more girls came running. They were jumping down the stairs in eagerness. They carefully looked me over. They evaluated my breast. The evaluated my pussy. They discussed my finger nail length. They considered my hair cut with contempt as cheap. I felt so helpless and exposed. I felt like I had to obey them and take whatever they offered.

They looked pretty in their uniform dress code. Their finger nails were beautifully painted. They all had their hair done in a special way. They were talking in such a refined way. The tallest of them got a blue marker out. She started writing on my belly. It felt ticklish. She drew a line towards my private part. She read out loud, ‘special! One use – one rupee only’ Then she got a rupee out and put it at my feet. She turned to the other girls and asked, ‘how many fingers will go in?’ They were all eager: ‘Oh, she is a rural scare crow, only one.’ ‘Oh, no, the girls at that college are sluts, she will get three fingers in.’

The tall girl spat on her index finger. She asked for a drum roll. The girls started making a ‘woohoo’ sound that got each time a little louder. The tall girl gave a last smile, before she fingered my vagina to search for the opening. I struggled to put my knees together. Yet, I had no power to keep her from probing me. She felt the entrance me and pushed in. It felt awkward and rough. The girls cheered, ‘we love our toy.’ The short girl of the group was also a little chubby. She had the loudest voice. She raised a rupee into the air for all of them to see. Then, she put it in between my toes and reminded to remember this coin, because this was a going to be special. She spat on her fingers. She put a thumb on my clitoris and started circling it. Her three fingers prodded against my vagina entrance. It was way too tight. After massaging around a bit, she slipped in the middle finger. She pushed it to one side and tried to get the index finger in as well. I cried out through the gag in my mouth as she managed to do it. She pulled her fingers out and said that ‘I won’t hurt you, baby.’

All the noise had attracted more girls to come and inspect the scene. Now that she was in a crowd of students of the apparently affluent rival school, she was given a bit more space. The girls were excited about their find, yet hesitant to step out of the crowd and get noticed individually. One girl jumped up on the pedestal of the pillar to rub her dressed body against my naked body and wave to the crowd. Another girl slapped my breast. Yet, another girl smeared tooth paste on my face in wide circles.

A leader emerged from the group with a marker. She wrote on my body: “Options: 1) Walk naked through the streets like an animal. 2) Clean our rooms. 3) Treat her nice.” People made strike marks on her body under whichever option they liked most. It was interrupted by the bell for the first class of the day to start. The girls started leaving into the hallways. One girl walked up to her and reached into her mouth. She pulled a big blue pile of bubble gum and spit out of it. She pinched it between her thumb, index and middle finger. She reached out and pushed it up my sex as if I were the bottom side of a table to hide a discarded chewing gum in. The girl next to her doubled over in amazement. The first one calmly replied, “Oh, I simply let the gum age and marinate in her juices. It’ll be a premium gum by the time of the first recess.” The second girl got excited. She quickly chewed a few times on fresh gum. Then, she pushed the bright pink gum up inside of me. It still had defined edges, because it was so fresh. More of the girls waiting to exit through the doors noticed the act and came back. They were pushing each other to reach me and stick all kinds of colored chewing gum inside of my private part. They were so excited that there were always four or so hands reaching up between my thighs at the same time. I started to feel full inside. I was relieved as the crowd thinned. A last girl had been standing back all this time, sucking on her round red/white colored small lollipop. She walked up to me. She reached between my thighs. She reached up. She spread my buttocks. Then, the lollipop came inside of my anus. The white stick was still sticking out. She cautioned me to not let it drop, or I would be in trouble

There I was naked, tied, and alone in this wonderful mansion of a school. I had two rupees at my feet. The bubble gum inside of me with everyone’s spit and food rests. It slowly fell down, gliding over my thighs. I clenched my butt muscles hard to avoid dropping the lollipop. The lollipop girl was the first to come through the door at recess. She was pleased to find the lollipop in place. She pulled it out of my ass. “Have you ever tasted yourself?” She took my gag off and pushed it into my mouth. It tasted exactly as I had expected shit to taste. She freed the rest of my bonds. She lowered me to the ground. My knees collapsed from standing. She immediately sat on my back and pretended that I was a horse. She called out ‘Yipieh’ like a cow girl. She pulled my hair as if they were reigns. The girls pushed closer around. I felt like under the canopy of dark plaid skirts. They were bold under the anonymity of a crowd. One grabbed for my boobs. Another tried to tickle my sides. They put a sticker on my ass. One even kissed me. I was being led to a girl, who was reclining on her back on the floor. Her skirt was flapped open. My face was pushed on her pussy. She had pulled her monogrammed panties to the side to give access to her wet pussy. She rubbed her pussy against my lips. The crowd went frantic. I could feel another girl rubbing her wet pussy against my ass. Yet, another girl was kneeling with her butt between her feet. She was rubbing her pussy on the heel of my foot. The girl in front of my mouth was switched for another. I was rolled over. The second girl on my face switched to squat on my face. Another girl straddled my legs to push her pussy against mine. Our pussy juices mingled, only she was a lot wetter. One girl squatted over my boobs trying to push the other girls away. She tried to get my left nipple in her pussy and was grinding on me.

The ten minutes of recess seemed like an eternity. I was left again naked and by myself in the hallway. Only, this time, I was not bound. The first door that I explored led straight to the entrance. Outside the door, I could see the busy streets of Bangalore. The women were wearing saris. The men had turbans. Monkeys were helping the sales men on the sidewalk to sell more. I would barely last seconds go out there naked. I was trapped inside of here.

There was a bathroom door. Behind it was a clean and well smelling bathroom. The stalls had European style seats. I was sitting up high as I relieved myself. The tissue paper was so soft and thick. It was luxurious. A beautiful orchid grew next to the think. Feeling the soft fabric of the towel trapped me for a few minutes. It was too long, because one of the girls came rushing in. She nonchalantly told me that the break room was down the hallway and had good leftovers.

I wandered there next, curious to explore such a rich place. The bread in the break room was soft and sweet. There were sixteen spreads to choose from. I picked a bread and put a little of each on a separate bite. Another girl interrupted her. The girl was a bit flustered as she gingerly stole away with the apple, that she had come to get. Before she left, she turned around, ‘You do realize that you are one of the first girls from that school, whom we treat nicely. Look on your body. Almost half the girls voted for option 3 to treat you nicely. They must like you.’

The rest of the day was a blur. The girls were so over themselves, to dress me in the school uniform, to make my nails, do up my hair. I was carefully scrubbed down to remove all the doodling on me. Precise fingers even made sure to get the last piece of chewing gum out of me. They walked me around the school premises. They fed me exquisite cookies, tea, and exotic dishes. They got me a little drunk on champagne. It was like I was in one of those stories of vast empires and high kings that my ma had told me as a child. The city was as a strange world for sure. All the luxurious treats that the girls had given me probably cost as much as my father made his whole life on the field back home. In the evening, they left me at the gate of my college with a letter in my hand that explained that I had been reformed and would drop all complaints to the principal.