Friday – thank GOD.

Schedules had been changed for all courses this year – it was virtually impossible to set up your course load to have Fridays off. No more 3-day weekends.

The usual tedium of the week had been vastly increased by this change, and Louisa regretted it – resented it – bitterly.

Friday started with a sour taste in her mouth, and she moved from class to class with a determined, almost inimical expression on her face. On more than one occasional her cold, reptilian glare made a young wag who sought to talk to her blanch and turn away in the mute cowardice of that particular sort only young men are conversant with.

She was a pretty girl, slender, straight carriage, a fine figure that bordered on womanly without being heavy in a young girl. When she was in good spirits her laugh and smile were infections, but on Friday, no young man of the university, no smooth frat boy, wished to test those inimical waters. So the dark haired beauty, blue eyes and a delicate face, stomped in a strange pattern from gothic building to building across the quadrangle every hour and a half – strange to anyone untutored in the assignment of classrooms that is.

Yet, as the day wore on, despite her peevishness, the sun began to peek from behind the clouds, so to speak. In her poetry class a smile escaped more than once, and by her mandatory science class – “Physics for the Curious” – she had regained all her good nature. There was no reason why she should be in good spirits – nothing planned this weekend, and she was not one to go to a party to swill beer from an old keg and “hook up.”

There was no denying it though, and she realized she was eager to get back to her off-campus apartment, positively rushing with excitement to catch the trolley and get off at her stop. Two blocks later and she was bounding up the stairs and into her apartment to greet her roommate Gingin with a big smile and “Thank God it is Friday girl; Weekend!”

Gingin was a very pretty girl as well, a blonde of striking Nordic proportions, indeed, she was born in Norway and moved to the States as a young girl. She was on the crew team, and looked every inch of it – lean, strong, tall with powerful legs and arms. Perhaps one day she might be solid, thick even, but now in the full flower of her youth she was a Valkyrie of sorts. Clean, even features, white-blonde hair and pale, ice blue eyes set upon that perfect and athletic body.

Right now she was looking up from her watch at Louisa with what could only be described, in all honesty, as a shit-eating grin. She looked like she had some secret knowledge, like she had pulled a fast one. It was a look she wore with an increasing frequency, and it had caused Louisa more and more irritation over the semester.

Junior year rooming together off-campus had seemed like a brilliant idea last year – two good friends with similar enough habits to be compatible – but the reality had never matched the ideal. Gingin had just become, well, a bitch. Nothing outright, but Louisa had slowly come to realize that Gingin didn’t like her, didn’t respect her, in some way was sniggering at her.

So while they were civil to each other, Louisa had withdrawn more and more into a guarded reserve towards Gin. But her good humor now would not be spoiled by bitch #1’s catty smile.

“What ya got planned Louisa?” “I dunno – maybe nothing, but I am ready to get out of the classroom! Anything after this week.” Despite her misgivings she asked, “You want to do something? Maybe head out to another school tonight or go shopping tomorrow?” “That sounds great Louisa, except I am not sure you should go out looking like that.”

God! What a…..what a cunt! “Looking like what?” slipped out before she could close her mouth – she should have said nothing. Gingin grinned ever more broadly and said, barely suppressing her mirth, “I mean, your hair’s falling out.”

Louisa had long, just perfectly wavy black hair. She was sinfully proud of it – knew it was her best feature – no possible chance her hair was falling out. Yet the second Gingin spoke, an unmistakable and strong dread and anxiety spread through her whole being. Worse than didn’t-show-up-for-the-whole-semester-today-is-exams dreams, worse than any misery for an appointment or childhood spanking or anything for that matter – cold dread filled her belly and limbs. She felt it – she was sure now she could feel her hair falling out in bunches all over her shoulders and she thought she might vomit. She ran to her bedroom, was about to look in her mirror when a giggling voice followed her from the living room. “Maybe your special hat will stop it from falling out!”

Louisa spun on a dime. Of course – her special hat! Only her special hat could stop the hair from falling out! She ran frantically to her bureau – to the drawer she never, ever opened, didn’t even know existed, and pulled it out. It was a strange hat – 6 black straps radiating out from the center, with heavy wires running on the inside, pieces of circuit board and other electronic “stuff” attached to it in various places. Maybe that was why it was special, but she KNEW it was the only thing that could stop her hair, her precious hair, from falling out. She pulled it on snug, pulled the two nylon straps at the bottom under her chin very tight so the upper part was mashed firmly against her skull, and snapped the chinstraps together. Without conscious thought her right hand, the logical hand, flicked the switch on the battery case that dangled from the special hat.

All the worry went away. All her anxious thoughts were banished – indeed, all thoughts were banished.

She was quiet, still, alone. She was open, a vessel waiting to be filled - tabula rosa, waiting to be wrote upon.

Some time later – no time later – she was seated on her bed quietly while a voice, THE voice, spoke to her. Every word the voice spoke poured into her, into the deepest places in her psyche, where things like “mommy,” “daddy,” “hot” and “bad” were stored.

“Look at these nylons Louisa.” Someone was holding up a pair of nylons, her black, sheer French-cut pantyhose. “These nylons are special, magical nylons. When you put them on, they make you sexually aroused and excited more than anything you have ever experienced.” This made sense – magic pantyhose would make you hot, make you so aroused. “The moment they touch your legs you start to get wet, get excited. You can’t help staring at yourself, you want to wear them and high heels and nothing else, look at yourself in the mirror and touch yourself. But you can’t get your hand inside the nylons, you can only rub yourself through them, and that just gets you hotter and hotter, but you can’t cum that way. You just get hotter and frustrated.” Yes, she would of course she would touch herself, being that excited, but the nylons would be too tight – never be able to fit her hand down there. Just rub herself and be frustrated, be excited.

Frustrated.

“Whenever you hear Gingin tell you it is time for ‘Nylon Nights’ you will just HAVE to put your magic nylons on – you will never wear them any other time. And as you wear them, get more and more excited, you will realize you need a big strong girl to stick her hand in your pantyhose and bring you off.” Of course, Gingin was the strongest girl she knew, would be easily able to force her hand inside her pantyhose, touch her pussy and rub her until she got off. Eminently sensible. “So you will want to parade around in front of her, show her how excited you are. And the more helpless and frustrated you feel, the more submissive and humble you will feel around Gingin. She will be this big, strong, beautiful girl you are desperate to touch you, and you will feel so humiliated by this that anything she says or does to you will seem fair. She will laugh at you and it will just make you hotter.” Who could blame a girl for laughing at a silly little slut in nylons? Of course Gin would laugh at her. The humiliation would be exquisite and exciting. “You will get so hot, so excited, so submissive that you will just have to show Gingin how you feel – by worshipping her pussy.”

Worship. Pussy.

“You will lick her and suck her and show her how hot you are, how you need to be her little sex toy.”

Little SEX Toy. Worship. Humiliation and submission. Hot and excited wearing her magic pantyhose – frustrated and hot.

“Whenever Gingin tells you it is ‘Bedtime for Sluts’ you will take off your magic nylons and head off to sleep. You will be so embarrassed by what you did you will not talk about, and can never tell anyone it ever happened. You will avoid thinking about it too much, and just resolve not to do it again – you will forget about your magic nylons until the next time you are told ‘Nylon Nights.’ Louisa, what do we call a girl who licks another girl’s pussy?”

Her own voice welled up now, from deep, deep inside her, in the dullest monotone possible – a voice not animated by human spirit.

“A lesbian.”

“So, since you are a slut for nylon pantyhose and submissive sex with a pretty girl, what does that make you?” She understood at her root level what she was then.

“A submissive lesbian nylon slut.” She was a submissive lesbian nylon slut. At the base of her being that was what she was now. A few more words followed, but soon enough it was time to take off her special hat and seal it away in the drawer she forgot she had – she needed to shower, shave, trim and change. She had a big night ahead of her – it was Friday night.

Louisa bounced back into the living room wearing a rugby shirt and shorts – she was still in her bouncy, almost jaunty mood, but strangely she did not want to go out. Maybe they would order food in and just hang – maybe Gingin would be nice to her. This thought occurred to her as she stepped into the living room and saw Gingin – she froze for a moment – stomach did a small somersault – an unaccustomed tightness across her belly and pelvis washed over her as she took in Gingin’s long and lovely frame draped across the couch in a t-shirt and khaki shorts.

“Wanna order some food Gin?,” she got out through a suddenly dry mouth and walked to the kitchen to grab some OJ from the fridge.

“Sure, Chinese from Seschuan East, ok?”

They made short work of dinner – in a brief time the empty corpses of defeated white boxes covered the coffee table. Idle chatter – television – two beers apiece as their food settled and though Gingin was still irritatingly smirky Louisa found herself raptly fascinated by her, paying attention to her, struggling to be as witty and smart and funny as she could be. An outside observer would have said she was smitten – would have expected such behavior from a girl with a crush.

At something like 9pm Gingin finally rose from the couch, towering above Louisa still kneeling on the floor – her grin predatory – excitement cascading off her – teasing over and game afoot – and said, “Louisa honey, it is time for Nylon Nights.”

Louisa reared back as if shocked – indeed a shock of excitement, irresistible need had coursed through her and she stood up ramrod straight. She needed to put on her magic nylons!

Wordlessly she marched away, Gingin forgotten as she hurried to her room and closed the door. She was almost sick with excitement as she stripped down to her panties and bra, then discarded them as well. Her top right drawer held it – her magic nylons. The feel was incredible, the color smoky almost black, she would have rubbed it over her face but she needed them on her now.

Pulling the hose up was an act of self-pleasuring – her vagina soaking and tensing as she rolled the fabric higher. It felt perfect on her, smooth, sensual, tight and hot. Her nipples had hardened, crinkled, tight nubs – her breath came in ragged gasps. There. She stood up and looked at herself, at her gorgeous figure encased in nylons, the French cut panty perfect for her. She couldn’t believe how hot she looked, but she lacked one thing. Her only pair of high heeled shoes, black and glossy patent leather made her stand up straight and her legs unbelievable. Staring at herself in the mirror, she brought her hands up to touch her belly, glide up along her ribs and cup her breasts, gently pulling and teasing her own nipples. She couldn’t get over how excited she was, how good she felt - was amazed – dazed with lust for herself – needed relief and her hands slid lower, down to the place between her legs where a fire smoldered.

She held her pose for a moment in the mirror – the image of her in her nylons was so exciting she thought she might come just by looking. But instead she stared her image in the eye and slid her hands down to that hot wet junction where her legs met. She swallowed hard as the pleasure doubled – trebled – she was pushing on her pussy, mashing on her clit and she was so turned and on so wet! So wet, but as she rubbed and built to climax, pushed her hips out obscenely bucking against her hands she found to her increasing frustration that she kept “missing” her cum. Balanced on a precipice, not quite tumbling over. She bit her lip in frustrated denial – her passion was not ebbing – she was still frantic with desire but not able to find relief.

She lay back on the bed, legs spread, and ran her hands up her thighs to the waistband of her nylons, intending to shove hands down there and rub herself off. But to her amazement, as if by magic, the nylons were too tight to get her hands in! No matter how hard she tugged and pushed she just could not get in there.

All the while gasping tickles of desire in her belly - that hollow feeling of lust like an elevator drop, was driving her mad. She could not cum though. She thought she might cry, when a sudden thought sprang full flower into her mind.

Gingin.

Gingin was strong. She would not be put off by any fabric – a veritable Amazon (that thought sent another flash to her pussy) – she could make Louisa cum. Fear and dread of humiliation warred within her – an observer would have seen each shot, each blow of that spiritual battle played out upon her face and frame. Every battle has a victor though, and she lurched from the bed and staggered to the door, flushed and afraid and excited.

She thought she might stop breathing, shame and dread so strong her mouth felt parched, dry - impossible to swallow – this was insane – and there she was, standing in the living room in front of her college roommate, dressed only in high heeled shoes and black nylons.

Gingin was suppressing a giggle, looking at her, grinning and then a lovely, gurgling laugh peeled out of her. It was crazy though – Louisa found herself answering the laugh with a smile. She felt and looked ridiculous – humiliated – and she liked the feeling. It felt good and, well, sexy, to be laughed at by Gingin. She strutted forward towards Gingin, the heat in loins and on her cheeks growing.

“Is there – ohoho! – there something I could help you with Louisa?” Gingin managed to choke her sarcasm out between peals of laughter – genuine merriment.

“Well, I was trying on some clothes…you know, thinking about going out. I was uh, wondering, if you thought this was sexy?” She bit her lip again in fear of rejection, dismissal – she needed Gingin.

“Do I think it looks sexy? Or are you asking me if I think a guy would be turned on? Because I am a woman too, I mean, what do you think I am?”

“Uh, uh…”

“Uh, uh, Weeza, what do we call girls who think other girls are sexy?” Again, that painful, almost impossible dry-mouth swallow. In a tiny, stupid voice,

“Lesbians?”

“Are you asking me a question or answering me definitely?”

“Um, Yes. Lesbians. Definitely lesbians.”

“And what do we call lesbians who dress like you are right now?”

My God, what a perceptive question. For a second she saw herself as another might – black pantyhose and heels, nipples hard and pebble-like, breath shallow and neck/chest flushed. Louisa stiffened suddenly, felt a shock run from her brain to her cunt and almost convulsed. She was…a submissive lesbian nylon slut.

“Submissive lesbian nylon sluts…,” came out in the barest whisper.

“Come here, you stupid little slut.” Louisa felt herself dawn to where Gingin had pointed, walking forward as if in a dream, through invisible quicksand, moving but oh so slowly, each step a tortured inevitability.

Finally she made it to the couch before Gingin, standing between her legs. Gingin was grinning broadly at her, but for all her triumph, flushed pleasure and laughter – she was excited. Gingin might laugh but her breath was heavy, her body alive and taut. The tension was incredible, excruciating for Louisa until Gingin pointed down. Louisa sank to her knees there in the living room on the cheap carpet of their apartment, in a position she could never have imagined. She was staring straight at Gin’s crotch, at the long tan legs on either side of the khaki shorts, feeling ludicrous and excited at the same time.

When Gingin pulled Louisa’s head in – when she felt her face pressed against the fabric of Gin’s shorts – she felt so controlled, so submissive, she longed to please Gingin. She felt tiny and like – like a toy.

Toy.

A Little Sex Toy. That line from her brain to her cunt went live again and she thought she might orgasm but not quite, Gin was grinding again her face and Louisa was on fire for her. She wanted to worship Gingin – that was it! She needed to worship Gin, be a little lesbian sex toy for her and worship her pussy. She adored the hand on the back of her head, directing and controlling her.

Gingin was pushing Louisa back on her heels – Gin was shrugging her shorts off and then her panties were gone too. Louisa came back to her place kneeling before Gingin – Gin’s legs were spread so wide, she was laying back, Louisa knew what she needed to do but for a moment was unable to move. She was stunned by what she saw. Louisa was face to….was facing another woman’s pussy, naked and wet. Wet lips framed with pale blonde hair – God, Louisa could smell her.

She found herself tentatively tasting Gin, but then pulled in and licking for all she was worth. The taste was – strong, very strong – she was terribly excited though. The smoothness, wet and slick – the tickle of hair – then the pressure of Gingin’s hand pulling her in. She did not force it – went at Gingin’s pace, but when Gingin by pressure of her hand and moans signaled she was near her peak, Louisa applied herself to Gin’s clit, pulling the hood back and sucking gently but firmly.

Louisa felt a surge of pride, and absurd pleasure, like she had been a good girl, as Gin came shaking gently under her mouth. She love to please Gin, be her little sex toy. Louisa continued to shower small kisses on her roomie’s mons and thighs – conscious that her face was coated in juices. She felt a strong positive emotion welling up in her for Gingin – not quite love, but respect, admiration – an intense desire to please – she was thrilled to hear Gingin say “That felt good…you liked licking my pussy didn’t you little Weezaslut?”

“Oh yes Gingin. Thank you (mmmm) thank you for letting me worship your pussy (mmm – a long kiss) I am just your little lesbian toy. I-I want to worship you –“

She was cut off. Gingin had pulled her up. She helped undress Gin the rest of the way, and then as Gingin lay back she was allowed – oh it felt right – permitted to gently suckle on her Amazon mistress’ nipples. Louisa longed to please, be a silly little submissive lesbian, she gently licked one nipple, moved to the other breast and tenderly licked, gently pulled with her fingers to get Gin’s nipple erect and taut. Every time Gin touched her head or murmured approval that absurd feeling of pride surged through her – she longed to please Gin. God, as hot as she was, it was more important to please Gingin, be a good little slut – the very idea of being decked out in nylons and heels while she strained to please another woman filled her with perverse shame and pleasure.

“Use your mouth on me again you little slut. Lick me and show me with your mouth how you feel about me.” Louisa liked being talked to like that – it was fair and appropriate. She moved down Gingin’s torso, thrilled with her hard body, with the hollow at her hips, the hollows in her inner thighs – then was allowed one more time to gently suck her mistress off.

Louisa was aware of how one sided this was – she was giving and Gin taking – this made it better. If she were good enough – submissive enough – licked and sucked just right – Gin would come. Louisa was pleasing Gin, pleasing the beautiful, strong athlete who completely dominated her and was grateful to do it.

They were both breathing hard, both flushed, each with passion, but for one the passion had been fulfilled, the other frustrated.

Louisa had been frustrated all night and got off on it – but now Gin was leading her to Louisa’s room. Louisa allowed herself to be led, then steered – Gingin’s strong hands turned her to face the mirror.

God they were a beautiful sight. Louisa in the fore, dark and lush, Gingin behind, blond and long and toned – both had blue eyes but with different accents. Gin’s were clear and pale like ice, while Louisa’s were a deep blue and a brilliant contrast to her dark hair – a remnant from her blonde hair and blue-eyed childhood that had stayed. Louisa felt Gin’s arms wrap around her – it made her feel even smaller and weaker to have Gin holding her tight, looming over her shoulder. Gin’s hair tickled her shoulder – that wonderful voice tickled in her ear. “You want me to make you cum, don’t you Weeza slut?”

She nodded and moaned. “You can’t get yourself off – you need a big strong girl like me to make you cum like a submissive slut, right Weeza?”

Big strong girl. Submissive slut – lesbians and nylons. She had her eyes closed now, so hot so- “Open your eyes and watch, Weeza.”

So she did, and gasped in pleasure as Gingin slid her hands down, down, down past her boobs and belly to that uncrossable meridian of pantyhose – and then Gingin had slid her hands in, was grasping her pussy firmly – the way she needed to be held – two fingers sliding in past the dark hair on her pubis into her slick, wet center. Part of the pleasure was being made to watch – to watch herself held like a toy while Gingin manipulated her sex. Gin had long fingers - they curled in to push against the inside of Louisa’s pubic bone. It didn’t take long – a few rubs back and forth of those strong hands and she came powerfully, bucking in Gingin’s strong firm grasp – she was crying she realized dimly – pathetically grateful for the attention and relief.

Louisa collapsed in a puddle on the floor as Gingin lowered her, kneeling again, and a strong scent was in her nose. Gingin’s wet fingers, and Louisa obediently opened wide and licked Gin’s hand clean – she liked the taste – liked being nasty and controlled by Gin even better. Soon the hand left though, and she realized it was “Bedtime for Sluts.” For all her weakness she quickly put away her magic nylons, crawled into bed and curled up spent and satisfied.

A small part of her knew she would feel guilty tomorrow for what she had done, but for now it had been a wonderful Friday night and she loved what she had done and had done to her.