Chapter Two
The vibration inside me is a constant, humming reminder of my new reality.
Every step I take toward the orientation meeting feels like a gamble.
The egg is nestled deep against my G-spot, and every time my thighs brush together, the friction sends a jolt of electricity straight to my brain.
I’m wearing a floral sundress—something innocent and breezy—but underneath, I’m completely bare, my pussy slick with a mixture of strawberry lube and my own arousal.
I can feel the wetness dripping down my inner thighs. I didn’t even bother with a liner; Connor’s command to "leave the door open" had extended to a general sense of openness that I’m finding impossible to resist.
I feel a sudden, violent throb from the egg inside me. I stumble slightly, a small moan escaping my lips. I don't know if it's a coincidence or if Connor is holding the remote in his pocket as he walks ahead of me, but the intensity of the vibration spikes, nearly buckling my knees.
"Keep up, Wanda," Connor calls out without looking back.
He’s walking with a confident stride, the clipboard tucked under his arm. He knows exactly what I’m feeling. He knows that with every step, I’m getting closer to a breaking point.
The orientation meeting is held in the common room, a large space with plush carpets and oversized sofas.
About twenty students are already there, and the atmosphere is thick with a tension that isn't academic.
There are girls sitting with their legs crossed loosely, eyes glazed, and guys leaning back with an air of predatory patience.
I find a seat at the edge of a sofa, trying to keep my composure. But the moment I sit, the egg shifts, pressing harder against my sensitive walls. I bite my lip, my knuckles turning white as I grip the edge of the cushion.
Connor stands at the front of the room, his presence commanding the space. He doesn't start with the rules of the dorm or the fire safety protocols. He starts with the philosophy of the Open Door Policy.
"Hawthorne is a high-pressure environment," Connor begins, his voice echoing through the room.
"The stress of pre-med, law, and engineering can break a person. That’s why Hawthorne Hall operates on a system of mutual release.
We don't believe in the barriers of traditional modesty.
Here, your body is a resource for the community, and the community is a resource for you. "
He pauses, his eyes scanning the room before locking onto mine. A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face.
"The Open Door Policy is simple: if your door is open, you are available. No questions, no negotiations. You are free-use. Whether it's a quick handjob between classes or a full night of degradation, the open door is your consent."
A few of the girls in the room shift, their breathing becoming audible. I feel a wave of heat wash over me. The idea of being a 'resource'—of being used whenever and however someone desired—should terrify me. Instead, it makes the vibration inside me feel like it's melting my insides.
"Now," Connor continues, "to ensure everyone is on the same page, we're going to do a practical demonstration of the 'wellness check' I mentioned earlier. I need a volunteer who is new to the policy."
My heart stops. He doesn't wait for a hand to go up. He points a finger directly at me.
"Wanda. Come to the front."
The room goes silent. Twenty pairs of eyes lock onto me.
I feel a surge of panic, but it's quickly drowned out by a crushing sense of submission.
I stand up, my legs shaking, the dress clinging to my damp thighs.
As I walk toward him, I can feel the gaze of every person in the room traveling over my body, imagining what's underneath the floral fabric.
When I reach him, Connor doesn't say a word. He reaches out and grabs my wrist, pulling me close. He leans in, whispering so only I can hear.
"You're leaking through your dress, Wanda. I can smell the strawberries from here."
He lets go of my wrist and steps back, addressing the group. "Wanda here is a transfer student. She's still adjusting to the freedom of Hawthorne. Let's help her get comfortable."
He looks at a guy sitting in the front row—a muscular athlete with a buzz cut and a hungry look in his eyes. "Jax, if you would."
Jax stands up with a grin, walking toward me with a confidence that makes me shrink. He doesn't ask for permission. He reaches out and grabs the hem of my dress, bunching the fabric up in his fist and hiking it up to my waist.
I gasp, my hands flying up to cover my chest, but Connor is behind me in an instant. He grabs my wrists and pins them behind my back, his grip like iron.
"Hands where I can see them, Wanda," Connor commands. "You're a resource now. Act like one."
I am completely exposed. My bare ass and dripping pussy are on display for the entire room. I can hear a few people whispering, a few low whistles. The shame is overwhelming, but the vibration of the egg is still humming, pushing me toward an edge I can't escape.
Jax doesn't waste time. He drops to his knees in front of me.
He doesn't go for my pussy first; instead, he reaches up and grabs my breasts through the thin fabric of my dress, squeezing them hard.
He twists my nipples through the cloth, pulling them sharply.
I cry out, my back arching, my chest thrusting forward into his palms.
"Look at her," Jax grunts, his voice thick. "She's absolutely soaking."
He leans forward and buries his face in my crotch. His tongue is huge and rough, lashing across my clit in a wide, wet stroke. I scream, my legs buckling, but Connor holds me upright, his chest pressed against my back, his breath hot on my neck.
"Take it, Wanda," Connor whispers. "Let the community take care of you."
Jax is relentless. He sucks my clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his fingers plunge deep into my pussy, fighting for space with the vibrating egg.
The combination is too much. I'm shaking violently, my breath coming in ragged sobs.
I can feel the eyes of the other students on me—some are touching themselves, some are just watching with clinical intensity.
Suddenly, Jax pulls away, leaving me shivering and exposed. He stands up and unzips his jeans, his cock springing free. It's thick, veiny, and pulsing.
"I want to see if she can handle a real wellness check," Jax says.
He grabs my hips and spins me around, forcing me to bend over the edge of the orientation table.
My face is pressed against the cold wood, my ass shoved high in the air.
I can see my reflection in the polished surface of the table—my flushed face, my wide eyes, and the sight of Jax positioning himself behind me.
He doesn't use lube. He doesn't ease in. He drives his cock into my pussy with one brutal thrust.
I let out a strangled shriek, my forehead slamming against the table. Thump.
"Quiet," Connor's voice booms from behind me. He reaches down and grabs my hair, pulling my head back so I'm forced to look at him. "You don't scream unless I tell you to. You just take it."
Jax begins to fuck me with a savage rhythm.
Every thrust is a hammer blow, slamming my pelvis forward and my head back against the table.
Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound echoes through the quiet room.
I can hear the wet slap of his balls hitting my ass, a rhythmic percussion that marks my descent into total submission.
I'm no longer Wanda the pre-med student. I'm just a hole. A resource. A piece of furniture for Jax to use.
"She's so tight," Jax pants, his hands gripping my waist so hard he's leaving bruises. "It's like she's clamping down on me."
"That's the egg," Connor explains to the room, his voice sounding like a lecture. "The vibration increases blood flow and muscle tension, making the experience more intense for both parties. It's about maximizing the utility of the body."
As Jax continues to rail me, Connor reaches around and finds my clit, grinding his thumb into it with punishing pressure.
I'm caught between two men, being stretched and stimulated from both ends.
The pleasure is so intense it feels like pain.
I start to wail, my voice raw, my body shaking with the force of a coming orgasm.
"Please!" I sob. "Please, I'm going to—!"
"Not yet," Connor commands. He reaches into his pocket and clicks the remote.
The vibration of the egg jumps to its maximum setting. It's no longer a hum; it's a violent roar inside my walls. I scream, my entire body seizing. My pussy clamps down on Jax's cock in a series of violent spasms.
Jax lets out a guttural groan, his pace becoming frantic. He delivers three more powerful thrusts, burying himself deep in my gut, before he lets out a loud shout and fills me with a hot, thick torrent of cum.
I collapse onto the table, my breath coming in shallow gasps, my body still twitching from the orgasm that finally broke through. I can feel the warmth of his seed leaking out of me, mixing with the strawberry lube and the remnants of my own arousal.
Jax pulls out with a wet pop and zips up his pants, looking satisfied. "Good resource," he mutters, patting my ass before walking back to his seat.
Connor lets go of my hair and helps me stand up, though he doesn't let me fix my dress immediately. He looks at the room, his expression neutral.
"That concludes the practical portion of the orientation," Connor announces. "Please remember that the Open Door Policy is in effect 24/7. If you see a door open, you are encouraged to contribute to the wellness of your fellow students."
The meeting breaks up, and the students begin to filter out, many of them giving me lingering, hungry looks as they pass. I stand there, trembling, my dress still hiked up, feeling the heavy weight of Jax's cum dripping down my leg.
Connor steps closer, his eyes dark. He reaches down and clicks the remote again, turning the egg off. The sudden silence inside my body is almost as jarring as the vibration was.
"You did well, Wanda," he says, his voice returning to that smooth, commanding rumble. "But you're still too tense. I think you need some one-on-one tutoring to really understand the expectations of this dorm."
He leans in, his lips brushing my ear. "Meet me in my room in ten minutes. And Wanda?"
"Yes?" I whisper.
"Bring a razor. I think it's time we cleaned up that landing strip. I want you completely smooth for the rest of the floor."
He walks away, leaving me standing in the middle of the common room.
I look down at my dress, then at the door leading back to the hallway.
The terror is still there, but it's being swallowed by a desperate, aching need to be used again.
I don't even think about the pre-med textbooks waiting in my room.
All I can think about is the feeling of being opened up, and the command to be smooth.
I walk back to my room, my gait unsteady. As I pass room 302, I see that Priya has left the door wide open. Through the gap, I can see her lying on her back, her legs spread, with two guys taking turns using her mouth and her ass.
I don't stop. I don't help. I just keep walking toward Connor's room, the scent of strawberries still clinging to my skin, wondering just how much more of myself I'm willing to give away.
When I reach Connor's door, I find it's not propped open with a wedge. It's shut.
I hesitate, my hand hovering over the wood. I remember the rule: open door means free use. A closed door means privacy.
I knock softly.
"Come in," his voice calls out.
I push the door open and step inside. The room is dim, lit only by a few lamps. There's a large desk covered in RA paperwork and a bed with dark sheets. Connor is sitting in a leather chair, his polo shirt off, revealing a chest of hard muscle and a stomach of carved granite.
On the desk, next to a lamp, lies a brand new pack of razors and a bowl of warm water.
"Strip," he commands, not looking up from his clipboard. "Everything. Now."
I don't hesitate. I reach for the straps of my dress and let it slide down my body, pooling at my feet. I stand before him completely naked, my pussy still glistening, my nipples hard from the chill in the room.
"Get on the bed," he says, finally looking at me. His eyes travel over every inch of my skin, lingering on the red marks Jax left on my hips. "On your back. Legs wide."
I obey, climbing onto the bed and spreading my thighs. I feel vulnerable, exposed, and utterly dominated.
Connor stands up and walks toward me, the razor in his hand. He doesn't look at me with affection; he looks at me like a project.
"I told you that you were a resource, Wanda," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "And a good resource is well-maintained."
He dips the razor in the warm water and leans between my legs. As the cold steel touches my skin, I shiver, knowing that this is only the beginning of my education at Hawthorne.