Chapter Five
The morning light filtering through the blinds of my dorm room feels like a spotlight on my shame—and my anticipation.
I wake up with my body feeling heavy and used, a dull ache residing in my hips and a lingering tightness in my ass that reminds me of the "communal testing" from the night before. I reach up, my fingers brushing the cool, unyielding metal of the silver collar. It’s the first thing I feel every morning now, a physical anchor that ties me to Connor’s will.
I dress with a trembling precision. I choose a high-necked, oversized cream sweater and a thick wool scarf, wrapping it tightly around my throat to hide the collar.
I’m following Connor’s instructions to the letter, but the secret of the metal against my skin makes the fabric feel like a tease.
Underneath, I wear a short, pleated skirt and no panties.
I want to feel the air on my shaved skin; I want to feel the vulnerability of being open and ready, even in a lecture hall full of people.
As I leave the room, I pause at the door.
I look back at the open space, the threshold that signals my availability to anyone who wanders by.
I feel a surge of vertigo, a dizzying realization that I have completely surrendered my privacy.
I am no longer a student who happens to live here; I am a piece of furniture, a utility, a resource.
The walk to the lecture hall is a blur of anxiety.
Every time a male student glances my way, I wonder if he smells the vanilla and musk of Connor’s gold lube, or if he can sense the void between my legs.
I feel like I’m radiating a scent of submission that only the predators of Hawthorne Hall can detect.
The lecture is a haze. I sit in the back row, my legs crossed tightly, trying to focus on the professor's voice while my mind replays the feeling of Elias’s cock hitting the back of my throat.
I find myself sliding my hand under my skirt, my fingers grazing my clit, which is still hypersensitive from Maya’s brutal attention.
I moan softly, the sound lost in the drone of the lecture, and I quickly pull my hand away, terrified that someone will notice.
When the bell finally rings, I don't head back to the dorm. I head toward the faculty wing.
Professor Sterling’s office is at the end of a long, sterile corridor.
The air here smells of old paper and expensive perfume.
When I reach the heavy mahogany door, I hesitate.
The power dynamic in the dorm is one thing—Connor is an RA, a peer with authority—but Sterling is a Professor.
She represents the academic world I came here to join, yet she had looked at my collar with the eyes of a collector.
I knock softly.
"Come in," her voice calls out, crisp and commanding.
I step inside and close the door behind me.
The office is opulent, filled with leather-bound books and a massive oak desk.
Professor Sterling is sitting behind it, her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, looking every bit the professional.
But as I approach, her gaze doesn't go to my face. It goes straight to my neck.
"Remove the scarf, Wanda," she orders.
I obey instantly, unwinding the wool and letting it fall to the floor. The silver collar glints under the fluorescent lights. Sterling leans back in her chair, a predatory smile curling her lips.
"Connor mentioned you were a fast learner. He said you’ve already been processed and that your reactivity is... exceptional."
"Yes, Professor," I whisper, my voice shaking.
"Stand on the desk," she commands.
I blink, stunned. "What?"
"Did I stutter, Wanda? Get on the desk. Now."
I scramble upward, my skirt riding up as I climb onto the polished wood. I stand there, exposed and trembling, overlooking her. From this height, I feel even more like an object on display.
"The 'extra credit' I mentioned involves a study on the psychological effects of total submission in a high-stress academic environment," she says, her voice clinical yet dripping with lust. "To truly understand the data, I need to see how a resource handles a shift in authority.
Connor owns your body in the dorm, but in this building, you belong to the faculty. "
She stands up and walks around the desk. She doesn't touch me at first; she just circles me, her eyes scanning my body like she’s inspecting a piece of livestock.
"Strip," she says.
I peel off the sweater and the skirt, leaving me standing completely naked on the mahogany surface. The cool air hits my shaved mound, and I shiver. I feel the gaze of her eyes on my nipples, which are already hard.
"You're beautifully prepped," she notes. She reaches into a drawer and pulls out a bottle of lube. This one is different—it’s a deep, shimmering crimson, and it smells like cinnamon and cloves.
"This is my signature. When you wear this, everyone in the faculty lounge knows you've been 'tutored' by me. "
She doesn't use her hands. She pours a generous amount of the red lube onto the desk, creating a slick pool beneath my feet. Then, she reaches up and grabs my hair, pulling my head back with a sharp jerk.
"Kneel," she commands.
I drop to my knees in the red slime, the cinnamon scent filling my nostrils. Sterling reaches down and grabs my jaw, forcing me to look at her.
"I don't want your mouth yet. I want to see how you handle a toy while you're trying to maintain a professional demeanor."
She reaches into her desk and produces a remote-controlled vibrator—a heavy, egg-shaped device. Without warning, she shoves it deep into my pussy. I gasp, my back arching as the cold silicone fills me. She then clicks the remote, and the device erupts into a violent, pulsing vibration.
"Now," she says, stepping back. "I am going to give you a reading assignment.
You will stand there, naked and vibrating, and you will recite the first three paragraphs of the syllabus for Advanced Political Theory.
If you moan, if you shake too much, or if you lose your place, I will increase the intensity. "
I stand up, my legs shaking, the red lube making me slip slightly on the desk. I try to focus on the paper she holds up, but the vibration is relentless. It’s not like the massager Priya used; this is a deep, thrumming pulse that hits my G-spot with every beat.
"The... the primary objective of this course..." I start, my voice trembling.
Buzz.
She clicks the remote, and the intensity jumps. I let out a sharp gasp, my thighs clamping together.
"That was a moan, Wanda. Start over."
I start again, my voice cracking. I can feel the red lube dripping down my inner thighs, mixing with the natural wetness that is flooding my pussy. I am fighting a war between my mind and my body. My brain is trying to recite academic theory, but my pussy is screaming for release.
"The primary objective... of this course is to analyze the... ah... the structural foundations of..."
Buzz.
She cranks it to the maximum setting. I collapse onto the desk, my chest heaving, my pussy practically vibrating out of my body. I can't speak. I can only sob, my fingers clawing at the polished wood.
"Pathetic," Sterling whispers, though her voice is thick with arousal. "You're so easily broken. I wonder if Connor knows how little discipline you actually have."
She reaches down and grabs the remote, turning the device off abruptly. The sudden silence in my nerves is almost as painful as the vibration. I lay there, panting, covered in red lube and my own juices.
"Since you failed the oral exam, we'll move to the practical," she says.
She walks behind me and pushes me forward, forcing my face down onto the desk. She grabs my hips and hauls my ass up into the air. I feel the cold air on my backside, and then, I feel her fingers. She doesn't use the lube on her fingers; she uses the red slime already coating my skin.
She slides two fingers into my ass, stretching the opening that Connor had already primed. I moan into the wood of the desk, the scent of cinnamon and mahogany filling my senses.
"You're so wide open," she muses. "Connor really did the hard work for me. He's left you like a vacant lot, just waiting for someone to build something on it."
She pulls her fingers out and replaces them with a thick, ribbed dildo made of hard glass. It’s cold, and as she shoves it deep into my rectum, I scream. The glass stretches me to my absolute limit, hitting the sensitive spot.
"Hold it," she commands. "Don't let it slip out."
She leaves the dildo inside me and walks back to the front of the desk. She unzips her slacks, revealing that she's wearing a lace thong that is completely soaked through. She doesn't take it off; she just pulls it to the side, exposing her clit.
"Now, Wanda. Use your tongue. I want to feel how much you want this extra credit."
I crawl toward her, the glass dildo shifting inside my ass with every movement, creating a friction that makes me dizzy. I reach her and dive in, my tongue flicking against her clit with a desperate hunger. I want to please her. I want her to tell me I'm a good resource.
As I suck on her, she reaches down and grabs the base of the glass dildo, pumping it in and out of my ass in a rhythmic, punishing motion. The combination of the vaginal emptiness, the anal fullness, and the taste of her arousal sends me over the edge.
I start to climax, my pussy pulsing around the empty air, my ass clamping down on the glass. I moan loudly, my tongue never leaving her clit, until I'm shaking with a violent, full-body orgasm.
Sterling lets out a sharp cry, her hips bucking as she peaks. She pushes me away, breathing hard.
"Adequate," she says, though her eyes are glazed. "You may leave. But remember, Wanda, the collar doesn't just belong to Connor. It belongs to the institution. You are a resource for all of us."
She reaches over and pulls the glass dildo out of me with a wet, sliding sound. I slump onto the floor, my body feeling like jelly.
"Clean yourself up. And Wanda?"
I look up at her.
"I've updated your file. You're now on a 'specialized track.' Expect more visits from the faculty."
I dress in a daze, the red lube staining my white sweater, a permanent mark of my "tutoring." As I walk back to the dorm, I feel a new layer of ownership settling over me. Connor had broken me, but Professor Sterling had codified it.
When I enter the dorm, I see Connor standing in the hallway. He looks at the red stain on my sweater and the vacant look in my eyes. He doesn't ask what happened; he knows. He just smiles, a dark, satisfied expression.
"I see you've met the faculty," he says, his voice a low rumble.
"Yes," I whisper.
He reaches out and grabs my collar, pulling me close until our noses are touching. "Good. I was wondering when Sterling would take an interest in you. Now you're truly integrated. You're not just a dorm toy anymore, Wanda. You're a campus asset."
He leans in and whispers in my ear, "Now, go to your room. Leave the door open. I've told the varsity swim team that the new resource is feeling... particularly receptive tonight."
I shiver, a mixture of terror and raw, unadulterated lust coursing through me. I turn and walk into my room, leaving the door wide open, waiting for the flood.