It's been ten days and Jordan was dying to come. The arousal was persistent, crawling all over his body, concentrated in his cock which seemed semi-erect most of the time and which became achingly, almost painfully hard with the slightest stimulation. He hadn't been able to focus properly for the last few days, his thoughts veering off towards sexual images and ideas. It was late now, and he knew he shouldn't really be watching any porn because it would make his torment even harder to bear. He felt like an over-sexed, perverted zombie and he hated it as much as he loved it.
On his computer screen, two young women dressed in low-cut tops and short skirts revealing the shape of their perfect butts were laughing and spitting at a naked man, kneeling on the floor on all fours and licking a puddle of disgusting looking matter from the stone tiles.
He groaned and reached to his cock, now throbbing. It felt hot and rock-hard in his hand, and each stroke he gave himself slowly, carefully, making sure that he doesn't get to the point of no return, made him shake and moan a little. He needed to cum so badly he felt he'd go crazy if he wasn't allowed a release soon.
He looked at his phone again, pointlessly really because it wasn't set to silent and he knew he would hear it if a message arrived. He knew it wasn't very likely because Mistress was almost certainly asleep at this hour in her time zone, and she'd said she'd be busy in general.
'I need to cum so bad Mistresz. Please please let me earn an orgasm. I'll do anything.' He typed in anyway, hands shaking. Even doing that made him feel more horny. The humiliation of asking - of begging - of having to ask even though there was nothing real, apart from his own twisted desires, that forced him to do it.
He remembered her saying this to him 'It's not a power I have over you, pet. It's a power you gave me because you are a deviant little whore who can't keep his filthy fingers off his pathetic dick and needs someone to control him. Because once I do say 'yes' you come so hard, don't you, pet? You'll never get rid of this thing. It's not me that you are addicted to, it's your own kink that owns you. So better admit it, and we get on just fine.'
He did. He'd admitted this, and more, in writing and on tape. He'd put a poster up on the college notice board which listed some of his most shameful actions. He'd recorded himself, hard and leaking cock in hand, saying these things, and she'd posted them on a porn site, out there for he whole world to hear and see.
In the last of days he got hard in every place on campus in which she made him do degrading things. The toilet stall whose walls he'd licked. The notice board where the poster went up. Another bathroom in which she'd made him sit with a pair of lacy red panties round his ankles until other people came, went and commented on his predicament. The social room in the dorm where he'd rubbed his cock and ass against pieces of furniture like a pathetic dog. The classroom in which he'd sat with a growing erection, while she sent him photos of her leather-clad pussy and snippets of text designed to make him squirm.
There was a part of his mind that was aware of the absurdity of the whole situation. There was nothing that was really stopping him from jerking off. She didn't need to know, he thought, his hand gripping his dick. There was a lot of precum, drying stickily on his fingers. His balls felt tight and heavy at the same time, and his ass was clenching. And yet he couldn't do it.
He got up and reached for one of his buttplugs, the biggest one. Lubed it up and started working it into his ass. It felt agonisingly pleasurable, the waves of arousal verging on unbearable. He slapped his cock hard, thinking of how she'd like that - she always liked him to hurt himself. That didn't really work, so he slapped his balls, so hard that he cried out, which helped a bit to distract him from the desperate state of his cock. The plug went in, all the six inches of it and he rocked on it, his ass stretched and filled, his prostate a hot kernel of pleasure, his cock close to bursting.
His phone pinged then.
He left the plug in and picked the phone up.
'Sounding a bit desperate, huh? Been watching too much porn? I have news for you, pet. Do you want to play for real?'
Jordan didn't know what she meant, but he typed back, his hands shaking.
'yes please mistress'
The reply came almost immediately.
'Let's just go through your limits then. Nothing illegal, no blood, no scat, no bi, no friends and family, no cum eating, no permanent damage or marks. Anything else is go, yes?'
He felt dizzy, and even more horny than before.
'yes, mistress'
This time she took a bit longer to reply, and the message that came through was longer too.
'Get your sissy gear on. The sluttiest panties, the hold-ups and plug your ass with the medium plug. Dress normally on top. Sweatpants and trainers or something like that will do. Bring money, cards, car key, phone. There is a triangular patch of grass at the back of the campus arts centre, with a lamppost in the middle, by a low wall. Be there in 30 minutes and wait for instructions.'
It was odd. It seemed wrong. The time was wrong, it was after 1am. And what was the car key and money stuff about? He didn't know, but he was too horny, too worked up to think too long about any of that. All he could focus on was the aching need for release that brought with it an overwhelming desire to do anything she told him to, to humiliate and degrade himself, to be exposed for everybody to laugh at and insult, to do anything, anything at all for this woman who pulled his strings form thousands of miles away.
He dressed like she told him to and walked out of his room, his cock with what now seemed like a permanent, leaky hard-on, his ass filled, a bit uncomfortably but also pleasurably, with the slightly smaller buttplug, the lacy red thong digging into his buttcrack, the hold-ups alien and tantalising under his sweats. There weren't many people around on the weekday night, though it wasn't completely empty yet and the short walk to the location she specified made him even more intensely aware of his ridiculous state.
His phone pinged again when he approached the site she specified, two minutes before prescribed time.
'Check the lamppost. Use what you find, then kneel by the post, facing the building. Wait for instructions.'
His heart started beating really fast. He didn't understand any of this. She was in England... how was it possible to be anything for him to use here, five minutes walk from the fraternity house he lived in? Did she find an accomplice? Someone that knew him, here on campus? Or one of her other playthings? He shivered at the thought and looked around him. There was nobody there, apart from a quickly walking couple, busy chatting, on the other side of the street.
The patch of grass at the back of the arts centre was empty. There was something tied to the lamppost, about four feet from the ground. He approached it with trepidation. It was a piece of dark, soft material, velvety to touch. He wondered what it was and what to do, then decided that she must have intended for him to use it as a blindfold. He looked around himself again, then untied it and slowly brought to his face. It smelled nice, a warm, spicy, flowery scent of perfume mixed with a faint smell of cigarettes. He looked around himself and wondered what would happen if anybody saw him, his mind grasping for possible excuses and explanations.
His heart was racing, and his cock was fully erect, straining against the thong and making a painfully obvious bulge in his sweatpants. It felt like his will was taken away from him. His hands felt controlled, not his anymore. They tied the scarf around his head and he dropped to his knees on the damp grass, like a puppet controlled from a distance by a power that won't be denied.
He felt like peeking out and checking but then he thought of Mistress telling him what a good bitch he was for being so obedient to her commands and decided against it. A panicky thought of someone that knew him passing by and questioning him entered Jordan's mind. His cock twitched at that and he groaned, ashamed at how hot this idea seemed to him, and turned on even more by that shame.
He kneeled there. And kneeled there. And kneeled there. He started to imagine people passing by. He was sure he could hear footsteps, and questioning comments being made. Female voices and laughter. He was getting cold in the night air, and uncomfortable, his knees sore and his cock getting softer.
After what was probably less than ten minutes but felt like hours he heard footsteps on the pavement. He was sure now that these were real. Then a voice.
'And look what we have here. A cute little bitch, obediently waiting on display. And what am I supposed to do with you now, pet?'
Fuck it's her, Jordan thought. It's her. She's here, feet away from me, here, on campus. Strange accent, not really British or anything Jordan could recognised. Low, slightly hoarse, a bit breathy voice. A break, as if to take a drag on a cigarette, and a smell of smoke in the air.
'Stay where you are and take the blindfold off.'
He did, with shaking hands, his breath fast and shallow, then slowly looked around. She was sitting on the low wall next to the patch of grass, legs crossed, her left arm across her knees, her right elbow supported by the left hand, leaning forward, smoking a cigarette. Pale blond hair, looking almost silver in the dark, falling to her shoulders from under black fedora hat, a longish coat that looked like black leather, spread over the wall, a dark knee length skirt and just-under-knee boots with low heels, the toe of the right one pointing at him. He couldn't see her face.
'Surprised, pet?'
The reality of what was happening had not yet hit him, but he couldn't speak. He tried to say 'yes' but what came out was more like a croak.
'I came for an interview.'
'What?' Jordan groaned.
'I came for an interview. If I'm offered the job, I'll be teaching research methods to undergraduates here soon. And considering that sexual relations between staff and students are frowned upon nowadays, I thought that it'd be fun to make our last play session more... real, let's say. '
She was laughing now, not even in a particularly menacing way, more like in some private amusement.
'Cmon, then, bitchboy,' the tip of her boot flicked up, as if to beckon him.
'Pull your pants down so anybody who happens to pass can admire your pretty lingerie. Not that it's very likely at this time of the night. But who knows. Who knows. And crawl here to pay your respects. Head down, ass up like a good little submissive whore.'
Jordan's cock was painfully hard again. He did as told. There seemed to be no choice at all any more. The elastic of his pants constrained his movement and slowed him down when he crawled on all fours across the damp grass towards her, kneeling just before her, her boot by his face.
She flicked it again, not quite kicking his mouth but not too far off that. He kissed the top first, dust and leather coating his lips with the flavour of his humiliation.
'Do some licking, pet. Make your bitch tongue useful.'
He obeyed, his tongue getting dry in the process. By the time she moved her foot to expose the sole, he was dying to wash his mouth out, disgusted with his own behaviour, unable to stop, thinking only of how much he wanted to touch himself.
