It was 5pm on another warm sultry afternoon.
Virginia was enjoying the heat. The way it somehow made her feel more alive. There were lots of things to be done, of course. There always were. But the warmth both quickened her pulse and relaxed her. The evening stretched out before Virginia, long and languid. It felt like a blessing.
Then her anklet tightened.
It was almost imperceptible. No one would have noticed, looking at it. But they'd have seen the frown that followed, might have wondered about the bit lip. And the cursing that ensued.
Virginia was no longer at ease. As soon as she'd registered the touch in her ankle, blood rushed through her. The pattern was familiar by now. The well known fingerprints of desire. Her pussy clenched, breath quickened, nipples hardened, time slowed further while thoughts sped.
This was what it was like to be a Toy. Infuriating. Consuming. Intoxicating. Tantalising. So very frustrating.
***
Virginia had agreed to it of course. Lost a foolish bet about drinking prowess, distracted, even then by the possibility. And even then, she could have pulled out. The Professor could be stern, diabolical, cruel even. But she knew that he wanted her to be a willing subject. That he'd unbind her if she requested. But she never had asked for such a release.
Sometimes Virginia told herself that it was a matter of honour. She'd entered into the bet, known what it entailed. Other times she'd wondered if she'd lost on purpose. Sabotaged herself, drinking too quickly, too excited by the fevered risqué images rushing through her mind.
To ask for it all to stop would be to fail. An admission of weakness. A humiliation not to be countenanced.
Virginia was strong. The Professor was yet to break her. Or, at least, he was yet to fully break her. The bastard made things very hard at times. But she'd pulled through, surviving each ordeal. She had not failed. And never would.
Or so Virginia reminded herself as the initial haze heralded by the anklet tightening, began to lift.
She tried to move slowly to the next part. Tried not to just grab her phone. Or to to let the tremor in her fingers show as she opened her emails. But she needed to know what it was this time. Needed to know... had to know... dreaded to know... how long it was going to last this time...
This was how it worked. The rules were exasperatingly simple. When the Professor was wrestling with a major task, His Toy suffered. He'd send her an email with a particular title that triggered the anklet he'd sent her. The anklet binding her to him.
(The inside of the anklet even stated, 'Property of the Professor', though Virginia had to use a magnifying glass to make it out - and she still remembered the shameful thrill that had rippled through her when she'd first read that inscription, before blushing, and slowly putting it on.)
Each message was short. The task he had to complete was named, along with the amount of time he expected the task to take.
Sometimes Virginia hated the next bit the most. She had to write back that the Professor's Toy had received his message, wished him all the best with it, and awaited news of its completion.
