Madison stepped into the office and looked up at Dean Morris.
"Madison, have a seat. I - I'm sure you have an idea why you're here," said the Dean of Students.
Madison sat down. She tried her best to close her legs and ensure her freshly-shaven pussy was not visible under her skirt. It was an incredibly short skirt, one that barely covered her ass when she stood, and of course, she wasn't wearing panties. "I mean - I could guess," she admitted.
Looking down, Madison looked at her cleavage, on full display in her deep plunge top. It was cropped just a couple inches below her breasts, exposing most of her midriff. At least she didn't have any visible writing today, she thought.
Sure, she could guess - but which 'problem' did the Dean want to address? Her constant skimpy outfits? Her flashing in class? The videos of her circulating the internet? The almost daily exposure of "slut" or some variation of "slut" on her body, written in marker? How could she know?
"Okay, then," said the Dean. "Why are you here?"
"Actually -" Madison said, not wanting to inform the Dean of anything he didn't already know about. "Could you just tell me?"
Madison thought back to the email she received from the dean, asking to meet with her that day.
"Dear Madison," it began. "There have been some things that have come to my attention that I would like to discuss with you. Please stop by my office for a brief discussion after your 2:00 class tomorrow."
She knew it had to be something sexual, of course. What else? Her grades were fine, and the Dean of Students usually only got involved when there was a behavioral problem rather than a purely academic one. Still, she wondered which particular aspect of her sexual misbehavior he wanted to discuss.
"Well, Madison - it's come to my attention that - well, it's your online presence, Madison. I understand there are videos of you circulating the internet. Are you aware of those videos?"
Of course, she was. Madison actually felt a little relieved. She didn't think she could get into too much trouble with the school just because she had decided to degrade and humiliate herself online.
"Which videos?" Madison asked naively. Again, she was just trying not to divulge too much.
"Well - there's videos of you in a gangbang, having sex with a stranger, naked in the park in the snow, getting slapped - assaulted and physically abused - in an alley, and worst of all, Madison, there are videos of you begging for your life to be ruined, to be exposed, so you can never take it back. And attaching your name to everything. So everyone knows it's you!"
"Y-yes," she said, nodding. "That's me." She looked at the floor and crossed her legs.
"And that's in addition to you - I mean look at your outfit, Madison. I'm about to get real with you - real honest. You look - at best - like a freshman girl who's been sheltered her whole life and now has a whiff of freedom, going wild, exposing her body, fucking anything that moves. At worst? You look like a cheap street hooker!"
When Dean Morris spoke, it was obvious he wasn't from Illinois, or anywhere in the Midwest or the northeast for that matter. He had a slow, deliberate southern drawl and animated features. He was a rotund man of about sixty-five. And he was a nice man. But he was not going to be nice to Madison.
"Yeah, I mean, I know -"
"Madison, everybody in this school thinks you're a slut, or you've lost your mind. Based on what I've heard, I wonder if you even own a respectable outfit, showing your stomach, and your breasts, and your legs every time you walk in here. You should be ashamed of yourself, puttin' your body on display like that!"
Madison sobbed. She was ashamed, of course. Ashamed she had let it get this far, ashamed of her videos and her reputation, ashamed that she enjoyed being known as a slut, a set of holes. But the shame that was building inside her, as it always did, just led her to a state of arousal. A state where she, though she was ashamed, craved more - craved for those feelings of embarrassment and shame to continue. And where she would act out in order to get what she wanted.
"I don't," she sobbed. "I don't own anything respectable!"
"Madison! Why - why would you -"
"Didn't you see the video?! I'm forcing myself to look like a slut!"
"Forcing yourself?"
"I get up in the morning. I go to my closet. And every top I own is cropped. Every skirt, every pair of shorts is too short. It's all I can wear! And I did it so - so even on days when I don't want - want - you know - to be - to feel humiliated, I - I don't have a choice!"
"Madison," said the Dean, shaking his head. "Well how - how does that explain you flashing your breasts, your - well, flashing everything - writing slut on yourself -"
"Those are the days I really crave it," she explained.
"Crave it?"
"Humiliation," she said softly. "The more - I guess the more I get, the more I want. The more I want, I get - like - turned on - I do it to myself."
"Madison, look - the reason I called you in here - I mean, you've got to stop all of that stuff. Do you understand? People are starting to talk. Hell, they've been talking."