Mallory knew it was a bad idea as soon as she thought of it. She was doing pretty well in Biochem, but not so well that she could afford to skip classes. Even if she could get the notes from Jenna later, which she already knew would entail delicate and highly creative explanations of why she'd missed class in the first place, the lab work was a part of their grade. She was definitely going to lose a few points by missing out, and extra credit only went so far.
On the other hand, Biochemistry was two hours long. That was two solid hours of guaranteed alone time. Two full hours with virtually no chance that Jenna would come back to their dorm room unexpectedly. Two full hours to...Mallory shook her head, as if trying to dislodge the thought physically from her brain. Skipping class would be a big mistake, she told herself, and not just because she needed to keep her GPA up. If Daniel found out, he'd probably get the wrong idea about it. It would encourage him in ways Mallory wasn't quite sure she wanted. Best to just abandon the notion and get on with her day.
But once the idea popped into her head, it wouldn't go away. It argued with her, wearing down her resistance, giving her all the justifications she needed to give in and let go of her responsibilities for a little while. The little voice in the back of her head insinuated itself past her defenses, crumbling away at her dedication to classwork (never very strong to begin with) and suggesting ways to make skipping class sound perfectly reasonable. (Which was, yes, more or less exactly what Daniel said would happen, but Mallory was certain that was an exaggeration.)
Mallory tried to silence that little voice. She really did. But every time she thought she had successfully banished it, she would find herself contemplating strategies to slip away from Jenna before class and make it seem natural, or rehearsing her excuses for later, or planning out ways to clean the room after she...
An hour later, Mallory looked up from a textbook she'd pulled out thirty minutes ago, when her conscience finally gave up the ghost. "Ugh," she said to Jenna, trying to keep her voice light and natural. "I don't think I got enough sleep for this. I just keep staring at the pages." That was actually true, but not for the reasons she was trying to make Jenna believe to be the case.
She slammed the book shut and stood up. "There's still forty minutes before class," she said, grabbing her purse. "I'm going to go grab a coffee and meet you there. You want anything?" She knew that Jenna would say no-she hated coffee-but Mallory made the offer anyway. It was the friendly thing to do. Plus, it made her claim that she was heading straight to class afterward sound more convincing.
"Nah, I'm good," Jenna said without looking up from her laptop. She waggled the energy drink in her hand. "You have fun caffeinating yourself, I'll see you in Biochem."
Mallory gave a hearty, "Will do!" that she desperately hoped didn't sound over-deliberate, and slipped out of the room before she gave herself away with nervous babble. She headed to the coffee shop down the street and grabbed a cappuccino, nursing it for a careful forty-five minutes before heading back to the dormitory. She tried to spend the time planning out her excuses to Jenna ("the headache came on just as I was cleaning the coffee stain out of my shirt...") and studying the chapters they were going to cover, but it was no good. She kept thinking about the letter. And about the way that the letter told her she was going to keep thinking about the letter.
By the time Mallory got back to her dorm room, her panties were already a mess. She kicked off her jeans, noting as she did so that there was a tiny damp patch over the crotch where her arousal had soaked through, and shucked her shirt over her head to join the pile of clothes. She left the panties on, though. Daniel had always said that he liked watching her pull them aside when she played with herself.
Not that Mallory necessarily had to do everything Daniel said, of course. She liked to pretend she did sometimes, because, well...she lay down on the bed and rubbed herself through the crotch of her panties, feeling the fabric cling to her labia. Because it made her pussy do this. But that didn't mean he was really in control. She was always in control. When she submitted, it was just because she wanted to. That was all.
And right now, she wanted to submit. Daniel wasn't online, of course-it was two o'clock in the morning in Brisbane. But Mallory had a little something he'd left her as a special reminder of just how hot he made her. She grabbed her phone and opened up her email, scrolling down to a header that said, 'A Special Message Just For You And You Alone'. With slightly trembling fingers, she opened it.
Hello my pretty little pussy,
she read.
