This is a work of erotic fiction. None of the events described here have ever happened. Although I encourage readers to give me feedback both positive and negative, nasty anonymous comments are not appreciated.
If you have not read chapters one through seven, I strongly recommend that you do. This chapter will make more sense if you do.
I would be remiss if I did not thank my co-author. She spent countless hours reading, writing, and editing this series. It would not have been possible to write it without her help.
All references to Gor and things Gorean refer to the works of John Norman. These references are related back to Jennifer's first exposure to BDSM and how it shaped her current fantasies.
Her dreams were haunted by vibrators and cocks, by orgasms denied, and by Duane. Duane taking her virginity. Duane pushing his hard cock deep into her pussy. Duane fucking her ruthlessly. Duane....
When she woke she cried from frustration. She couldn't touch herself. Couldn't make herself cum, and Duane was making her wait until tonight.
Jennifer knew she had to shower, and that there was very little chance she could avoid Stephanie. In her dreams, she knew what she would tell her roomie, but now that she was awake, it seemed like such a lame explanation.
As she headed to the bathroom, she called out to her friend, "Hi Steph, gonna take a shower. You good?"
"Hey, babe, yeah, you got in late again last night," Stephanie responded from the kitchen.
"Yeah, I'll tell you all about it in a few."
"Lemme take a rain check on that. I have to leave earlier today. Problem needs to be solved with my advisor. On my way out, later!"
Too good to be true, thought Jennifer. Way too good.
Jennifer checked the mirror, only to look away. She did not know the person looking back. Everything was metal, metal that reminded her of her youth, metal that first led her to masturbate, to cum and cum again. What was it about the metal?
After a couple of days, she was used to the hair and earrings. Even the collar was feeling natural. But what Duane did to her last night was shocking.
The earrings! She removed the SLUT rings and replaced them with the S S dangles, one at a time.
Her nipples were not just sensitive. They ached. The badge on her left nipple hung heavily, and stretched her tender bud. The bars ensured that each nipple was erect and hard, pleading for attention.
And the belt, the chastity belt. Locked on her body, imprisoning her sex. She tried everything to squeeze by its defenses, but only water would pass through. She even tried a thin ruler, in an attempt to stimulate herself and satisfy her need. It only made her more desperate and more depressed.
As she dried herself, she thought of Ben. For a hand job, she could probably get out of the belt. But what if he demanded more. He might ask her to strip completely, thereby revealing the nipple shield and bars.
And to what end? Duane seemed to know everything and certainly every disobedience. He was right. She had to obey.
She wore a loose blouse that would not accentuate her nipples, and a conservative skirt which would easily hide the belt. The collar and earrings, well, everyone had already seen them.
Her luck held. In fact, she was swimming in good fortune. No confrontation with Steph and another day without running into Ben. This had all the makings of a good day.
The moment she stepped into her first class, she knew it would be difficult. Doug turned in his seat to wave at her, and several students turned to look. She smiled brightly and moved to the seat he had saved.
"Hey, Jenn," he greeted her. "We still good for dinner and study this evening."
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she answered, showing as much despair as possible. "I totally forgot and booked a shoot for later this afternoon, and there is no way to know when it ends. I'm so sorry." And she really was. And she noticed that he had seen her tongue stud.
"I understand. Well, you have my number, so if you finish early, please call." He was clearly disappointed. "And I like your tongue piercing."
"Thanks, and I will call, but don't count on it." No, don't count on it at all, she thought. Her appointments with Duane and his crew had become part of her daily routine. And her classes had taken a dive.
The arrival of the prof interrupted their conversation, and the class dragged. She had no idea what he was talking about, having not studied one minute all week. A wave of depression washed over her.
Throughout the lesson she was aware of Doug taking copious notes. She just doodled, her mind on her nipples and her ever-rising need to cum. She wiggled in her chair, but noticed a slight clinking sound, as the chastity belt made contact with the back of the chair. She had to be careful, so careful.
Her mind wandered to the professor that Duane had introduced into her continuing debasement. She shook the cobwebs from her mind, noting her real prof was giving details about the midterm next week. She took a peek at Doug's notes, and tried to keep up. Much of what was mentioned she recalled, but only vaguely, as though it had been taught long ago. She wanted to cry.
Class ended and Doug said his good-bye. Jennifer acknowledged several other students, doing her best to be friendly and like her old self. She almost reached the back of the lecture hall when she felt her phone vibrate. A text. Her heart rate increased immediately.
"slut.
12 Noon.
Lunch provided.
Skip your last class
Master D"
Her heart sank. He had never taken her from a class, but what difference did that make. He had not allowed her to study, so whether she attended the class or not hardly mattered.
She tapped her tongue stud on her teeth; she tossed her hair, causing the S's to contact her neck above the collar. She pulled back her shoulders, so that her blouse would touch her nipples. And she felt her imprisoned pussy groan in need.
