Wonderful chapter. It will be interesting to see how she handles her incognito web fame or will she really be incognito? Looking forward to more.
Hooked6
The Unraveling (New 11/23)
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Darky
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Re: The Unraveling (New 11/17)
What does it matter. In the whole ride of the story Riley has been seen by so many people that almost every birthmark is known by so many people.
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Hooked6
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Re: The Unraveling (New 11/17)
Ah well it is true she has been seen by several students in person and the college's nearby surroundings, there is a HUGE difference between that and being seen and identified all over the Internet. Her parents, family friends and relatives - people back home - could easily stumble upon her either on this website or by others lifting photos and clips from there and sending all over the place. That thought along would be terrifying. Once on the Internet you live there forever.
I think the author is doing a great job keeping the suspense going for Riley.
Hooked6
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Darky
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Re: The Unraveling (New 11/17)
Oh i absolutely agree with you. But given Riley’s background there will be a lot of people paying who aren’t relatives but co-students. I never said Emily didn’t do a great job. And I guess the girls will provide a way to not download the content to generate as much money as possibleHooked6 wrote: ↑Mon Nov 18, 2024 6:15 pmAh well it is true she has been seen by several students in person and the college's nearby surroundings, there is a HUGE difference between that and being seen and identified all over the Internet. Her parents, family friends and relatives - people back home - could easily stumble upon her either on this website or by others lifting photos and clips from there and sending all over the place. That thought along would be terrifying. Once on the Internet you live there forever.
I think the author is doing a great job keeping the suspense going for Riley.
Hooked6
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Emily
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Chapter 45
The next morning dawned too early, the sun's rays piercing through the curtains and painting stripes across the floor. Riley's eyes snapped open, her body tense and alert as the events of the night came flooding back to her. The memory of the cold finger in her ass, the taste of Rachel's pussy, the sound of the camera shutter, all of it rushing over her like a tidal wave. She groaned, burying her face in the pillow to muffle the sound.
Her skin felt sticky and clammy, the residue of the night's humiliation still clinging to her. She sat up, the cool air hitting her naked body like a slap, the sheets pooling around her waist. The room was eerily silent, the only sound her own ragged breathing and the distant murmur of the college outside.
With trembling hands, she reached for her phone, the screen glowing like a beacon in the dark. The notifications blinked at her, a reminder of the world waiting outside her door. Her stomach clenched as she saw Aria's name at the top of the list. She swiped open the message with a mix of dread and anticipation.
*Art class is today at 3:30 in room F11. Make sure to be early. You know what's expected.*
The message from Aria burned in Riley's mind as she stared at the clock. An hour before her first class—just enough time to get one of her masturbation sessions over with. The thought of the coming day filled her with a mix of dread and anticipation. Ellie had already left for the day, no doubt off to her own classes with a smug grin plastered on her face, leaving Riley alone with her thoughts and the looming specter of the next challenge.
With a resigned sigh, Riley leaned her phone up against the edge of her desk, the screen reflecting the stark light of the room. She positioned herself in front of it, her legs spread wide, the cool air of the room kissing her exposed pussy. She felt a strange mix of arousal and fear as she began to rub her clit, the camera's eye watching her every move. Her hand was unsteady, her breath coming in short gasps as she built the pressure, her eyes locked on the lens as if it were a lover's gaze.
Her fingers grew slick with her juices, the wet sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and she felt the familiar tightness in her chest that came from being watched. Her breasts bobbed gently with the rhythm of her movements, her nipples hardening to tight little peaks. Her eyes grew hazy, the room spinning slightly as the tension grew, her body straining towards the release that was just out of reach.
Her legs shook, the muscles in her thighs tightening as she approached the edge again. Her breath grew ragged, her hips bucking slightly as she chased the feeling. Her pussy was swollen and sensitive, the touch of her own hand sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. She bit her bottom lip, the sting of pain adding to the symphony of sensations. Her eyes never left the camera, the lens a silent judge to her depravity.
But just as she felt the orgasm building, the sweet promise of release, she stopped. Her hand hovered just above her clit, her breathing erratic. The room was a sea of tension, the air thick with her need. She knew that if she went further, if she let herself climax, she would be breaking the rules. The thought of their disappointment, of the punishment that would surely follow, was like a bucket of ice water thrown on her passion.
Her hand trembled as she picked up her phone, the camera still running, capturing every moment of her torment. She hit the stop button, the screen going black for a brief, silent second before coming to life with a soft beep. The evidence of her obedience was there, a silent testament to her submission. She swiped through to the camera roll, the image of her naked, aroused body staring back at her. With trembling fingers, she attached the video to a group chat with Ellie, Aria, and Claire and hit send.
A moment later, her phone vibrated with a notification. A text from Ellie, a single word: "Good." The brevity of the message sent a thrill of fear through her. It wasn't approval, but it wasn't disapproval either. It was a cold, calculated acknowledgment of her compliance.
Riley took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. She walked over to her dresser, the cold wood a stark contrast to the warmth of her skin. She opened the top drawer, her eyes landing on the small makeup bag she had shoved to the back. It was a rare indulgence, something she usually reserved for special occasions or when she was feeling particularly low and needed a boost of confidence.
Her hand hovered over the bag for a moment before she finally picked it up, the weight of it feeling heavier than usual. She sat down on the edge of her bed, her legs crossed as she pulled out the contents. The makeup spilled out, a kaleidoscope of colors and textures that promised to transform her into someone else. Someone who wasn't a 'virgin slut', someone who could walk into that art class with her head held high.
With a shaky hand, she applied a thin layer of foundation, blending it into her skin until it was almost imperceptible. She added a touch of blush to her cheeks, the color a soft pink that mimicked the natural flush she got when she was aroused. Her eyes she lined with a dark pencil, winging it out slightly for a sultry look that made her feel bolder. A swipe of mascara made her lashes look fuller, her eyes seemingly larger and more alluring.
The rest of her makeup was minimal, just enough to enhance her features without looking like she was trying too hard. A bit of lip gloss to make her lips shine and a hint of highlighter on her cheekbones to add a touch of glow. It was a look that said she knew she was desirable, but didn't need to shout it from the rooftops. It was the kind of makeup that made you do a double take, wondering if she was naturally that beautiful or if she had a secret weapon hidden in her makeup bag.
With a final look in the mirror, Riley turned her attention to her wardrobe. She pulled out a simple white t-shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans, the fabric soft from years of wear. Her underwear was plain and white, the kind you buy in a pack of five from the local store. No lace, no frills, just pure and simple. She slipped them on, the fabric caressing her skin gently as if offering silent support for the day ahead. The bra was a no-nonsense type, offering just enough support without being restrictive.
She quickly slipped on her plain white panties, feeling the soft fabric embrace her sensitive skin. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but she pushed them aside as she reached for her favorite pair of worn-in jeans. She pulled them up, the denim hugging her hips and thighs like a second skin. The familiar sensation brought a small semblance of comfort, as if the fabric could shield her from the day's trials. Her shirt went on next, a snug fit that accentuated her petite figure without being overly revealing. It was a simple, comfortable outfit that she had worn a hundred times before, but today it felt like armor.
The socks slid over her feet, a gentle warmth spreading through her toes as she stepped into her shoes. She took a moment to tie them, the repetitive motion offering a brief reprieve from the chaos in her head. She knew that the coming hours would be filled with the same mix of dread and excitement that had plagued her since moving into the dorm.
With a deep breath, Riley picked up her backpack and stepped into the hallway. The air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and the murmur of early morning conversations. She walked with her head down, hoping to blend in with the sea of students flowing towards the classrooms.
Her class was surprisingly normal. The professor droned on about the principles of economics, his voice a soothing background noise to the rustling of papers and the occasional yawn. For once, she felt like a typical college student, her thoughts focused on the upcoming test rather than the humiliation of the past week. The lecture hall was filled with familiar faces, none of them giving her any indication that they knew her darkest secrets.
After class, Riley retreated to the library. The air was thick with the scent of old books and the faint aroma of coffee from the café nearby. She found a quiet corner and spread her textbooks out on the table, her notebook and laptop at the ready. She had always liked the library, the hushed whispers and the occasional clack of a keyboard creating a cocoon of concentration that shielded her from the outside world.
As she dived into her economics textbook, her mind initially fought to focus, her thoughts drifting to the events of the previous evening. But with each page she turned, each note she scribbled, the haze of last night's humiliation began to lift. The words on the pages blurred and swam, but she pushed through, her eyes scanning the lines until they sharpened into coherence. The concepts began to make sense again, her mind grabbing hold of the threads of her education and pulling them tight.
But as the clock ticked closer to 3:30, the thoughts of what awaited her in art class grew more persistent. Her hand stilled on her pen, the ink drying on the paper as she pictured the white walls of the studio, the bright lights glaring down on the models and their eager audience. A shiver of anticipation raced up her spine, her breath catching in her throat. It was a thrill she hadn't anticipated, the thought of being watched and evaluated in such a raw, vulnerable state.
Riley gathered her things with a sense of purpose, the weight of her backpack feeling heavier than usual. She walked through the crowded halls, her eyes fixed on the floor, avoiding any potential eye contact that might shatter the fragile shell of composure she had built around herself. The voices around her grew muffled as she approached the door to room F11, the art studio where she would face her next challenge.
The second her hand touched the cold metal door handle, she took a deep, shaky breath. She steeled herself for what lay beyond, pushing the door open with a quiet creak. The studio was vast and open, the walls lined with shelves of art supplies and half-finished canvases. The air smelled faintly of paint and turpentine, a scent that usually brought her comfort but now only added to the knot of anxiety in her stomach.
The only person in the room was the teaching assistant, a young man with a mop of curly brown hair and a smile that could make anyone melt. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and he rushed over, extending a hand. "Hi, you must be Riley. I'm James," he said, his voice a smooth blend of warmth and enthusiasm.
Her hand felt small and cold in his firm grasp, and she couldn't help but feel a flutter in her stomach as he held her gaze for a moment too long. He was dressed in a simple t-shirt that clung to his muscular frame, the sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned, toned forearms sprinkled with fine hair. His smile was genuine, reaching his eyes, and Riley found herself smiling back, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.
James led her to the center of the room, his hand brushing against the small of her back as he talked about the importance of anatomy in art. She nodded along, trying to focus on his words as they echoed off the high ceilings, but her mind kept wandering to the way his fingers had grazed her skin, the warmth of his touch lingering even as he pulled away.
Her cheeks burned as she realized she had missed a question he had asked, and she stuttered out an apology. He just chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and assured her it was fine. He handed her a robe, the fabric soft against her palms, and gestured to a back room where she could change. She felt his gaze on her as she walked away, a weight that both terrified and thrilled her.
Once inside the small, private space, she took a deep breath and closed the door behind her. The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from a single bulb that hung from the ceiling. The walls were lined with hooks and a small bench sat against one of them, the perfect spot to lay her clothes. She hung her backpack on one of the hooks, the thud of it hitting the wall echoing in the silence.
Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. Her bra followed, the fabric releasing her breasts with a gentle bounce. She took a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror that was propped against the far wall. Her skin was pale and covered in a light sheen of sweat from the tension of the day. Her eyes searched her own, looking for the strength she knew she had to find.
She untied her shoes and slipped them off, her socks following suit, leaving her barefoot on the cold, tiled floor. The chill sent a shiver up her spine, but she ignored it, focusing on the task at hand. Riley undid her jeans and slid them down, the fabric whispering against her legs as it fell to the floor. She stepped out of them, standing in just her plain white panties.
She took a deep breath and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her plain white panties. They slid down easily, the fabric brushing against her sensitive skin as they fell to her ankles. She stepped out of them, feeling the cool air of the room kiss her now-bare legs. Riley stood before the mirror, looking at herself with a mix of vulnerability and determination.
The robe was soft under her fingertips as she pulled it on, the fabric whispering against her skin as it enveloped her. She felt a strange sense of relief as the material fell into place, as if the robe itself was a shield from the world outside. The weight of it settled around her shoulders, the tie at her waist cinching in just enough to create the illusion of modesty.
With a deep breath, Riley stepped out of the back room, her eyes searching for James. She found him at the front of the class, setting up an easel and arranging a palette of paints. He glanced over his shoulder, catching her eye, and offered her a warm smile. She felt her cheeks flush as she walked over, the fabric of the robe fluttering with each step.
"You can take a seat right here," James said, pointing to a stool at the very front of the room. Her knees trembled slightly as she perched on the edge, the robe parting just enough to reveal the tops of her thighs. She couldn't help but feel exposed, the fabric feeling almost transparent under the intense scrutiny of her own thoughts.
He walked over to her, his footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor. She caught a whiff of something faintly woodsy, a scent that was uniquely him. It made her stomach flutter in a way that was entirely unrelated to the dread of the impending class. He leaned in, his voice low and warm as he whispered, "You're going to do great. Just remember, it's all just art."
The words hung in the air between them, and she felt a strange comfort in his proximity. His hand rested gently on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She met his gaze, her eyes locking onto the warm chocolate brown of his. For a moment, the world outside the studio ceased to exist.
The door creaked open, and the spell was broken as students began to filter in. They chatted and laughed, their voices bouncing off the walls of the studio. Riley felt a knot in her stomach tighten as the room grew crowded, each new face a potential source of embarrassment. But amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, she spotted Aria, who waltzed in with an over-the-top smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Hey, Riles!" Aria called out, her voice high-pitched and sugary sweet. She approached, her hips swaying in a way that was both seductive and mocking. Riley tensed, bracing herself for the next round of torment. But instead of the cruel taunts she was expecting, Aria leaned in close and whispered, "You're doing so great, babe. Keep it up."
The professor, an older man with a neatly trimmed beard and spectacles perched on the end of his nose, strode into the room. His eyes swept over the students, taking in their eager faces before finally landing on Riley. He offered a nod of acknowledgment before setting down his bag and unfurling a large canvas.
Riley felt the weight of his gaze and the anticipation of the class. The studio had filled with a mix of chatter and the shuffling of feet, but now it was silent except for the sound of the professor laying out his brushes and paints. The students took their seats, their eyes flickering from Riley to their easels, the tension palpable as they waited for the moment to begin.
The professor cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "Alright, class," he announced, his voice echoing through the room. "Let's begin today's life drawing session. Our model for today is Riley. She's agreed to help us understand the human form better." His words were formal, but the way his eyes lingered on her suggested something more than just academic interest.
Riley's heart hammered in her chest as James offered his hand to help her up onto the platform. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the roughness of the wooden stool beneath her. The lights grew brighter, and she could feel the heat of them on her skin, the fabric of the robe sticking to her back. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within her.
"Alright, Riley, when you're ready, just let go of the robe and I'll take it from there," James said, his voice steady and calm. His eyes never left hers, as if he could will her the strength she needed with just a look. She nodded, her hand trembling as she reached for the tie at her waist.
With a deep inhale, she loosened the knot and let the robe slip from her shoulders. It fell away, revealing her naked body to the room full of strangers. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The only sound was the soft thud as the fabric hit the floor.
The professor's eyes took her in, his gaze lingering on her bare skin. He stepped forward, his hands moving with the precision of an artist sculpting a masterpiece. He adjusted her stance, placing her left foot slightly in front of the right, turning her torso to the left to showcase the curve of her waist and the swell of her hips. His touch was firm, but not unkind, his focus solely on creating a pleasing composition for his students to draw.
Riley felt the eyes of the room on her, the heat of their gazes like a blanket weighing her down. She looked around, searching for a friendly face, a hint of kindness in the sea of unfamiliarity. Her eyes found James, standing at the side, his eyes never leaving hers. In his gaze, she saw something different from the others – not the hungry stare of curiosity or the detached scrutiny of an artist studying their subject, but a warmth, a comfort that she hadn't realized she needed until that moment.
The professor stepped back, his brush stroking the air as he spoke. "Observe the way the light plays upon her skin, the subtle shadows and highlights that define her form." His eyes trailed down her body, lingering on the curve of her hip, the slope of her shoulder. "Notice the graceful arc of her spine, the way it leads your eye to the gentle swell of her buttocks." His words were clinical, but the way he said them sent a shiver down Riley's bare back.
"Her breasts, while modest in size, possess a symmetry and perkiness that is quite... captivating." His eyes met hers briefly in the mirror, a flicker of something unreadable passing between them. "The way they rest upon her ribcage, the delicate pink of her areolae." The students' brushes began to move more quickly, the sound of charcoal on paper a steady rhythm in the quiet room.
"Her stomach, a canvas of soft curves, the gentle dip of her navel." His finger traced the path of her abdomen in the air, not quite touching her, but leaving a trail of electricity in its wake. "It's the epitome of the female form, a reminder of the beauty in imperfection." The room was silent except for the scratching of pencils and the rustling of clothes as students shifted in their seats, trying to get a better view.
The professor's eyes moved lower, his gaze lingering for a beat too long on the apex of her thighs. "And here," he said, his voice a low rumble, "the juncture of her thighs, where the fabric of her femininity is most intimately revealed. The softness, the vulnerability." Riley felt a warm flush creep up her neck, her breath hitching in her chest as she realized he was talking about her most private area without actually naming it. It was as if he was painting a picture with his words, one that everyone in the room could see, but she was the only one who felt it.
With a final nod, he stepped away, leaving her exposed and trembling. "Alright, class," he said, his eyes returning to the sea of faces before him. "You have twenty minutes to sketch her form. Remember, this is not about eroticism, but the study of anatomy and the beauty of the human body. Begin."
The room came alive with the sound of students scrambling for their supplies, the rustling of paper, and the shuffling of feet as they positioned themselves around the platform. Riley felt the weight of their stares like a physical force pressing down on her, making it difficult to breathe. But she remained still, focusing on James' eyes in the mirror.
The timer on the wall began to tick down, the sound echoing in the large room. The students' eyes darted back and forth from their canvases to her body, their pencils and brushes moving rapidly. Riley felt a strange mix of embarrassment and fascination as she watched them capture her likeness, their eyes lingering on her most intimate areas before darting away, as if they were afraid she would catch them.
Her mind raced, trying to ignore the growing wetness between her legs, the way her nipples had hardened into tight peaks under the scrutiny of so many eyes. She knew that the room was warm, that her skin was flushed from the heat of the lights, but she couldn't help the feeling that it was something more, something primal that was stirring within her.
The professor cleared his throat, and Riley felt a cold drop of sweat slip down her spine. His gaze was sharp, his expression unreadable as he took in the scene before him. "James," he said, his voice cutting through the air, "please address the... issue with our model's skin."
James looked up from his canvas, his eyes widening slightly before he nodded. He set down his brush and palette, walking over with a soft cloth in hand. The students' eyes remained glued to their sketches, the sound of their brushes stroking the paper almost too loud in the sudden stillness. Riley felt a fresh wave of mortification wash over her as James approached, his gaze flicking down to the dampness between her legs.
"It's okay, Riley," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to her frazzled nerves. "This happens sometimes. It's a natural response." He gently wiped her thighs with the cloth, the coolness of it offering a small reprieve from the heat of the room. "Remember, this is about art, not...anything else." His eyes met hers in the mirror, and she could see the concern in them.
The professor's footsteps grew closer, his face a mask of disapproval as he approached the platform. "This is a professional setting, young lady," he scolded, his eyes narrowing as he took in her flushed skin and the evidence of her arousal. "This is a classroom, not an exhibition hall for your... desires." His voice was stern, a clear reprimand that sent a jolt of humiliation through her.
Riley felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment as she tried to shrink away from his gaze. She didn't dare move, not with all the students watching and drawing, capturing every inch of her exposed flesh. She felt trapped, a butterfly pinned to a board for display.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn't know why she was apologizing, but it was the only thing she could think to do.
The professor's eyes softened slightly, and he offered a small nod of understanding. "It's alright, dear," he said, his voice less stern. "Just remember to keep your focus on the art." He turned away, leaving James to stand by her side.
Riley took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. She looked around the room, her eyes meeting the various students as they drew her. Some of them were focused, their gazes intense and professional. Others had the barest hint of a smirk playing on their lips, their eyes lingering on her more intimate areas.
The timer on the wall ticked down with agonizing slowness. Each second felt like an eternity as she stood there, naked and on display. She could feel the beads of sweat forming on her forehead, trickling down her neck and between her breasts. Time had stretched out, each minute feeling like hours as she remained in her pose, trying to ignore the ache in her muscles and the way the light played upon her skin.
Finally, the timer beeped, and the students began to shift in their seats, stretching their arms and looking at their work with critical eyes. The professor called for a break, and the room erupted into a cacophony of voices as everyone moved around the room to examine each other's art.
Riley took the opportunity to slide off the platform, her legs wobbly from standing still for so long. She grabbed the robe and wrapped it tightly around herself, feeling the warmth of the fabric envelop her. She was grateful for the reprieve, but the feeling of vulnerability still clung to her like a second skin.
"You're doing well," James murmured, his voice a gentle reassurance in the sea of whispers and critiques. "Just one more pose, okay?"
Riley nodded, her grip tight on the robe. She didn't want to go through this again, but she knew she had to. With trembling hands, she let the fabric fall away from her body, exposing herself once more to the prying eyes of the class. The professor nodded, a hint of approval in his gaze.
"For our final pose," he announced, "we'll have Riley lie down on the chaise lounge." He gestured to a velvet couch that had been set up at the side of the room. "This will allow us to study the contours of the human form in a more relaxed state."
With trembling legs, Riley stepped off the platform and made her way over to the chaise lounge. She laid down as instructed, feeling the cool fabric against her bare skin. The professor approached, his eyes scanning her body as if she were a piece of art. He adjusted her position, placing a cushion beneath her head, one hand gently guiding her knee to bend, the other pushing her hip up to create a more dramatic arch. His touch was professional, but the intimacy of it sent a shiver through her that she couldn't quite ignore.
"Lovely," he murmured, stepping back to survey his work. "Now, class, note the way the softness of her form contrasts with the firmness of the chaise. Her body is a canvas of curves and lines, begging to be captured." He stepped aside, and Riley felt the room's eyes on her again, their gazes hungry as they studied her new pose.
The chaise lounge cradled her body, one leg bent at the knee and the other stretched out, toes pointed towards the ceiling. Her arm was bent above her head, hand resting gently on the velvet cushion. The pose was elegant, yet it exposed her in a way that made her feel more vulnerable than ever. Her breasts lay against the cool fabric, the tips grazing the velvet, and she could feel the coolness of the air against her pussy. She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way her body was responding to the situation.
The professor's eyes lingered on her, a smirk playing on his lips. "Perfect," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "Now, let's get back to work. We have fifteen minutes for this pose, so make the most of it."
The students resumed their drawing, their eyes moving over her body with a newfound intensity. Riley could feel the wetness between her legs growing, her arousal a betrayal she couldn't ignore. She tried to focus on the sound of the pencils and brushes, the murmur of their discussions, anything to distract herself from the way her body was reacting to the situation.
As the minutes ticked by, the room grew hotter, the air thick with the scent of sweat and turpentine. The students moved closer, their eyes flicking from their canvases to her body and back again. Some of them were openly ogling her, their faces flushed with desire, while others maintained a facade of professionalism, their eyes cool and calculating as they studied her form.
Riley's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, a tumultuous storm of fear, shame, and a confusing thread of arousal that seemed to grow with each passing second. She could feel the heat of the lights on her skin, the fabric of the chaise lounge sticking slightly to the sweat that had begun to pool in the small of her back. Her body felt like it was on display, a feast for the eyes of these strangers who were supposed to be her peers.
And then, after what felt like an eternity, the professor called time. The room was silent for a moment, the only sound the shuffling of feet and the rustling of paper as the students began to pack up their supplies. Riley felt the tension in the room dissipate, the collective exhale of relief almost palpable. She allowed herself to close her eyes for a brief moment, taking in the sweet taste of the air that was no longer filled with the weight of their gazes.
When she opened her eyes, she saw James walking towards her, his canvas under his arm. He offered her a gentle smile, his eyes full of understanding. "You did great," he whispered as he helped her off the chaise. Her legs were wobbly from the strain of holding the pose for so long, and she leaned into him gratefully.
The robe lay on the ground, a puddle of fabric around her bare feet. As she bent to pick it up, her heart skipped a beat as she realized she had bent over just enough to give the entire class an unobstructed view of her round, bare ass. A murmur rippled through the room, and she heard the unmistakable sound of someone stifling a laugh. She felt her face burn as she hastily wrapped the robe around herself, tying the belt with trembling hands.
The professor's voice was a gentle reprieve, calling the class to attention. "Alright, everyone, that's it for today. Remember to submit your best pieces for critique next week. Good work." The students began to pack up their things, the cacophony of voices and rustling papers filling the room once more. Riley didn't dare look at anyone as she stepped down from the platform, her eyes trained on the floor.
Her bare feet made soft slapping sounds against the cold tiles as she hurried to the back room, the robe barely concealing her nakedness. The door closed behind her with a soft click, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. She leaned against it, her chest heaving as she tried to regain her composure. The room was smaller, the walls seemingly closing in on her as the reality of what had just happened set in.
Her bag sat on a chair in the corner, the phone within it vibrating insistently. Riley's hand trembled as she reached for it, the screen illuminating the darkness with awhite glow. A text from Aria. The message was simple and to the point: "Your next masturbation session is now. Get to it." Riley felt a fresh wave of dread wash over her, but she knew better than to ignore the command. Her heart raced as she opened the camera app, the cold air of the room making her nipples tighten even more.
With a deep breath, she propped the phone against the edge of the mirror, angling it to capture her full body. The room was small and sparse, the only light coming from the single bulb above the sink casting harsh shadows across her form. She stepped back, dropping the robe to the floor. The fabric pooled around her feet like a dark cloud.
Her fingers trembled as they traveled down her body, tracing the same path that the professor's eyes had taken just moments ago. She touched her breasts, her nipples already hard with anticipation, and felt a jolt of arousal shoot straight to her core. Her thoughts were a tangled web of confusion and fear, but her body's response was undeniable. She squeezed her breasts lightly, watching her reflection as she did so, and felt a wetness begin to gather between her legs.
Her hand slid lower, down her stomach, and she paused for a moment before reaching her mound. She spread her legs slightly wider, giving herself a better view, and her eyes widened at the sight of her own arousal glistening in the harsh light. She could feel the heat of her own body, the need for release pulsing through her veins like a drug.
Her hand hovered over her pussy for a moment before she gave in, her fingertips brushing the sensitive skin. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she touched herself, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through her body. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the memory of the classroom, the feeling of their eyes on her.
But it was no use. The arousal that had been building within her during the class was too intense to ignore. Her breath grew shallow as she began to rub herself in slow, gentle circles, the pressure building with each pass. She could feel the wetness spreading, coating her fingertips as they moved over her swollen clit. The sound of her own moans echoed in the small room, the only sound other than the steady hum of the fluorescent lights above.
Riley's body moved of its own accord, her hips rocking slightly as she increased the tempo. She could feel the tension coiling tight within her, the beginnings of an orgasm she hadn't anticipated. The thought of being watched, of being forced to do this, only served to heighten her arousal. Her free hand clutched the edge of the sink, knuckles white with the effort of keeping herself upright.
But as the sensation grew, as her breathing turned to gasps and her muscles began to clench, she remembered the rule. The cold grip of fear replaced the warmth of her desire. She wasn't allowed to cum, not unless they told her to. Her eyes snapped open, staring into her own reflection as she bit down hard on her lip to muffle a whimper. Her hand stilled, her body protesting the sudden cessation of contact.
"No," she murmured to herself, "not yet." She took a deep, shuddering breath, willing her body to calm. It was a battle of wills, her desperate need for release against the iron grip of the rules that bound her. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her chest heaving as she fought back the waves of pleasure. She could feel the orgasm hovering just out of reach, taunting her.
Finally, with trembling hands, Riley picked up her phone and ended the recording. Her hand hovered over the 'send' button for a brief moment, the weight of the action heavy in the air. She knew what it meant: another piece of her dignity sent to her blackmailers. But she also knew there was no going back. With a deep breath, she hit send, watching as the video made its way to Ellie, Aria, and Claire. The moment the message disappeared from her screen, she felt a mix of relief and dread wash over her.
Quickly, she gathered her scattered clothes, her movements frantic as she tried to put herself back together. She stepped into her panties, the fabric feeling foreign against her still-sensitive skin. Her bra followed, the cups enveloping her breasts in a familiar embrace that was almost comforting after the vulnerability of being bare. She pulled her shirt over her head, the fabric sticking to her damp skin for a moment before falling into place. Her jeans were next, the denim rough against her smooth thighs, a stark reminder of the reality of her situation. She slipped on her shoes and grabbed her bag, the phone still heavy in her hand.
As she stepped out of the back room, she found James waiting for her, his own art supplies neatly packed away. His eyes met hers, and she knew he could see the fresh flush on her cheeks, the way her pupils were still dilated with arousal. He didn't say anything, just offered her a knowing smile, and she felt a blush spread across her chest. The silence between them was heavy with unspoken understanding. He knew what she had just done, and she knew he knew.
"Hey," he said finally, his voice gentle. "You okay?"
Riley looked up at him, her eyes glazed over with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. "I... I'm fine," she lied, her voice barely above a whisper.
James studied her for a moment before nodding, his gaze understanding. "You know, after a class like that, I always find that a good meal can help ground you," he said, his tone casual as if he hadn't just watched her perform an intimate act in front of a room full of strangers. "Would you like to grab something to eat?"
Riley's stomach rumbled, the sound echoing in the emptying classroom. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until that moment, and the thought of food was surprisingly appealing. She nodded, her voice still shaky. "Yes, please."
They walked out of the art building and into the cool evening air, the gentle buzz of campus life surrounding them like a balm to her frayed nerves. The sushi place James suggested was a small, dimly lit joint right by the college, known for its affordable prices and generous portions. The smell of wasabi and soy sauce wafted out the door, making her stomach growl again.
Inside, the restaurant was cozy, with a mix of booths and bar seating. The walls were adorned with paintings of fish and Japanese calligraphy, and the lighting was soft, casting a warm glow over everything. The chatter of students and the sizzle of food on the grill filled the air, creating a comforting cocoon of normalcy that she desperately craved.
They settled into a booth in the corner, and James ordered for them both. He was attentive, making sure she had everything she needed, his touch on her arm or her hand a gentle reminder that she wasn’t alone. Riley felt herself relax slightly, the weight of the past hour beginning to ease from her shoulders. She picked at her food, her thoughts still racing, her body still thrumming with the aftermath of her near-orgasm.
Their conversation was light, a deliberate attempt to steer clear of the tension that clung to her like a second skin. They talked about their classes, their plans for the weekend, and the latest gossip around campus. James' laugh was easy, the kind of laugh that made you want to lean in closer, to be part of whatever joke he was telling. It was infectious, and Riley found herself smiling despite her inner turmoil.
The food arrived, a platter of sushi rolls and a steaming bowl of ramen that made her mouth water. James had ordered a variety of dishes, ensuring that she had something she liked. She picked up her chopsticks, her hand still trembling slightly, and took a bite of a California roll. The taste of the cucumber and avocado melded with the salty fish was a welcome relief to the dryness in her mouth.
As they ate, their conversation grew more comfortable, the silence between them no longer charged with unspoken secrets. James talked about his latest art project, a sculpture that had been giving him a hard time, and Riley found herself getting lost in the details of his work, forgetting momentarily about the video she had just sent. The food was delicious, the company surprisingly comforting. For a brief moment, it was easy to pretend she was just a normal college student out with a friend, not someone being blackmailed into degrading acts.
They finished their meal, the plates empty except for a few grains of rice and a smear of wasabi. James reached for the check, his hand lingering over the leather wallet in his pocket for a moment before he pulled out some cash. He paid the bill, the clink of change and the rustle of paper a mundane sound in the otherwise chaotic symphony of her life.
Riley felt a genuine smile tug at the corners of her mouth as they stepped out into the cool evening air. The weight of the day's events had not disappeared entirely, but it had lifted just enough to allow a semblance of happiness to seep through. The night was clear, the stars twinkling like distant eyes watching over them. The gentle glow of streetlights cast a soft halo around James, making him look almost ethereal.
"Thank you for dinner," she murmured, her voice a soft caress in the quiet of the night. "It was really nice."
James looked at her, his eyes searching hers, the warmth of the restaurant's glow reflecting in his eyes. "You're welcome, Riley. Anytime." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper, scribbling something on it with a pen. "Here, take my number." He handed it to her, his thumb brushing against her palm in a gentle caress that sent a shiver up her spine. "If you ever want to do this again, or if you just need to talk, call me."
Her hand closed around the paper, the edges crinkling slightly with her trembling grip. The simple act of giving her his number felt like a lifeline thrown into a tumultuous sea. "Thank you," she whispered, tucking it into her pocket.
They walked back to the dorms, their footsteps echoing in the quiet night. The air was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth of the sushi restaurant, and Riley felt goosebumps rise on her arms. James noticed and offered her his jacket, his gesture so tender it almost brought tears to her eyes. She took it, the scent of him surrounding her, and slipped it on, feeling a little more protected from the cold.
As they approached her building, Riley felt the weight of the day's events settle back in. She paused, her hand on the door handle. "Thanks for everything," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
James looked at her, his expression gentle. "You don't have to thank me," he replied, taking a step closer. "But if you ever need anything, I'm here."
Riley felt a knot in her stomach, her thoughts racing. What would he think if he knew the truth? Would he still be so kind to her? The urge to confess was almost overwhelming, but she pushed it down. She couldn't risk it, not now. She managed a small smile. "I appreciate it."
James nodded, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back. "Good night, Riley."
Her eyes searched his, looking for any hint of what he might be thinking. All she saw was kindness and concern, and she felt a pang of regret for the secrets she was keeping from him. "Good night," she murmured before slipping inside the building, leaving him on the sidewalk.
The next morning dawned too early, the sun's rays piercing through the curtains and painting stripes across the floor. Riley's eyes snapped open, her body tense and alert as the events of the night came flooding back to her. The memory of the cold finger in her ass, the taste of Rachel's pussy, the sound of the camera shutter, all of it rushing over her like a tidal wave. She groaned, burying her face in the pillow to muffle the sound.
Her skin felt sticky and clammy, the residue of the night's humiliation still clinging to her. She sat up, the cool air hitting her naked body like a slap, the sheets pooling around her waist. The room was eerily silent, the only sound her own ragged breathing and the distant murmur of the college outside.
With trembling hands, she reached for her phone, the screen glowing like a beacon in the dark. The notifications blinked at her, a reminder of the world waiting outside her door. Her stomach clenched as she saw Aria's name at the top of the list. She swiped open the message with a mix of dread and anticipation.
*Art class is today at 3:30 in room F11. Make sure to be early. You know what's expected.*
The message from Aria burned in Riley's mind as she stared at the clock. An hour before her first class—just enough time to get one of her masturbation sessions over with. The thought of the coming day filled her with a mix of dread and anticipation. Ellie had already left for the day, no doubt off to her own classes with a smug grin plastered on her face, leaving Riley alone with her thoughts and the looming specter of the next challenge.
With a resigned sigh, Riley leaned her phone up against the edge of her desk, the screen reflecting the stark light of the room. She positioned herself in front of it, her legs spread wide, the cool air of the room kissing her exposed pussy. She felt a strange mix of arousal and fear as she began to rub her clit, the camera's eye watching her every move. Her hand was unsteady, her breath coming in short gasps as she built the pressure, her eyes locked on the lens as if it were a lover's gaze.
Her fingers grew slick with her juices, the wet sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and she felt the familiar tightness in her chest that came from being watched. Her breasts bobbed gently with the rhythm of her movements, her nipples hardening to tight little peaks. Her eyes grew hazy, the room spinning slightly as the tension grew, her body straining towards the release that was just out of reach.
Her legs shook, the muscles in her thighs tightening as she approached the edge again. Her breath grew ragged, her hips bucking slightly as she chased the feeling. Her pussy was swollen and sensitive, the touch of her own hand sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. She bit her bottom lip, the sting of pain adding to the symphony of sensations. Her eyes never left the camera, the lens a silent judge to her depravity.
But just as she felt the orgasm building, the sweet promise of release, she stopped. Her hand hovered just above her clit, her breathing erratic. The room was a sea of tension, the air thick with her need. She knew that if she went further, if she let herself climax, she would be breaking the rules. The thought of their disappointment, of the punishment that would surely follow, was like a bucket of ice water thrown on her passion.
Her hand trembled as she picked up her phone, the camera still running, capturing every moment of her torment. She hit the stop button, the screen going black for a brief, silent second before coming to life with a soft beep. The evidence of her obedience was there, a silent testament to her submission. She swiped through to the camera roll, the image of her naked, aroused body staring back at her. With trembling fingers, she attached the video to a group chat with Ellie, Aria, and Claire and hit send.
A moment later, her phone vibrated with a notification. A text from Ellie, a single word: "Good." The brevity of the message sent a thrill of fear through her. It wasn't approval, but it wasn't disapproval either. It was a cold, calculated acknowledgment of her compliance.
Riley took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. She walked over to her dresser, the cold wood a stark contrast to the warmth of her skin. She opened the top drawer, her eyes landing on the small makeup bag she had shoved to the back. It was a rare indulgence, something she usually reserved for special occasions or when she was feeling particularly low and needed a boost of confidence.
Her hand hovered over the bag for a moment before she finally picked it up, the weight of it feeling heavier than usual. She sat down on the edge of her bed, her legs crossed as she pulled out the contents. The makeup spilled out, a kaleidoscope of colors and textures that promised to transform her into someone else. Someone who wasn't a 'virgin slut', someone who could walk into that art class with her head held high.
With a shaky hand, she applied a thin layer of foundation, blending it into her skin until it was almost imperceptible. She added a touch of blush to her cheeks, the color a soft pink that mimicked the natural flush she got when she was aroused. Her eyes she lined with a dark pencil, winging it out slightly for a sultry look that made her feel bolder. A swipe of mascara made her lashes look fuller, her eyes seemingly larger and more alluring.
The rest of her makeup was minimal, just enough to enhance her features without looking like she was trying too hard. A bit of lip gloss to make her lips shine and a hint of highlighter on her cheekbones to add a touch of glow. It was a look that said she knew she was desirable, but didn't need to shout it from the rooftops. It was the kind of makeup that made you do a double take, wondering if she was naturally that beautiful or if she had a secret weapon hidden in her makeup bag.
With a final look in the mirror, Riley turned her attention to her wardrobe. She pulled out a simple white t-shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans, the fabric soft from years of wear. Her underwear was plain and white, the kind you buy in a pack of five from the local store. No lace, no frills, just pure and simple. She slipped them on, the fabric caressing her skin gently as if offering silent support for the day ahead. The bra was a no-nonsense type, offering just enough support without being restrictive.
She quickly slipped on her plain white panties, feeling the soft fabric embrace her sensitive skin. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but she pushed them aside as she reached for her favorite pair of worn-in jeans. She pulled them up, the denim hugging her hips and thighs like a second skin. The familiar sensation brought a small semblance of comfort, as if the fabric could shield her from the day's trials. Her shirt went on next, a snug fit that accentuated her petite figure without being overly revealing. It was a simple, comfortable outfit that she had worn a hundred times before, but today it felt like armor.
The socks slid over her feet, a gentle warmth spreading through her toes as she stepped into her shoes. She took a moment to tie them, the repetitive motion offering a brief reprieve from the chaos in her head. She knew that the coming hours would be filled with the same mix of dread and excitement that had plagued her since moving into the dorm.
With a deep breath, Riley picked up her backpack and stepped into the hallway. The air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and the murmur of early morning conversations. She walked with her head down, hoping to blend in with the sea of students flowing towards the classrooms.
Her class was surprisingly normal. The professor droned on about the principles of economics, his voice a soothing background noise to the rustling of papers and the occasional yawn. For once, she felt like a typical college student, her thoughts focused on the upcoming test rather than the humiliation of the past week. The lecture hall was filled with familiar faces, none of them giving her any indication that they knew her darkest secrets.
After class, Riley retreated to the library. The air was thick with the scent of old books and the faint aroma of coffee from the café nearby. She found a quiet corner and spread her textbooks out on the table, her notebook and laptop at the ready. She had always liked the library, the hushed whispers and the occasional clack of a keyboard creating a cocoon of concentration that shielded her from the outside world.
As she dived into her economics textbook, her mind initially fought to focus, her thoughts drifting to the events of the previous evening. But with each page she turned, each note she scribbled, the haze of last night's humiliation began to lift. The words on the pages blurred and swam, but she pushed through, her eyes scanning the lines until they sharpened into coherence. The concepts began to make sense again, her mind grabbing hold of the threads of her education and pulling them tight.
But as the clock ticked closer to 3:30, the thoughts of what awaited her in art class grew more persistent. Her hand stilled on her pen, the ink drying on the paper as she pictured the white walls of the studio, the bright lights glaring down on the models and their eager audience. A shiver of anticipation raced up her spine, her breath catching in her throat. It was a thrill she hadn't anticipated, the thought of being watched and evaluated in such a raw, vulnerable state.
Riley gathered her things with a sense of purpose, the weight of her backpack feeling heavier than usual. She walked through the crowded halls, her eyes fixed on the floor, avoiding any potential eye contact that might shatter the fragile shell of composure she had built around herself. The voices around her grew muffled as she approached the door to room F11, the art studio where she would face her next challenge.
The second her hand touched the cold metal door handle, she took a deep, shaky breath. She steeled herself for what lay beyond, pushing the door open with a quiet creak. The studio was vast and open, the walls lined with shelves of art supplies and half-finished canvases. The air smelled faintly of paint and turpentine, a scent that usually brought her comfort but now only added to the knot of anxiety in her stomach.
The only person in the room was the teaching assistant, a young man with a mop of curly brown hair and a smile that could make anyone melt. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and he rushed over, extending a hand. "Hi, you must be Riley. I'm James," he said, his voice a smooth blend of warmth and enthusiasm.
Her hand felt small and cold in his firm grasp, and she couldn't help but feel a flutter in her stomach as he held her gaze for a moment too long. He was dressed in a simple t-shirt that clung to his muscular frame, the sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned, toned forearms sprinkled with fine hair. His smile was genuine, reaching his eyes, and Riley found herself smiling back, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.
James led her to the center of the room, his hand brushing against the small of her back as he talked about the importance of anatomy in art. She nodded along, trying to focus on his words as they echoed off the high ceilings, but her mind kept wandering to the way his fingers had grazed her skin, the warmth of his touch lingering even as he pulled away.
Her cheeks burned as she realized she had missed a question he had asked, and she stuttered out an apology. He just chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and assured her it was fine. He handed her a robe, the fabric soft against her palms, and gestured to a back room where she could change. She felt his gaze on her as she walked away, a weight that both terrified and thrilled her.
Once inside the small, private space, she took a deep breath and closed the door behind her. The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from a single bulb that hung from the ceiling. The walls were lined with hooks and a small bench sat against one of them, the perfect spot to lay her clothes. She hung her backpack on one of the hooks, the thud of it hitting the wall echoing in the silence.
Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. Her bra followed, the fabric releasing her breasts with a gentle bounce. She took a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror that was propped against the far wall. Her skin was pale and covered in a light sheen of sweat from the tension of the day. Her eyes searched her own, looking for the strength she knew she had to find.
She untied her shoes and slipped them off, her socks following suit, leaving her barefoot on the cold, tiled floor. The chill sent a shiver up her spine, but she ignored it, focusing on the task at hand. Riley undid her jeans and slid them down, the fabric whispering against her legs as it fell to the floor. She stepped out of them, standing in just her plain white panties.
She took a deep breath and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her plain white panties. They slid down easily, the fabric brushing against her sensitive skin as they fell to her ankles. She stepped out of them, feeling the cool air of the room kiss her now-bare legs. Riley stood before the mirror, looking at herself with a mix of vulnerability and determination.
The robe was soft under her fingertips as she pulled it on, the fabric whispering against her skin as it enveloped her. She felt a strange sense of relief as the material fell into place, as if the robe itself was a shield from the world outside. The weight of it settled around her shoulders, the tie at her waist cinching in just enough to create the illusion of modesty.
With a deep breath, Riley stepped out of the back room, her eyes searching for James. She found him at the front of the class, setting up an easel and arranging a palette of paints. He glanced over his shoulder, catching her eye, and offered her a warm smile. She felt her cheeks flush as she walked over, the fabric of the robe fluttering with each step.
"You can take a seat right here," James said, pointing to a stool at the very front of the room. Her knees trembled slightly as she perched on the edge, the robe parting just enough to reveal the tops of her thighs. She couldn't help but feel exposed, the fabric feeling almost transparent under the intense scrutiny of her own thoughts.
He walked over to her, his footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor. She caught a whiff of something faintly woodsy, a scent that was uniquely him. It made her stomach flutter in a way that was entirely unrelated to the dread of the impending class. He leaned in, his voice low and warm as he whispered, "You're going to do great. Just remember, it's all just art."
The words hung in the air between them, and she felt a strange comfort in his proximity. His hand rested gently on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She met his gaze, her eyes locking onto the warm chocolate brown of his. For a moment, the world outside the studio ceased to exist.
The door creaked open, and the spell was broken as students began to filter in. They chatted and laughed, their voices bouncing off the walls of the studio. Riley felt a knot in her stomach tighten as the room grew crowded, each new face a potential source of embarrassment. But amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, she spotted Aria, who waltzed in with an over-the-top smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Hey, Riles!" Aria called out, her voice high-pitched and sugary sweet. She approached, her hips swaying in a way that was both seductive and mocking. Riley tensed, bracing herself for the next round of torment. But instead of the cruel taunts she was expecting, Aria leaned in close and whispered, "You're doing so great, babe. Keep it up."
The professor, an older man with a neatly trimmed beard and spectacles perched on the end of his nose, strode into the room. His eyes swept over the students, taking in their eager faces before finally landing on Riley. He offered a nod of acknowledgment before setting down his bag and unfurling a large canvas.
Riley felt the weight of his gaze and the anticipation of the class. The studio had filled with a mix of chatter and the shuffling of feet, but now it was silent except for the sound of the professor laying out his brushes and paints. The students took their seats, their eyes flickering from Riley to their easels, the tension palpable as they waited for the moment to begin.
The professor cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "Alright, class," he announced, his voice echoing through the room. "Let's begin today's life drawing session. Our model for today is Riley. She's agreed to help us understand the human form better." His words were formal, but the way his eyes lingered on her suggested something more than just academic interest.
Riley's heart hammered in her chest as James offered his hand to help her up onto the platform. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the roughness of the wooden stool beneath her. The lights grew brighter, and she could feel the heat of them on her skin, the fabric of the robe sticking to her back. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within her.
"Alright, Riley, when you're ready, just let go of the robe and I'll take it from there," James said, his voice steady and calm. His eyes never left hers, as if he could will her the strength she needed with just a look. She nodded, her hand trembling as she reached for the tie at her waist.
With a deep inhale, she loosened the knot and let the robe slip from her shoulders. It fell away, revealing her naked body to the room full of strangers. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The only sound was the soft thud as the fabric hit the floor.
The professor's eyes took her in, his gaze lingering on her bare skin. He stepped forward, his hands moving with the precision of an artist sculpting a masterpiece. He adjusted her stance, placing her left foot slightly in front of the right, turning her torso to the left to showcase the curve of her waist and the swell of her hips. His touch was firm, but not unkind, his focus solely on creating a pleasing composition for his students to draw.
Riley felt the eyes of the room on her, the heat of their gazes like a blanket weighing her down. She looked around, searching for a friendly face, a hint of kindness in the sea of unfamiliarity. Her eyes found James, standing at the side, his eyes never leaving hers. In his gaze, she saw something different from the others – not the hungry stare of curiosity or the detached scrutiny of an artist studying their subject, but a warmth, a comfort that she hadn't realized she needed until that moment.
The professor stepped back, his brush stroking the air as he spoke. "Observe the way the light plays upon her skin, the subtle shadows and highlights that define her form." His eyes trailed down her body, lingering on the curve of her hip, the slope of her shoulder. "Notice the graceful arc of her spine, the way it leads your eye to the gentle swell of her buttocks." His words were clinical, but the way he said them sent a shiver down Riley's bare back.
"Her breasts, while modest in size, possess a symmetry and perkiness that is quite... captivating." His eyes met hers briefly in the mirror, a flicker of something unreadable passing between them. "The way they rest upon her ribcage, the delicate pink of her areolae." The students' brushes began to move more quickly, the sound of charcoal on paper a steady rhythm in the quiet room.
"Her stomach, a canvas of soft curves, the gentle dip of her navel." His finger traced the path of her abdomen in the air, not quite touching her, but leaving a trail of electricity in its wake. "It's the epitome of the female form, a reminder of the beauty in imperfection." The room was silent except for the scratching of pencils and the rustling of clothes as students shifted in their seats, trying to get a better view.
The professor's eyes moved lower, his gaze lingering for a beat too long on the apex of her thighs. "And here," he said, his voice a low rumble, "the juncture of her thighs, where the fabric of her femininity is most intimately revealed. The softness, the vulnerability." Riley felt a warm flush creep up her neck, her breath hitching in her chest as she realized he was talking about her most private area without actually naming it. It was as if he was painting a picture with his words, one that everyone in the room could see, but she was the only one who felt it.
With a final nod, he stepped away, leaving her exposed and trembling. "Alright, class," he said, his eyes returning to the sea of faces before him. "You have twenty minutes to sketch her form. Remember, this is not about eroticism, but the study of anatomy and the beauty of the human body. Begin."
The room came alive with the sound of students scrambling for their supplies, the rustling of paper, and the shuffling of feet as they positioned themselves around the platform. Riley felt the weight of their stares like a physical force pressing down on her, making it difficult to breathe. But she remained still, focusing on James' eyes in the mirror.
The timer on the wall began to tick down, the sound echoing in the large room. The students' eyes darted back and forth from their canvases to her body, their pencils and brushes moving rapidly. Riley felt a strange mix of embarrassment and fascination as she watched them capture her likeness, their eyes lingering on her most intimate areas before darting away, as if they were afraid she would catch them.
Her mind raced, trying to ignore the growing wetness between her legs, the way her nipples had hardened into tight peaks under the scrutiny of so many eyes. She knew that the room was warm, that her skin was flushed from the heat of the lights, but she couldn't help the feeling that it was something more, something primal that was stirring within her.
The professor cleared his throat, and Riley felt a cold drop of sweat slip down her spine. His gaze was sharp, his expression unreadable as he took in the scene before him. "James," he said, his voice cutting through the air, "please address the... issue with our model's skin."
James looked up from his canvas, his eyes widening slightly before he nodded. He set down his brush and palette, walking over with a soft cloth in hand. The students' eyes remained glued to their sketches, the sound of their brushes stroking the paper almost too loud in the sudden stillness. Riley felt a fresh wave of mortification wash over her as James approached, his gaze flicking down to the dampness between her legs.
"It's okay, Riley," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to her frazzled nerves. "This happens sometimes. It's a natural response." He gently wiped her thighs with the cloth, the coolness of it offering a small reprieve from the heat of the room. "Remember, this is about art, not...anything else." His eyes met hers in the mirror, and she could see the concern in them.
The professor's footsteps grew closer, his face a mask of disapproval as he approached the platform. "This is a professional setting, young lady," he scolded, his eyes narrowing as he took in her flushed skin and the evidence of her arousal. "This is a classroom, not an exhibition hall for your... desires." His voice was stern, a clear reprimand that sent a jolt of humiliation through her.
Riley felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment as she tried to shrink away from his gaze. She didn't dare move, not with all the students watching and drawing, capturing every inch of her exposed flesh. She felt trapped, a butterfly pinned to a board for display.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn't know why she was apologizing, but it was the only thing she could think to do.
The professor's eyes softened slightly, and he offered a small nod of understanding. "It's alright, dear," he said, his voice less stern. "Just remember to keep your focus on the art." He turned away, leaving James to stand by her side.
Riley took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. She looked around the room, her eyes meeting the various students as they drew her. Some of them were focused, their gazes intense and professional. Others had the barest hint of a smirk playing on their lips, their eyes lingering on her more intimate areas.
The timer on the wall ticked down with agonizing slowness. Each second felt like an eternity as she stood there, naked and on display. She could feel the beads of sweat forming on her forehead, trickling down her neck and between her breasts. Time had stretched out, each minute feeling like hours as she remained in her pose, trying to ignore the ache in her muscles and the way the light played upon her skin.
Finally, the timer beeped, and the students began to shift in their seats, stretching their arms and looking at their work with critical eyes. The professor called for a break, and the room erupted into a cacophony of voices as everyone moved around the room to examine each other's art.
Riley took the opportunity to slide off the platform, her legs wobbly from standing still for so long. She grabbed the robe and wrapped it tightly around herself, feeling the warmth of the fabric envelop her. She was grateful for the reprieve, but the feeling of vulnerability still clung to her like a second skin.
"You're doing well," James murmured, his voice a gentle reassurance in the sea of whispers and critiques. "Just one more pose, okay?"
Riley nodded, her grip tight on the robe. She didn't want to go through this again, but she knew she had to. With trembling hands, she let the fabric fall away from her body, exposing herself once more to the prying eyes of the class. The professor nodded, a hint of approval in his gaze.
"For our final pose," he announced, "we'll have Riley lie down on the chaise lounge." He gestured to a velvet couch that had been set up at the side of the room. "This will allow us to study the contours of the human form in a more relaxed state."
With trembling legs, Riley stepped off the platform and made her way over to the chaise lounge. She laid down as instructed, feeling the cool fabric against her bare skin. The professor approached, his eyes scanning her body as if she were a piece of art. He adjusted her position, placing a cushion beneath her head, one hand gently guiding her knee to bend, the other pushing her hip up to create a more dramatic arch. His touch was professional, but the intimacy of it sent a shiver through her that she couldn't quite ignore.
"Lovely," he murmured, stepping back to survey his work. "Now, class, note the way the softness of her form contrasts with the firmness of the chaise. Her body is a canvas of curves and lines, begging to be captured." He stepped aside, and Riley felt the room's eyes on her again, their gazes hungry as they studied her new pose.
The chaise lounge cradled her body, one leg bent at the knee and the other stretched out, toes pointed towards the ceiling. Her arm was bent above her head, hand resting gently on the velvet cushion. The pose was elegant, yet it exposed her in a way that made her feel more vulnerable than ever. Her breasts lay against the cool fabric, the tips grazing the velvet, and she could feel the coolness of the air against her pussy. She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way her body was responding to the situation.
The professor's eyes lingered on her, a smirk playing on his lips. "Perfect," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "Now, let's get back to work. We have fifteen minutes for this pose, so make the most of it."
The students resumed their drawing, their eyes moving over her body with a newfound intensity. Riley could feel the wetness between her legs growing, her arousal a betrayal she couldn't ignore. She tried to focus on the sound of the pencils and brushes, the murmur of their discussions, anything to distract herself from the way her body was reacting to the situation.
As the minutes ticked by, the room grew hotter, the air thick with the scent of sweat and turpentine. The students moved closer, their eyes flicking from their canvases to her body and back again. Some of them were openly ogling her, their faces flushed with desire, while others maintained a facade of professionalism, their eyes cool and calculating as they studied her form.
Riley's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, a tumultuous storm of fear, shame, and a confusing thread of arousal that seemed to grow with each passing second. She could feel the heat of the lights on her skin, the fabric of the chaise lounge sticking slightly to the sweat that had begun to pool in the small of her back. Her body felt like it was on display, a feast for the eyes of these strangers who were supposed to be her peers.
And then, after what felt like an eternity, the professor called time. The room was silent for a moment, the only sound the shuffling of feet and the rustling of paper as the students began to pack up their supplies. Riley felt the tension in the room dissipate, the collective exhale of relief almost palpable. She allowed herself to close her eyes for a brief moment, taking in the sweet taste of the air that was no longer filled with the weight of their gazes.
When she opened her eyes, she saw James walking towards her, his canvas under his arm. He offered her a gentle smile, his eyes full of understanding. "You did great," he whispered as he helped her off the chaise. Her legs were wobbly from the strain of holding the pose for so long, and she leaned into him gratefully.
The robe lay on the ground, a puddle of fabric around her bare feet. As she bent to pick it up, her heart skipped a beat as she realized she had bent over just enough to give the entire class an unobstructed view of her round, bare ass. A murmur rippled through the room, and she heard the unmistakable sound of someone stifling a laugh. She felt her face burn as she hastily wrapped the robe around herself, tying the belt with trembling hands.
The professor's voice was a gentle reprieve, calling the class to attention. "Alright, everyone, that's it for today. Remember to submit your best pieces for critique next week. Good work." The students began to pack up their things, the cacophony of voices and rustling papers filling the room once more. Riley didn't dare look at anyone as she stepped down from the platform, her eyes trained on the floor.
Her bare feet made soft slapping sounds against the cold tiles as she hurried to the back room, the robe barely concealing her nakedness. The door closed behind her with a soft click, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. She leaned against it, her chest heaving as she tried to regain her composure. The room was smaller, the walls seemingly closing in on her as the reality of what had just happened set in.
Her bag sat on a chair in the corner, the phone within it vibrating insistently. Riley's hand trembled as she reached for it, the screen illuminating the darkness with awhite glow. A text from Aria. The message was simple and to the point: "Your next masturbation session is now. Get to it." Riley felt a fresh wave of dread wash over her, but she knew better than to ignore the command. Her heart raced as she opened the camera app, the cold air of the room making her nipples tighten even more.
With a deep breath, she propped the phone against the edge of the mirror, angling it to capture her full body. The room was small and sparse, the only light coming from the single bulb above the sink casting harsh shadows across her form. She stepped back, dropping the robe to the floor. The fabric pooled around her feet like a dark cloud.
Her fingers trembled as they traveled down her body, tracing the same path that the professor's eyes had taken just moments ago. She touched her breasts, her nipples already hard with anticipation, and felt a jolt of arousal shoot straight to her core. Her thoughts were a tangled web of confusion and fear, but her body's response was undeniable. She squeezed her breasts lightly, watching her reflection as she did so, and felt a wetness begin to gather between her legs.
Her hand slid lower, down her stomach, and she paused for a moment before reaching her mound. She spread her legs slightly wider, giving herself a better view, and her eyes widened at the sight of her own arousal glistening in the harsh light. She could feel the heat of her own body, the need for release pulsing through her veins like a drug.
Her hand hovered over her pussy for a moment before she gave in, her fingertips brushing the sensitive skin. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she touched herself, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through her body. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the memory of the classroom, the feeling of their eyes on her.
But it was no use. The arousal that had been building within her during the class was too intense to ignore. Her breath grew shallow as she began to rub herself in slow, gentle circles, the pressure building with each pass. She could feel the wetness spreading, coating her fingertips as they moved over her swollen clit. The sound of her own moans echoed in the small room, the only sound other than the steady hum of the fluorescent lights above.
Riley's body moved of its own accord, her hips rocking slightly as she increased the tempo. She could feel the tension coiling tight within her, the beginnings of an orgasm she hadn't anticipated. The thought of being watched, of being forced to do this, only served to heighten her arousal. Her free hand clutched the edge of the sink, knuckles white with the effort of keeping herself upright.
But as the sensation grew, as her breathing turned to gasps and her muscles began to clench, she remembered the rule. The cold grip of fear replaced the warmth of her desire. She wasn't allowed to cum, not unless they told her to. Her eyes snapped open, staring into her own reflection as she bit down hard on her lip to muffle a whimper. Her hand stilled, her body protesting the sudden cessation of contact.
"No," she murmured to herself, "not yet." She took a deep, shuddering breath, willing her body to calm. It was a battle of wills, her desperate need for release against the iron grip of the rules that bound her. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her chest heaving as she fought back the waves of pleasure. She could feel the orgasm hovering just out of reach, taunting her.
Finally, with trembling hands, Riley picked up her phone and ended the recording. Her hand hovered over the 'send' button for a brief moment, the weight of the action heavy in the air. She knew what it meant: another piece of her dignity sent to her blackmailers. But she also knew there was no going back. With a deep breath, she hit send, watching as the video made its way to Ellie, Aria, and Claire. The moment the message disappeared from her screen, she felt a mix of relief and dread wash over her.
Quickly, she gathered her scattered clothes, her movements frantic as she tried to put herself back together. She stepped into her panties, the fabric feeling foreign against her still-sensitive skin. Her bra followed, the cups enveloping her breasts in a familiar embrace that was almost comforting after the vulnerability of being bare. She pulled her shirt over her head, the fabric sticking to her damp skin for a moment before falling into place. Her jeans were next, the denim rough against her smooth thighs, a stark reminder of the reality of her situation. She slipped on her shoes and grabbed her bag, the phone still heavy in her hand.
As she stepped out of the back room, she found James waiting for her, his own art supplies neatly packed away. His eyes met hers, and she knew he could see the fresh flush on her cheeks, the way her pupils were still dilated with arousal. He didn't say anything, just offered her a knowing smile, and she felt a blush spread across her chest. The silence between them was heavy with unspoken understanding. He knew what she had just done, and she knew he knew.
"Hey," he said finally, his voice gentle. "You okay?"
Riley looked up at him, her eyes glazed over with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. "I... I'm fine," she lied, her voice barely above a whisper.
James studied her for a moment before nodding, his gaze understanding. "You know, after a class like that, I always find that a good meal can help ground you," he said, his tone casual as if he hadn't just watched her perform an intimate act in front of a room full of strangers. "Would you like to grab something to eat?"
Riley's stomach rumbled, the sound echoing in the emptying classroom. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until that moment, and the thought of food was surprisingly appealing. She nodded, her voice still shaky. "Yes, please."
They walked out of the art building and into the cool evening air, the gentle buzz of campus life surrounding them like a balm to her frayed nerves. The sushi place James suggested was a small, dimly lit joint right by the college, known for its affordable prices and generous portions. The smell of wasabi and soy sauce wafted out the door, making her stomach growl again.
Inside, the restaurant was cozy, with a mix of booths and bar seating. The walls were adorned with paintings of fish and Japanese calligraphy, and the lighting was soft, casting a warm glow over everything. The chatter of students and the sizzle of food on the grill filled the air, creating a comforting cocoon of normalcy that she desperately craved.
They settled into a booth in the corner, and James ordered for them both. He was attentive, making sure she had everything she needed, his touch on her arm or her hand a gentle reminder that she wasn’t alone. Riley felt herself relax slightly, the weight of the past hour beginning to ease from her shoulders. She picked at her food, her thoughts still racing, her body still thrumming with the aftermath of her near-orgasm.
Their conversation was light, a deliberate attempt to steer clear of the tension that clung to her like a second skin. They talked about their classes, their plans for the weekend, and the latest gossip around campus. James' laugh was easy, the kind of laugh that made you want to lean in closer, to be part of whatever joke he was telling. It was infectious, and Riley found herself smiling despite her inner turmoil.
The food arrived, a platter of sushi rolls and a steaming bowl of ramen that made her mouth water. James had ordered a variety of dishes, ensuring that she had something she liked. She picked up her chopsticks, her hand still trembling slightly, and took a bite of a California roll. The taste of the cucumber and avocado melded with the salty fish was a welcome relief to the dryness in her mouth.
As they ate, their conversation grew more comfortable, the silence between them no longer charged with unspoken secrets. James talked about his latest art project, a sculpture that had been giving him a hard time, and Riley found herself getting lost in the details of his work, forgetting momentarily about the video she had just sent. The food was delicious, the company surprisingly comforting. For a brief moment, it was easy to pretend she was just a normal college student out with a friend, not someone being blackmailed into degrading acts.
They finished their meal, the plates empty except for a few grains of rice and a smear of wasabi. James reached for the check, his hand lingering over the leather wallet in his pocket for a moment before he pulled out some cash. He paid the bill, the clink of change and the rustle of paper a mundane sound in the otherwise chaotic symphony of her life.
Riley felt a genuine smile tug at the corners of her mouth as they stepped out into the cool evening air. The weight of the day's events had not disappeared entirely, but it had lifted just enough to allow a semblance of happiness to seep through. The night was clear, the stars twinkling like distant eyes watching over them. The gentle glow of streetlights cast a soft halo around James, making him look almost ethereal.
"Thank you for dinner," she murmured, her voice a soft caress in the quiet of the night. "It was really nice."
James looked at her, his eyes searching hers, the warmth of the restaurant's glow reflecting in his eyes. "You're welcome, Riley. Anytime." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper, scribbling something on it with a pen. "Here, take my number." He handed it to her, his thumb brushing against her palm in a gentle caress that sent a shiver up her spine. "If you ever want to do this again, or if you just need to talk, call me."
Her hand closed around the paper, the edges crinkling slightly with her trembling grip. The simple act of giving her his number felt like a lifeline thrown into a tumultuous sea. "Thank you," she whispered, tucking it into her pocket.
They walked back to the dorms, their footsteps echoing in the quiet night. The air was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth of the sushi restaurant, and Riley felt goosebumps rise on her arms. James noticed and offered her his jacket, his gesture so tender it almost brought tears to her eyes. She took it, the scent of him surrounding her, and slipped it on, feeling a little more protected from the cold.
As they approached her building, Riley felt the weight of the day's events settle back in. She paused, her hand on the door handle. "Thanks for everything," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
James looked at her, his expression gentle. "You don't have to thank me," he replied, taking a step closer. "But if you ever need anything, I'm here."
Riley felt a knot in her stomach, her thoughts racing. What would he think if he knew the truth? Would he still be so kind to her? The urge to confess was almost overwhelming, but she pushed it down. She couldn't risk it, not now. She managed a small smile. "I appreciate it."
James nodded, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back. "Good night, Riley."
Her eyes searched his, looking for any hint of what he might be thinking. All she saw was kindness and concern, and she felt a pang of regret for the secrets she was keeping from him. "Good night," she murmured before slipping inside the building, leaving him on the sidewalk.
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Bucket
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Re: The Unraveling (New 11/23)
Thanks for the new chapter, Emily! Can't wait to read the latest two!
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