His Best Student Ch. 01.5

Message from the author: Hi everyone! Sorry it's been so long. I've been on a writing tear recently and I figured that this part of the story can be uploaded while I get the other parts ready. This is a little under 2k words of what happens right after the events of the last chapter of His Best Student.

A quick summary: Eleanor is enrolled in Kellogg University where they force the all-female students to wear chastity belts and never touch themselves, and especially never to bring themselves to orgasm-or else. Punishments usually happen on stage for all to see but Eleanor's happened in her room just last night. Angry about this betrayal of the rules, Eleanor decides to go on a journey of retribution for this injustice... but not before she takes the opportunity to get herself off for the first time.

Enjoy!

What have I gotten myself into? The words appeared in her mind before she even opened her eyes. She didn't want to open her eyes. To face the morning, the advent of a new day which would cement the certainty and reality of last night just seemed like a bad idea; but, the sun was already staining her vision red from behind her eyelids, evaporating this thin fantasy. Cursed with a clockwork motor which kept her from lounging in bed too long, she groaned and opened her eyes.

The first thing she did was assess herself and her surroundings. It was like how car crash victims might mentally assess their body for injuries after a particularly nasty accident. She was under her blankets... she was naked... Completely. Fuck.

Suddenly she was up, scanning her room for her belt and saw it nowhere. Tearing off her blankets, she wasted no time rifling through her room. The only thing more fervent than her searching was the internal litany of curses she hailed on Call and Hendricks. She stewed in her hatred as she upturned every possible place that could hide the unwieldy thing.

Were they fucking with her and had hidden it? Were they trying to get her punished again? Most likely, she thought darkly, as she felt a flutter in her chest. Anything was possible now. No one was following the rules anymore.

Falling to her knees, she allowed herself for a moment to dwell in the situation she was now in. She closed her eyes. Not twelve hours before, she was staring down another year of the same: good behavior, good grades, straight path to graduation. Now there was a real chance she'd be seeing much more of Call-and possibly Hendricks. She grasped the roots of her hair with her finger tips to try and ground herself, but the familiar feeling forced a flash in her mind's eye of Hendricks grasping her hair to get better access to her mouth.

Opening her eyes, she scanned her room once again. Then, clarity: if they had simply just left it in haste to punish her, then it should be near the bed. She crawled back over to her bed and spotted it just underneath, all rigid semicircles. Almost crying in relief-she had really considered whether they had stolen it and who knows what she may have to do to get it back-she held it in her hands and started putting it back on. They probably would lord it over her as another excuse to get to use her body again. But as she was stepping into one of the leg holes of the belt, she paused.

What would it matter, if the belt had already been off for-she checked the clock-at least eight hours? Like a sleepwalker, she sat on her bed, eyes unseeing. This was an opportunity that would likely never present itself again.

As if possessed, she laid back down in her bed, eyes wide toward the ceiling. Pleading, she would have probably described them, if she could see herself. Though she came already last night, she needed unfettered access to herself.

Deciding to make the most of it, she stretched languorously, like a cat in a warm sunbeam, hands ending in her hair, pleasurably teasing the roots. One hand left her hair and traveled down her body; she delighted in the touch of her body, especially her hips. Where usually she could only feel unyielding metal warmed by her own skin, she now was able to feel the way her body existed naturally, in its most primal state. The belt had made her naked body thrilling in a way that she had never thought of it before. It was the softness of her body she loved the most, she decided: the cushion of fat and the smoothness of her skin.

Finally, the soft thatch of her dark pubic hair greeted her fingertips, but her fingers stopped there. Three years of conditioning could do that to a person, she realized, stop them from taking what was their own. In this moment of stasis, her fingers absently played with the hair between her legs. It wasn't the conditioning or the fear that she had endured for three years that made her stop, in fact, this was simply an excuse to draw it out further, and to exist in her body again.

Slowly, she let herself spread her legs a bit. No rules, anymore, she reminded herself as she brought her other hand down and rolled her left nipple in her fingers. Cold air hit the pad of her tongue as she took a breath in, remembering the feeling of Call's warm, rigid length pushing into her mouth.

After some time panting and teasing herself by playing with her breasts, Eleanor realized that she had never actually masturbated to completion before. The tentativeness she was feeling in this moment wasn't just the conditioning of a chastity belt at all times, but an admission of her naivete, her utter incompetency in regards to her own body. But Hendricks and Call had shown her last night what to do.

Her timid fingers traveled over her mound and touched her clit. How had Hendricks done it? She rubbed in circles, she rubbed up and down. Nothing was happening and she was about to give up when she remembered his fingers had started at the base of her pussy. Touching herself lower, she was surprised how wet she was. Then, a startling reminder: her professor had bred her last night, and this was probably his cum. Her involuntary blush embarrassed and infuriated her. How dare he make her ashamed of her own body, make her feel like it wasn't hers to do with as she pleased? Anger spurred her on in her quest.

Now with her fingers lubricated with both of their fluids, she brought it up to the base of her cit and started rubbing. Now it began to pebble under her finger and it became the increasingly sensitive nub that had defied and betrayed her last night. Seemingly in answer to her fury, blood rushed to her genitals, growing hot and swollen. It was impressive how much her clit strained to be touched, and how much more she could feel the more turgid it became. At the very top of her pussy, where the clit hood began, she marveled as she dragged her finger down it. The most pleasurable tingle she had ever felt surged from the organ and caused her back to involuntarily arch up. It was almost too much, now, the more she rubbed, but she was going to do this no matter what now.

She wasn't sure when exactly she began to imagine how she looked from above, even though that's what had eventually sent her over the edge. Imaging herself in the eye of a camera on her ceiling, she knew what it would be able to record: her naked body, it's heat making her pussy a feverish pink as she furiously fingered herself, legs spread wide open in abandon, using the cum of her professor to lubricate and facilitate the quickness of her fingers as she ramped it up. The familiar crest and fall of pleasure embraced her and she smiled. This feeling was now familiar. They couldn't keep this from her anymore.

Were there cameras in the room? Microphones? Were Hendricks and Call watching her right now? Hearing her? They'd see everything. They'd see that she didn't hesitate once her fingers were rubbing her wet, hot sex, and that she'd only gone further, deeper into the pleasure. If there really were microphones, she knew they would hear it when she opened her mouth wide and let out a loud and satisfied moan. She wanted to make sure that, if they truly were able to watch or hear her, they'd be able to see and hear how aroused she was.

Wetness slithered down her pussy onto the bed; she'd leave a spot later to mark her retaliation. It was close now, she could feel her pussy snapping. She hoped they were looking, that they could hear her. God, she needed it. The swelling and tensing of her vaginal walls had forced out some of Hendricks' cum. Were the cameras good enough to catch her leaking everywhere? The cum covering her pussy? More warmth crowned at her entrance, spilled over, and she came. Moaning felt like a release valve as her cunt tensed and spasmed under the relentless stimulation of her fingers. She just let herself get louder and louder, begging to be heard and seen.

The strength of her orgasm faded as she lay still in bed, legs now lazily spread and fingers playing with the wetness that had gathered at the bottom of her pussy. She looked around her room, in the corners and the ceiling for any signs of surveillance but could find none. She felt deflated.

There was probably worse that could be done to her than what happened last night. Anxiety, sharp and cold, reemerged in her. She could masturbate in retaliation all she wanted but she knew it was more symbolic than practical. There may never be a real way to regain the meticulous and strident control she had imposed on herself; if these men wanted her, they could have her.

You're a sanctimonious little bitch who thinks she's better than everyone else, but you're only that haughty because you don't know who you are... You're a little slut begging for attention. Don't think I didn't notice you, the way that you look at me.

She could hear his words now, remembering how hot his urgent breath had been against her ear as he thrust into her. Shame caused her eyes to pinprick with tears. If they were watching, could they see them?

She pressed the bottom of her palms into her closed eyes, watching the trippy kaleidoscope shapes dance in the dark. Something bad was about to happen, she could tell.

The tears now pushed back, she promptly got up, and like a bull about to gore their victim she pushed the desk they had taken her on into the wall with a furious shriek, leaving a dent. Almost surprised that hadn't abated her apoplectic anger, she took another breath and with it, screamed as she tore the pillow, sheets, and mattress off her bed and flung them to the ground and toppled the bed over on its side. She picked up a salt lamp from the desk and threw it against the wall, tearing an actual hole into it. Every time she ran out of breath she gulped in more air to fuel her continued howl of fury.

Punish me, punish me, punish me; the litany pulsed inside her like a contorted heartbeat. With the curious meticulousness of an asshole boyfriend, she was careful in her rage that she didn't destroy anything that was hers. All school property. When she was poised to throw her chair through the window at the apex of her frenzy, she mercifully was able to stop herself before going through with it. There was, after all, a limit to the extent this was useful.

Slamming the office chair down, the wheels spun crazily as she put her chastity belt back on-old habits die hard-got dressed, and rushed out the door, still livid, but now with purpose. She would find them, and she would make them pay. She would get answers, yes, she would show them that they were not in charge of her. She would go through the whole rest of the school year unmolested-in every sense of the word-and make them regret the day they fucked with Eleanor Hale.