Girl For The Goths

Girl for the Goths - part 1

Professor Jamison reached the end of his lecture early. Nobody was surprised. His style had been to parcel out a specific number of pages in the Journalism text and stop precisely when he finished the last bullet point on the last paragraph. He said it was a good discipline, both for them and for him.

Hannah was pretty certain that the discipline story was a cover for a tenured and burned-out prof doing the minimum he could to work through his last two years before retirement. She had nothing against Jamison personally. His credentials were solid and he had given her good advice early on about how to get past some structure problems she was having with her writing. Ultimately though, he was no more than a skilled technician. That was fine, in its place, but she was ambitious and eager to find a mentor who could teach her the ropes of her chosen field. And Jamison wasn't it.

As the students filed out of the mid-sized classroom, Hannah folded her notebook and dropped her pen into her bag. She was feeling anxious, excited, even slightly flushed. Today was Thursday and that was her night to go online. She felt a small charge of excitement while she pushed back the chair, then rose and started for the door.

"Did you get the name of the website he mentioned? The one that listed summer internships?" Hannah heard a voice behind her. She turned and saw Sharon, a 2nd year Sociology student who was sitting in on the Journalism class, probably looking at Hannah and the others as specimens in a laboratory.

Hannah disliked Sharon for a number of reasons, at least one of them being her sense that Hannah was her own private secretary. The biggest offense was that Sharon typically expressed an attitude of being above everyone else while also representing the sleaze factor on campus. Hannah had to admit the girl was gorgeous, though. She was one of the girls who many would describe as "Goths". She wore the required head-to-toe black gear, filmy and transparent in some places, leather tough in others. Her eyes were outlined with thick, black mascara, her hair was raven dark, and she always wore high-gloss jet-black lipstick.

She continued walking toward the door, responding to Sharon without turning her head. "No, Sharon, I didn't get that written down. I'm sorry, I'll try and pay more attention next time."

"Hey, I was just asking. You know, trying to be friendly?"

To Hannah, Sharon's level of pretense was both amazing and laughable. This woman was part of a small troupe of five, including an Amazon named Leslie who considered herself the leader. They had obviously been on the margins in high school and were trying to build some kind of life for themselves now that they were away from home.

"Well, be friendly somewhere else, I have to get home and study." Hannah saw the other four Goths in the hallway outside the classroom, obviously waiting for their friend so they could all head home and read depressing poetry to each other or listen to odd music or whatever it was they did besides drink blood and feel each other up. She walked past, making sure not to look anywhere near their direction.

Back in her dorm room, Hannah carefully placed her books in their places on her desk, then turned back and double-checked the door. She pushed the small button on the knob that locked it, then twisted the deadbolt into place. Her roommate, as usual, would be gone all night spending time with her boyfriend. On one hand it was a bit disappointing to not have the freshman year roommate she'd expected when coming to college. But on the other hand, having a room basically to herself did have its perks.

It took only a few minutes to strip herself completely, then another few to reach underneath the bed and find the box that contained her toys: a couple vibrators, a dildo, a couple small butt plugs, a twelve inch long wooden ruler, a small tube of lube and another of icy/hot, and an even dozen wooden clothespins. When she had first started her online explorations, Hannah had only owned one sex toy, a pathetic little silver bullet vibe she had found in the back section of a store at the mall. She'd nervously taken it up to the cash register, eyes down, blushing beet red, made her purchase, and then hurried out as quickly as she could. That little toy had served her well for a while but once she started really delving into her kinks she felt she'd need a better assortment and started to build up her collection.

She laid all of her toys out in a row on the desk, then sat down in the leather office chair she'd bought a week ago, a splurge that had mostly wiped out her bank account but was worth it to avoid using the uncomfortable wooden desk chairs provided in the dorms. As her naked cheeks and thighs pressed against the cool leather, she sucked in a quick breath then hissed it out slowly between her lips as she settled her small frame into the thick cushion.

Hannah's excitement grew when she opened Discord. He was online! She had worried that she'd have to wait until four o'clock, their normally scheduled time - but there he was. She took a couple calming breaths and then launched a call to him. She was almost unaware of the way her knees rocked back and forth, or the way she was moving closer to the screen, waiting to see his face come swimming up out of the monitor.

She had met him during the summer while she was vacationing at the beach. They'd both been drunk and dancing. The talk got wilder and wilder, the challenges kept coming, and by the time he took her back to his room to fuck her, she'd settled for nothing less than being tied spread eagle on the bed, whipped with his belt until the red welts on her ass felt like hellfire, then fucked by him and several of his friends for two days straight. They'd kept her drunk and tied up a lot of the time, probably out of fear that she'd change her mind and turn them in to the police. They needn't have worried, but of course they didn't know that.

That kind of abuse had been her fantasy for at least two years. She could trace it back to her finding an erotic fiction website and spending countless hours reading one story after another. While there were many different genres, Hannah kept finding herself drawn to the darker, more extreme stories.

The fuck-fest over the summer certainly was fun but these were kids who were drunk and having fun. They had no sense of creativity, no access to the depths of her mind, not even, from what she could see, a sense that they were doing anything more than playing a game they'd seen on a porn site.

Hannah had approached several online 'doms', but most of them had been amateurs. Few did much more than give her a spanking and wait for a blowjob. She kept coming back to the sessions with him because at least it was a connection to last summer. She'd close her eyes and try to remember what it was like on that bed, face down, belly and thighs in a pool of cum, nipples grinding against the starched cotton sheets.

"It isn't four o'clock," was the first thing she heard him say.

"No, we got out of class early."

"Well, I said four o'clock. And, like they say, what does a real sadist do when a masochist says 'beat me, beat me'? He says 'no'."

She saw the smile spread across his face. He reached for a beer, picked it up and took a long drink.

"See you tomorrow. At FOUR, do you understand?" he asked. She saw him reach his hand toward the camera and, before she could protest, he broke the connection.

"Bastard! Asshole!" she screamed, throwing the ruler across the room. She leaned her head forward into her hands and felt that there were actually tears coming from her eyes. Anger? Or something else?

There was an entire world out there, she knew. An entire subculture of men and women who did nothing but perfect their techniques for inflicting humiliation, pain, and abuse on willing victims. Naked bodies serving the every whims of masters and mistresses.. She knew that there were some kink groups in nearby areas and discord servers where she could talk to like-minded people. She also knew that there were phone sex lines she could try. In just minutes, she could be connected to a man or a woman who would put her through her paces, leading her from mild embarrassment and humiliation to the wall-shaking orgasms she craved. They charged by the minute but she could afford it. At least, she could afford a little of it.

Hannah closed the lid of the laptop, picked up her favorite vibrator and clothespins and walked to the bed. She closed her eyes and lightly dragged the fingernails of both hands over her belly. When she reached her small, 34B boobs, she scratched the undersides hard, then dragged her nails down across her stomach, over her hips, and down to her thighs. She pressed hard and slowly made her way back up again, feeling the biting drag of nails over flesh, until she found her fingers at her nipples. She flicked them lightly, then harder. It hurt and she stopped. Instead, she pinched them lightly, twisting the way some of the boys had back on that perfect weekend. She tried to imagine that the hands that were working her body belonged to one of the six-foot plus chunks of beef on the football team, the guys back in that summer hotel room, or even some random group using her for their pleasure. She felt her knees start to move, her legs spreading apart, feet pulling up closer to her ass, moisture building in her pussy. She took one of the clothespins and squeezed it open. She reached between her legs and attached it to her left pussy lip.

"Oww!" she squealed, throwing the clothespin across the room.

It was futile. She needed another pair of hands, or at least a surrogate giving her commands. Doing it all to herself just didn't work. There was no point going on, she was not going to be able to make herself cum.

Fuming with frustration, she gathered up her toys, put them back into their box, then shoved the box underneath the bed.

She looked at the clock. It was only four o'three. She'd gone through all of that in less than five minutes. Dinner wouldn't be until at least six, if she ate in the dining hall. By then, she'd go crazy if she didnt do something to work off this tension. She decided to head over to the campus field house and do a few laps around the pool.