He pushed my head forward, still holding my waist, and I put my arm against the wall for balance.
"Don't move."
He stepped away and picked something up, stood behind me, and I gasped as I felt the cold drizzle of lubricant on my anus.
Something pushed against me. Not a finger, some kind of dildo. It felt too large to fit, and it widened as it pressed into me, and then it sort of slid in and stayed there. I felt uncomfortably full. This was... not hot. It was just gross: There was something in my ass.
"You've never used a plug like this before, have you? Don't let it fall out. Now stand up."
I stood up, and felt the plug move, clenched my cheeks to keep it inside me.
"Listen carefully, because I want you to do exactly as I say. Get dressed and go back to your dorm. Leave the plug in as you walk back. If it slips out, put it in again. You can take it out when you get there, but I want you to wear it for a half-hour tomorrow morning, and a half-hour tomorrow afternoon. No jerking off, no coming -- just put it in and stretch out that asshole for me. And I want you back here at ten tomorrow night."
"Why are you still here? And why are you still naked? Get dressed."
I bent over to pick up my pants, and the plug squirted out of my ass and hit the floor. I finally saw it: Purple, flanged at the bottom, and it didn't look as large as it had felt.
"Pick it up, whore."
I'd never been called a whore before. But here I was, lifting a purple butt-plug off the floor, slick and warm from my own asshole, knowing I'd have to cram it back in. I reached behind me and pushed, but it didn't seem to want to go in.
"You'll want to squat down a little."
I squatted, and pushed, and gasped as it went back in, pushing against my prostate, and feeling, this time, a little sexy. Then I got dressed, clenching carefully to keep it from falling out. He gave me a small tube of lubricant for the plug, and opened the door, slapping my ass as I left.
As I walked down the hall, it seemed like the dorm-mates I passed were giving me knowing looks, but I shrugged it off. I felt like I was walking funny, but I wasn't walking THAT funny, just a little slow. I was feeling guilty, and ashamed, and even though I'd wiped the come off my face I still felt sticky and obvious, but I was pretty sure I wasn't. I definitely needed another shower, though, at least so I could wash the butt-plug off: I couldn't wash it in the common sink, and risk being seen by the other people on the hall.
Halfway across campus, I started going up a flight of stairs and the plug came out, staying in my underwear. It was a relief to be able to walk properly, and I reached the top of the stairs before remembering Erik's instructions. I looked around furtively, then reached into my pants and crammed it back inside.
That's when it hit me: Erik wasn't even there to check. I was doing this because I wanted to, just like he said.
Back at the dorm, showered, with the plug hidden safely in my own sock drawer, I fell asleep faster than I'd expected.
The next day, my roommate had classes in the morning, and I didn't, so I had the room to myself. I made sure the door was locked, stripped and got out the plug. It didn't look so big. I sniffed it-- I'd washed it off well last night, so it didn't smell like shit. Still. It was dirty by definition. I rolled it around in my hand before realizing that what I wanted to do was put it in my mouth. I sucked on it, getting it wet with my saliva, remembering Erik's cock in my mouth.
Sitting on my bed, I rolled back a little and lifted my legs, I drizzled the toy with lube and rubbed some more on my asshole, fingering myself, getting hard, getting ready to fuck myself. Getting ready to break my promise not to masturbate all day. Which wouldn't normally be a huge promise-- I usually did it at least once a day, but there were plenty of days when I didn't, when I was too busy or just didn't feel horny. But here I was, with the room to myself all morning, an enormous erection, lubricant all over my hands and my cock and my asshole, somehow thinking I would manage to not jerk off.
I put the tip of the toy against my ass and pushed. It felt harder to get in this time, I guess because last night I'd already been stretched out and ready. Still, I pushed again and it went in. This time it felt good, and when it pressed against me the right way, it felt like it was pushing more pre-come out of my cock, which by now was positively drooling with it. I gave my cock a couple of experimental tugs, and the sensation was incredible, especially if I rocked myself forward, sitting on the base of the plug.
Erik's words echoed in my head: Don't come until I say. Get dressed.
So, I got dressed, holding the plug against my ass until I could put on pants and underwear. It was nine thirty. I had homework to do before my afternoon classes, and if I could focus on that, I could avoid jerking off and still wear the plug like I'd been ordered. Still, with my ass wet and full, and my cock hard and drooling, I knew that Erik had been right: I was going to beg him to fuck me.
After the allotted half-hour, I got undressed again, wrapped a towel around myself, and walked carefully to the bathroom to shower. I knew the hall would be empty, but it still felt like a huge risk: A barely concealed hardon and a sex toy in my ass, and I was walking down the hall in flip-flops and a towel carrying a bar of soap. Our bathrooms, like our dorms, were co-ed, and I wasn't sure whether I was more afraid of a girl seeing me, or a guy.
But like I said: I had known nobody would be in the hall: Everyone with morning classes was at them, and everyone with afternoon classes was asleep, and I had the bathroom to myself. The only surprise was how hard it was not to masturbate right there in the shower. In the afternoon, after classes, it was a little easier to avoid: My roommate was in, and there were people awake and about all over the place. I still managed to slip into the bathroom with the toy and the lube, slide it in, and keep it there for a half-hour, then wash it off surreptitiously in the sink.
As the hours ticked toward the time I was supposed to meet Erik I found I could barely sit still. Even my roommate noticed, and complained, that I kept getting up and pacing around the room. I apologized and left, thinking I would walk around campus. Of course, I wound up over at Lincoln Hall, about fifteen minutes early. I wandered into the common area, unsure whether I should be there early, unsure whether to wait there or go to his room, or what. You'd think I would have wanted to run away, or just not come back, but I didn't even consider it. I wasn't thinking really clearly at all, in fact. If I had tried to sort it all out my head would have exploded from the confusion: I'd thought I was straight until two days ago, and here I was, showing up at an upperclassman's dorm with a hardon and hoping I'd get fucked.
A girl I'd seen the night before was sitting outside, and she looked at me and smiled reassuringly.
"Aren't you Erik's new protege?" she asked.
Well, maybe that smile wasn't so reassuring. Was she staring at my crotch? Was my hardon that obvious?
"I ... I guess?" I said, blushing.
"Awww, and shy, too. Well, go on then, he's in his room."
Although I'd forgotten it the first night I saw Erik, I was suddenly reminded of the fact that secrets don't keep well in a dorm. Other people on my hall would play loud music when they were having sex, so people couldn't hear them, but everyone knew what they were up to. Erik hadn't put on any music.
Confused and embarrassed, but still aroused, I walked down the hall. Erik's room was only a couple doors past, and his door was open. He was sitting at his desk, wearing a pair of jeans, but no shoes or shirt. He got up as I came in and came to the door. "Hey, you're early! Do me a favor and take off your shoes before you come in?"
I knelt down and untied my shoes, and he stood close to me, closer than someone would normally stand to a guest, with his crotch right in front of my face. I didn't dare look up but I wondered if he was already hard like I was.
With my shoes off I stood up.
"And your pants, too," he said, softly.
I hesitated.
"I know you heard me."
I looked up and down the hall. Nobody there, but the common room was really close, and anyone could come in and see before I'd have time to hide.
"I said, strip. Now." He wasn't loud, but he wasn't exactly whispering either, and I was afraid that the girl who smirked at me earlier would be able to hear the whole thing clearly.
Red with shame and, yes, acutely aware of how turned on that shame made me, I shucked off my jeans as fast as I could, and he let me in.
Shutting the door behind us, he asked, quietly again, "So, did you do what I said?"
"Yes."
He stepped toward me, embracing me and smelling my neck and biting it gently, then grabbed my ass, pushing his crotch into mine. His fingers were searching insistently for my asshole, still slick from the afternoon session with the butt-plug. I couldn't move. He wiggled a finger inside easily, and I moaned quietly.
"Dirty boy! Are you ready to be my slut?"
