Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 22

For a long time afterward she remained silent, staring down as if entranced at the blotter on her desk. Looking over her shoulder I saw several dark patches on it, and I realized they had been made by drool from her mouth. And when I withdrew my cock from her behind she quickly turned and sat on the blotter, holding her buttocks apart, allowing my semen to drip out of her to join the other stains there. I got a picture of her doing that, then she had me take one of her standing in front of her desk—still wearing her shiny black shoes and lacey socks, ruffled pink panties half-way down her thighs—and holding up the blotter, glistening with various stains, like an award. And even though the stains became almost invisible when dry she took the blotter when we left

When we got back to her room she took a marker and circled the stained areas on the blotter, then thumbtacked it to the inside of her closet door. The panties she'd worn on other occasions were no longer hanging there, and she told me that she had run out of room so she'd gone out and bought the largest scrapbook she could find and transferred them to that. She showed it to me: each pair of panties was now fastened—and she had sewed them in by hand—to a page of black paper and had a small white label below them, giving the date and a short summary, such as, "9/17/04 (My room): 'Miss Santiago' punished for stealing—Forced to crawl down the hallway and back in these, then to suck Jonathan's cock in front of my doorway—He came on my face" or "9/26/04 (Jonathan's room): Tied up, forced to lick out Jonathan's nasty underwear, electric toothbrush in my pussy. Bent over a chair, made to wet these and then fucked in the ass.'

She had even gone back and added the white cotton panties she'd been wearing during our first encounter. She'd put them on the very first page, along with a label, which read, "9/16/04 (Near the reservoir): Jonathan pulled these down and licked me – I rubbed his cock with them and let him come in my mouth." The later entries were followed by printouts of the pictures I'd taken of her.

Which gave me an idea. I gave her the camera and told her to keep it with her at all times—without telling her why.

Then in the next few days I started sending instructions by email. For example: "This morning at 10:45 you'll pretend to drop a pencil behind your desk. When you get down to look for it I want you to put your hand between your legs and rub yourself for at least 30 seconds. Use the camera to document it." And when I'd get back to my room in the late afternoon the pictures would be in my email. On the occasion mentioned above there was only a single shot, apparently taken from under her desk. It was shaky and badly composed because of being taken with the camera held out in front of her in one hand. It was taken from inside the recessed area beneath the desk and showed Carol crouched down behind it. Her eyes were just visible below the upper edge, and she appeared to be looking anxiously at the camera as if to make sure it was pointed properly. Her skirt was hitched up nearly to her waist, her knees were wide apart and her right hand was pressing against the crotch of her panties.

Another day I left the following message: "Wear the vibrator over your panties today. Carry the control in your purse and turn it on between all of your classes and all through your lunch break. At the end of the day go into the bathroom and take off the vibrator. Then take off your panties and lick out the crotch. Then put your panties in your mouth and walk home. Make eye contact with at least three people and smile at them."

The pictures I received later that day began with a series taken in a stall in the bathroom. The first was taken from as far away as she could reach with her arm—which meant she had to straddle the toilet to take it—showing her holding up her dress to expose the vibrator. The second was a close-up, without the vibrator, showing just her panties—purple with huge red and yellow polka dots—and the wet stain in the crotch. Next was a shot of the same panties, but down around her knees, followed by a more distant shot of the same thing, showing herself still holding up her dress. Then a series of close-up shots of her face, showing her looking straight into the camera with her tongue out as she licked the crotch of her panties, inside and out. A shot of her with the panties stuffed into her open mouth. Several shots of people outside, mostly looking at the camera with a puzzled expression. And a final shot of her back in her room, smiling and holding up the panties, wrinkled and damp from being in her mouth.

She would send requests to me as well: "I'll be under our usual table in the dining hall at 1:00. Banana pudding for dessert today—I want to lick it off your cock." Or: "I have to go to the library tonight. Please come and make me rub you with my panties."

She had of course long since gone through all the 'little-girl' panties' I'd had her buy, since she usually only wore them for me once before adding them to her scrapbook. I'd told her she could go back to wearing regular underwear if she wanted to but she'd decided she liked them—liked the combination of innocence and sexual submission. She'd bought more on her own, and often would email me pictures of others she'd found on the internet or scanned from catalogues, asking for my approval before buying them, accompanied by little notes like, "Would you like to see these when you make me take off my clothes for you?" or, "How do you think these would look in my mouth?" Or "Anyone who'd wear these deserves to be spanked, don't you think?" or "I'd love to rub your cock with these and then lick your come out of them."

Of course now that she was taking birth control pills she often found reasons to have me inside her. "Miss Santiago' was brought back for an encore more than once, with the difference that after the usual preliminaries instead of crawling down the hall she was forced to strip naked and either straddle my cock as I sat in her chair or bend over her desk and be taken from behind.

But there were often new and sometimes unexpected discoveries to be made as our erotic obsession with each other deepened. For example, the night she had me meet her at the bus stop outside her dormitory. It was October and the nights were getting cold, and when I saw her she was wearing calf-length black boots and a black cloth coat that came down to her knees. She was wearing her glasses and carrying some books and looked very studious.