cell phone slave pt 13 SeXStoRY

The first day wasn’t so bad. Amaya had a realistic view of the situation. Wesley had been controlling her life for close to two weeks. It was clear she was caught up in the excitement and the adventure of his kinky tasks. He must want to give her a cooling-off period so she could adjust to the idea of a longer relationship with him. It was a good idea. Although Wesley hadn’t said any of this in his note, it just seemed logical to Amaya. With this in mind, she relaxed on the first day. She attended her classes, ate out as she pleased and sketched a little in the afternoon and evening. After the trials of the library, a day off felt like a reward. Sure, fucking her own ass had been more fun than she would have thought, but the fear of getting caught and the ache in her ass were exhausting. For surrendering her ass’s virginity, she deserved a day off. The rest of the week wasn’t as restful. Chris came by once and asked her for another date. By the way he kept trying to step into her room, she had the feeling he wanted more than just a date. Amaya refused the date and refused him entry into her room as well as entry into any other part of her. Chris was stunned when she told him that she wanted to be friends but he didn’t really press it. He made a half hearted comment about staying in touch and left. When he left, Amaya’s emotions were conflicted. She was glad that she had broken up with him because it felt like she was solidifying her commitment to Wesley. On the other hand, it bothered her how little Chris seemed to be upset by the break-up. He wanted her enough to hit on her when he came to her door, but he backed down so quickly when she said she wanted to be friends. Shouldn’t he have tried harder? Did she want him to try harder for her own ego or because she still liked his cute smile and bright eyes? The day after Chris came to her room, she had an even worse encounter. She was standing in line at the campus bookstore when she saw Nick was working behind the counter. His face was locked into a neutral expression. Amaya smiled at him and was glad to see someone, anyone, who was connected to Wesley. “How are you doing?” she said. She laid down her notebooks and pens she was buying. “All right,” he said. That was it. She tried engaging him in conversation but he didn’t respond other than polite grunts. He didn’t even look sorry for not talking to her. As Amaya left the bookstore, the reality came to her. No one at Omega Epsilon Sigma was going to talk to her, ever. Sure, they might like her, but as long as Wesley was having nothing to do with her, they wouldn’t, either. Hell, they had already explained that they wouldn’t have anything to do with her even if Wesley were talking to her, but deep down she had thought she could work around that and be friends. Now the full f***e of the exile Wesley had imposed on her was coming to light. It didn’t stop her from masturbating about each and every one of them that night. For added fun, she took out the anal toy. She fucked her ass using every piece of advice she remembered from Wesley. It was so much easier this time around. She climaxed thinking of Wesley in her ass. The next week was much harder. Amaya had figured that a week’s absence would be enough time. She played imaginary conversations over and over in her mind of what Wesley would say to her when he calls. She prepared speeches where she explained how and why she was willing to do this kind of thing full time. Scenarios where Wesley demanded outrageous displays of bravery and kink ran through her mind and her masturbation fantasies. Every day that he didn’t call was a huge disappointment . This was a man who called every day to harass her. How could he take a second week off? Didn’t he need to control her like she needed to be controlled by him? Doubt crept into Amaya’s every thought as she wondered if Wesley might have grown bored with her. During the third week, Amaya suspected that she was being observed. There was no proof of it, but it eased her anxieties. Perhaps the reason he hadn’t called was because she was supposed to do something during this time off. She took solace in that idea and tried to figure out exactly what she was supposed to be learning. It was about this time that Amaya realized that it was important to her to succeed. She had completed every challenge Wesley laid out, and he said no one else ever had. The little fact was a huge source of pride for her. She felt special, unique and superior. How many other girls had failed where Amaya had thrived? It was important to her for Wesley to call her, but deep down, she began to wonder if it was more important that she succeed one more time. These thoughts were strange to her. Was it Wesley that she wanted, or was it the glory of being what others could not? When she first came to college, her roommate and all the crap Amaya went through had worn her confidence down. The way her boyfriend appeared to forget about her just compounded the feeling that she was nothing special. Now, though, after the ordeal of the cage, after sucking cocks in a bathroom and taking her own ass in a library, Amaya couldn’t imagine anyone doing the things she had done. When Amaya thought of the people she despised in her life, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was somehow superior to them. She’d like to see Chris take it up the ass in a public place! Conflicting feelings of ego and craving Wesley sent her online to searched for everything she could on domination and submission. There was a lot of information out there. It became her most important study topic as she dived into the Web pages and tried to sort out the good from the crap. Reading about domination didn’t ease her own desires, but it made her feel like she was achieving something. Most of what she found online was disappointing. Self-appointed gurus preached their own personal philosophies and spent as much time attacking other experts as they did explaining their own preferences. Amaya sorted through conflicting theories of what a real submissive wanted and came away frustrated. Several of them described the kind of bliss she felt when Wesley commanded her, and she was relieved to discover that she wasn’t unusual in her pleasures. On the other hand, too many sources said that Amaya wasn’t a real submissive unless she had absolutely no fear in doing the things Wesley required of her. At first, it made her doubt herself, but after a while, she wondered how many of these “experts” had any experience in what they did. Amaya had to wonder if half the things she had done for Wesley would have been as interesting if she hadn’t been scared. She joined a few chatrooms in search of education. What she learned was interesting but useless. For example, she discovered that submissives and dominants could be just as petty, jealous, full of gossip and annoying as normal people. There were a few nice people, but for the most part, the chatrooms were full of horny people looking to hook up. Amaya figured that must be human nature, but it was still disappointing. Where did Wesley go to find people like himself? Maybe that was why he was raising his own group of students. The fourth week came, and Amaya couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t shake the idea that Wesley hadn’t given up on her. Had she done something wrong? Was she not good enough at the fraternity house? Or maybe he was tired of her and this was his sick way of breaking up with her? It was too much to bear. She just had to know. On a Saturday, she called him. The line rang, and Amaya couldn’t go through with it. She hung up and took a deep breath. Maybe calling him would mess up her chances? How cruel would that be, if he had been going to call her but her own impatience made her unworthy? Two days later, she called again. She almost hung up on the third ring, but her finger hesitated. It kept ringing, and Amaya bit her lip. Ten rings passed and then twenty. Wesley never answered. Amaya sunk into a depression after that. Her schoolwork suffered, but she was one of those excellent students who could get by just on half-trying. She stopped eating, dragging herself to the cafeteria only when her hunger pangs became too loud to ignore. Only her painting flourished as she spent countless hours on melancholy scenes. They were some of the best pieces she had ever done. At some point during the second month, Amaya went a little crazy. She worried that Wesley might be watching her and waiting for her to do something that would signal she was worthy. Even worse, she started to doubt that she was worthy. She began to engage in reckless behavior even when she knew for a fact that Wesley couldn’t possibly be aware of her deeds. It started with simple things. She bought more thongs, the skimpier and tighter the better. They were a little too tight, and they distracted her constantly but she thought Wesley would approve. She neglected to wear a bra on most days, although she would blush constantly whenever she looked down and saw her nipples poking against her shirts. Sometimes, she would miscalculate how transparent her shirt would be in direct sunlight, and her breasts would feel illuminated under her flimsy shirts. As much as these situations would make her blush and squirm, Amaya resisted the urge to run back home and change clothes. She did it for Wesley. The little games of exhibitionism blossomed into more daring acts of devotion. She never pulled her shades down when she changed now. It didn’t take long for her to develop a small following in the rooms across from her window. She didn’t ever acknowledge the observers or look directly at them. It was hard enough to strip when they were there. Sometimes, she would glance over and see a huge crowd watching her, and she would freeze up. In the end, though, it was thoughts of Wesley that made her take off her bra or shimmy into a tight thong. After two weeks of stripping for her neighbors, Amaya sought new ways to prove herself. She made up rules for her classes, like clenching every time her biology teacher used the word “cell.” Her thong would get soaked so quickly that she would be gasping when she stood up. One day in history class, she upgraded to stroking herself every time her teacher used the word “ancient.” The darkness of the auditorium allowed her the privacy to reach between her thighs and stroke against her jeans, but she always felt like she was about to be discovered at any moment. That only heightened the aching arousal between her legs. When teasing was no longer enough, Amaya returned to the library basement. She wore a skirt with no underwear, and this time she brought the larger vibrator. In the sanctuary of the deserted basement, Amaya masturbated passionately at the same desk as before. At first, she sat in the chair with her skirt pulled down and her hands up under her skirt, but her increasing passion overrode her caution. Towards the end, she had her skirt pulled up to her waist with her sex exposed for anyone to see. She masturbated vigorously, fucking her sex with harshness and a urgency that was almost savage. When she climaxed, the moans she cried echoed through the basement and added to the strange sounds of the pipes. That same night, Amaya returned to her room and cried. It just wasn’t the same. She had done something she knew Wesley would have enjoyed, but it wasn’t at his insistence. Everything she did she had chosen to do. There was no fear to overcome, no impossible challenge that she had never considered. In the end, it was just as empty as masturbating was compared to real sex. She cried a lot that week. Tears dried and were replaced by angry screams. How dare he come into her life and just leave her? How dare he change her into someone who couldn’t enjoy a guy like Chris! It was easier to believe that Wesley had corrupted her than it was to believe that Wesley fulfilled something in her. In retaliation , Amaya stopped stripping in front of her windows. She bought real underwear that didn’t pull and tug on her ass. The masturbation games stopped, and she took to wearing bras again. The vibrators and paddle were tucked into her closet and forgotten. It wasn’t easy to do, but she even put the cell phone away in her dresser, not even bothering to take it with her anymore. One day, she finally received her financial aid. The check seemed so small compared to what she’d earned with Wesley. She cashed it and added it the large amount she already had. Later that night, she cried. It occurred to her that the final reason for obeying Wesley was gone, and that depressed her more than she was willing to admit. At this point, the semester was half over, and Amaya was swamped with her school work. As a freshman, she didn’t have that many major projects, but she did have quite a few reports to work on. She lapsed into a quiet routine. Eating, sl**ping, classes and research blended into a steady cycle of mundanity. She took comfort in the heavy workload. It was better to be busy than to wonder why the fuck Wesley had abandoned her. It didn’t mean she was immune to her urges. One day she rolled over in bed, and her underwear bunched up between her buttocks. Amaya groaned as she had a flashback of her thong days with Wesley. Sometimes, when someone else’s cell phone rang, she would feel her heart leap before realizing it wasn’t for her. Once she saw a guy playfully grab his girlfriend’s hair, and she moaned at the sight of the girl’s head jerking back. She tried to forget it the rest of the day, but it was the central image in her mind when she masturbated that night. Amaya was studying in her room when she heard a phone ring. She ignored it at first because it was so muffled, she assumed it was coming from one of her neighbors. It wasn’t ’til the third ring that she realized the sound was coming from her own room. She ran to her dresser and pulled out the ringing cell phone. Her hands were shaking. A large part of her was furious: How dare he call her when she had given up all hope? A tiny but desperate part of her begged her to answer before he changed his mind. “Hello,” she said in as cold a voice as she could muster. “Hello, Amaya. I’ve missed you,” Wesley said. “I’ve missed you, too,” she managed to choke out. “I know you have,” Wesley said. He was calm but she could hear the firmness in his voice. “It was an important test, however, and one that I had to see if you could endure.” “What? Being left alone wondering if you don’t give a shit about me? What kind of test is that?” If the anger in her voice upset Wesley, it didn’t show in his voice. He was calm and unapologetic. It was as if he was explaining how to make a bed. “It is a sad fact that sometimes in my life I cannot dedicate as much time as I would like to my hobbies. I am a busy man, and there are occasions when I am not spending every waking moment thinking about the woman I plan to fuck later. If you are to be with me full time, I need to know that you can handle being left to your own devices.” “You could have told me this,” Amaya said. “Yes. I could have,” Wesley said. “But in the future, when I have been too busy to play with you and you have been neglected for a week or two, you’ll look back on the hell you went through these last few months and realize that a week of neglect is nothing.” “But far more important, Amaya, is that you have grown in the last few weeks. When a submissive like you first discovers your urges, they fall into a mad kind of love. They accept anything and will do anything, even things they really don’t want to do. It would break my heart, Amaya, if you agreed to be everything for me but then months later realized this was not for you.” He made sense, but she was still pissed. It was ultimately a cruel thing to do, and she had to wonder if he picked the harder method just to push her. If he had told her that he was going to leave her alone for three months, she could have done it. But this, this depressed her, made her doubt herself and made her miserable for weeks. Wouldn’t it just be smarter to walk away now before he does something else to hurt her? “Which is why I did this. I wanted you to hurt, Amaya. I wanted you to hate me, and I wanted you to find out more about yourself. You are a very strong, beautiful, sexy woman, and I needed you to realize that. I needed you to have this time to think about what you really have to offer and what I can offer you. If you want, you can have nothing more to do with me, and I will allow the boys at the fraternity to date you. Have your pick of them, and I wish you happiness. Or go take your new self and find your own dom, one who won’t have the need to test and hurt you like this.” “No,” Amaya said. She wasn’t sure what she was refusing. Wesley continued speaking. “Or if you still have feelings for me, then tomorrow, you will go down to the stadium for the tailgate party,” he said. “Be in the parking lot at 8 in the morning, sharp. I will call you and give you further instructions.” Amaya was amazed at his confidence. She still wasn’t sure she had forgiven him. In all the times she imagined this phone call, she thought he would apologize and ask for her forgiveness. Instead, he explained himself without a trace of shame. Never did she imagine that he would just order her to another game. “All right, should I wear anything?” she asked. Wesley chuckled, and the sound of his laugh gave her shivers like it always did. “Nothing in particular. It won’t matter,” he said. “However, I would appreciate it if you wore your hair in a ponytail.” An envelope slid under her door, and Amaya’s heart race. Had he just put that there? Was he right outside her door? “You’ve handled this task well, Amaya. You’ve earned your reward.” He hung up. Amaya stood there in her room in a mess of emotions. Why had she agreed? She didn’t make any of the complaints or arguments that she had rehearsed so many times these past few weeks. It bugged her that she just gave in, but at the same time, there was no denying that thrill that was running through her. She felt sexy and alive again. Wesley was back, and he wanted her. She walked over to the envelope and opened it. There was no money this time but what was in there quickly dispelled all thoughts of cash. It was a silver necklace with a dark purple sapphire dangling from the center. The sapphire was so large that Amaya couldn’t begin to guess how much it cost. For all she knew, it could have been a fake gem, but she didn’t care. It was easily the most beautiful piece of jewelry she had ever owned. She sighed. Part of her felt bribed. The other part of her felt like she had earned this gorgeous necklace. She put it on and admired herself in the mirror. It looked great. In the end, what really mattered was that it was something Wesley bought for her. He had picked this for her, and she couldn’t help feeling special for it. It was time for bed. She put away her necklace and decided she would wear it tomorrow. The tailgate parties before the game were famous, but she had never felt compelled to go. Would the necklace be overdressing? She shrugged. There was no way she was going to not wear that necklace tomorrow. Before she went to bed, Amaya changed into one of her thongs.