He told me that as his live-in servant, I would do what he wanted me to do at any time of the day, whether that was sexual in nature or not. My penis ...old me to go for it. I wanted to be someone's sub. It didn't even matter to me that it meant a roof and shelter, either. I wanted a man to control me, order me around, punish me. In his last email before I met him, he sent me simple instructions on what to wear and how to act. He said:"Several things. 1) Wear a button down shirt, shorts, no. On my way back to my dorm I thought about him. I slowed down every motion, every face he made, and every stroke. He was special, this was something else. It was deeper, it was hotter, and the heat engulfed my whole body still. It was dinner time when we got back and while in the cafeteria I saw a familiar sight. It was him! He was eating with his bassist and the sun played in his hair and cheeks as he spoke. He was so gorgeous. I thought my knees would give out. I felt my breathing get. I lifted my knees, resting my feet on my desk as I worked my sex as mercilessly as I could, pounding now three fingers deep inside and slapping my clit with the palm. I let my head fall back, my mouth wide open as if I was wearing a ring gag like the girl in the story. With almost no warning, the orgasm hit me, washing over me like an electric current, my muscles locked and shaking, a strangled cry coming from my throat. I don’t know how long I sat there, my eyes closed, body shaking, pussy. The four of us had a notorious reputation in Cambridge as a very debauched libertine gang of roguesrouges. We called ourselves the "whore-mongers" and the "good" blue-blooded girls of Harvard had mostly shunned us like distasteful outcasts. We had gloried in this distinction.They were immediately impressed by my new living conditions. I gave them a quick tour, which terminated in the game room. There I had made a grand pronouncement introducing the day's festivities and had pulled a heavy wood.