She was always so clumsy with her mobile phone – it was only a matter of time before she made a terrible mistake.

Today was that day. She had meant to email her final assignment for her Ethics assignment to Professor Cole, but instead she had sent a video of herself nude and masturbating. She had filmed it for her last boyfriend six months ago, and she should have deleted it by now – but she hadn’t, and now she had forwarded it straight to her teacher.

She hadn’t even realised her mistake until Professor Cole had contacted her. “That video was very amusing, Bridgitte,” he’d said, smiling. “But you would have been better off submitting the assignment. It’s 50% of your total mark, so now you’re going to fail the unit.” He had paused, then continued. “And I’m tempted to submit the video as evidence of an attempted bribe, and have you expelled.”

Mortified, Bridgitte had explained her mistake, and pleaded with the professor to have mercy.

“I’ll tell you what, Bridgitte,” said Professor Cole, smiling evilly. “I’ve had a very close look at this video you sent me, and it seems to me that girl in that video is a slut, of the most whorish kind. But” – and he paused for emphasis – “she is a very *pretty* slut, and I believe I would like to see more of her.”

Bridgitte shivered. The professor’s smile sent cold, ominous dread with her – but also provoked a quite unexpected shiver between her legs, and not at all cold one.

Cole continued. “Now, this *is* an Ethics course. We study the decisions that people make in difficult circumstances, which I think is an area of interest to both of us.” He looked at her with piercing eyes. “I think there may be room to offer you an alternate form of assessment, Bridgitte. I propose that you and I go on a date tomorrow night, to a certain restaurant that I enjoy. Over the course of the date, I’ll offer you a series of choices, and you must pick one of each set of options. If you’re a pleasant companion for the evening, and make a choice every time you’re offered one, I’ll give you an A grade for the unit and delete the video.”

He paused to remove his glasses, clean them, and then place them back on his nose. “But if you don’t show up, Bridgitte – or if you’re unpleasant, or if you fail to make a choice, I will fail you for the unit, have you expelled, and upload this video to the internet with your name attached.” He smiled again. “How does that sound?”

It sounded terrible, Bridgitte thought. It sounded creepy and weird. (It sounded *interesting*, said her pussy, but she ignored its traitorous input.) Many girls had had to put up with lecherous professors in order to get their degrees. She could handle a simple dinner with this creep.

And in any case, she had no choice. “I’ll go on the date,” she said, sullenly. Professor Cole wasn’t too bad looking, and she supposed he could actually be quite charming – how bad could one evening in a restaurant be?


She got her first idea how bad it might be late the next afternoon, when a package arrived at her dorm. Inside was a box, and a note, that read, “Your first choice – wear one of these to our date. You can pick which.”

Inside the box were two items. One was a thin white shirt – far too tight for her generous bust – with the word “RAPETOY” written across the front in bright red letters. The other was – she realised, to her horror – a vibrating clitoris clamp. It was designed to clamp onto her clitoris, and buzz every 10 seconds or so.

She put the clamp aside immediately, and tried on the shirt dubiously. As she feared, it really was too small for her. It stretched across her large breasts lewdly, showing every curve, even if she wore a bra, and it was so thin that it was basically transparent. She wasn’t sure if the word “RAPETOY” called attention to her tits, or her tits called attention to the lettering, but either way she blushed bright red to look at herself in a mirror. She thought of going out in public like this, and couldn’t bear the idea.

But her other choice was the clamp – which was unappealing, but on the other hand, nobody would be able to see it….

She decided to experiment with it. She stripped, sat on the edge of her bed, spread her legs, and tried to apply it to her puss. At first it was difficult to get her clitoris to stick out enough for her to attach the clamp, but after five minutes or so of teasing her labia, rubbing at her cuntflesh, and pinching her clitoris, she found she was becoming quite aroused, and as her clitoris engorged, it became big enough to get the clamp onto. 

Of course, the clamp was painful – she yelped as its jaws bit down on her tender clitoris – but in her aroused state it also felt kind of good. And it felt even better a moment later, when she turned on the vibrating element and felt it begin to transmit its maddening buzzing directly into her clit.

When she stood up, she had to bite her lip as her clit took the full weight of the clamp, and the buzzing capsule took its natural position hanging against the entrance to her vagina, gently teasing her fuckhole whenever her movement pushed it against her cuntflesh.

She knew she would feel like a whore, wearing a clitoris clamp in public, and she could already tell that the pain and the vibration were going to be distracting – but nobody except her would know it was there. Well, except her and Professor Cole. She dressed for her date in pretty pink underwear, an elegant purple dress, and high heels, and headed out for her date.

The restaurant was expensive and fashionable, and Professor Cole looked very attractive in a suit and tie, seated at a table near the corner. Bridgitte was still blushing a little from the knowledge of the clamp attached to her pussy – and from the effect it was having as it buzzed against her clit – but she thought the rest of the evening might actually be okay. 

“Hello, Bridgitte,” said Cole, smiling charmingly as Bridgitte took her seat. “I see you chose not to wear the shirt I sent you. Why don’t you tell me what you *are* wearing, and how you’re wearing it?”

Bridgitte blushed. She thought about not responding, but she had no doubt that Professor Cole would happily have her expelled if she didn’t play along. “I have a vibrating capsule…” she began, in a small voice.

“Louder, Bridgitte,” said Professor Cole. “I can’t hear you.”

“I have a vibrating capsule attached to my clitoris by a metal clamp,” said Bridgitte, louder, blushing furiously and looking around to see if anyone had heard. It did not appear anyone had. The next closest diners were a couple of tables away, and no waiter had yet attended on them.

“Good girl,” said Professor Cole. “Well, then, let’s move on to your first choice, shall we? You may either remove your bra, or remove your shoes. Either way, you will pass what you remove to me, for me to look after.”

This wasn’t so bad, Bridgitte thought. “My shoes, of course,” she said, although really it wouldn’t have been too embarrassing to remove her bra. She kicked off her high heels, and pushed them under the table to Professor Cole, who smiled, picked them up, and placed them in a black leather bag beside his chair.

She had thought she wouldn’t care about removing her shoes, but now they were gone, she began to have second thoughts. There was something strange about being barefoot in a public place, like she was under-dressed. The wooden floor of the restaurant was cold against her feet. She felt a sudden nervousness, like someone was going to ask her why she wasn’t wearing shoes, and be disgusted with her.

It was silly. She ignored it, and looked at the Professor. “Shall we order?” she said brightly.

“Absolutely,” said the Professor.

They called over a waiter – who thankfully didn’t seem to notice Bridgitte’s lack of shoes – and Cole ordered for both of them. He ordered a steak for himself, and for Bridgitte:

“A sampler of your German sausages for the lady,” said Cole.

“Sausages, sir?” asked the waiter.

“Oh yes. The lady just loves putting sausage in her mouth,” said Cole.  

Bridgitte went bright red with shock. The crudeness of the joke took her by surprise. How dare he! He couldn’t just insult her like that in public! 

But of course he could. And she knew that blushing was just calling attention to what had been said, but she couldn’t help herself.

The waiter’s mouth twitched in a hint of a smile. “Very good, sir,” he said, and took their menus and left.

“Must you humiliate me?” asked Bridgitte, furious.

“Oh, yes,” said Cole. “I must. Time for your second choice, little pet. You can take off your panties, and lay them flat on the table next to your water glass, or you can rub your pussy through your panties from now until you taste your first bite of your dinner.”

Bridgitte gasped. “I can’t!” she hissed.

“You can,” said Cole. “Or you can leave now, and I’ll do what I said I’d do.”

Bridgitte fumed, paralysed with indecision.

“You have until the count of 10 to decide, pet,” said Cole.

She didn’t like either of the choices, but she couldn’t sit here and masturbate. She’d still be masturbating when the waiter returned, and even if she was doing it very furtively, he’d notice. She pictured looking into the smirking waiter’s face as she fingered her pussy, trying to pretend she wasn’t acting like a slut…

“Fine,” she said. “My panties. I’ll be right back.” She began to stand, to go to the bathrooms.

“No one said anything about going anywhere,” said Cole. “Right here will do.”

Her eyes bulged. She sat back down, took two deep breaths, looked around to see if anyone was looking at her – they weren’t – and then quickly put her hands under her dress hem, hooked the waistband of her panties, and pulled them down her legs. 

“On the table,” Cole reminded her.

Bridgitte blushed again, and laid the panties flat on the table, next to her glass of water. They were pink, and lacy, and although small, took up a reasonable portion of the table. They were incredibly visible.

Cole doubled Bridgitte’s embarrassment by immediately calling the waiter back. The waiter returned, saw the panties, and then very deliberately looked at Bridgitte.

Bridgitte blushed crimson, avoided eye contact, and wished she were dead.

“The lady has decided she needs a drink,” said Cole. “Something that suits her, she said. Tell me – what would be your sluttiest cocktail?”

Bridgitte opened her mouth, wanting to object, and then closed it again. She stared daggers at Cole.

The waiter chuckled. “Well, the teen girls who order it give it another name, but it makes women drunk, horny, and dumb, so the bar staff call it the ‘Rape My Stupid Bimbo Cunt’. It’s Jägermeister, Midori and wine. It tastes foul, it’s trashy, and it gets you drunk exceptionally fast. Or alternatively, the little rich girls with daddy issues like to buy what we call the ‘I Want To Give My Daddy A Blowjob’, which is Bailey’s, gin and vodka. Also foul, and very alcoholic.”

Cole smiled. “Yes, they both sound like they will suit the young lady perfectly.” He looked at Bridgitte. “Bridgitte, why don’t you tell the waiter which one of those you’d like to drink? Just the name of the cocktail will do.”

Bridgitte opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She whimpered, and blushed – the clamp on her clit chose that moment to start vibrating again – and tried for a second time.

“Rape My Stupid Bimbo Cunt,” she said, in a hoarse whisper.

Both Cole and the waiter acted like they hadn’t heard her, so she made a moan of unhappiness, and repeated herself, louder. “Rape My Stupid Bimbo Cunt.”

“A Stupid Bimbo Cunt it is,” said the waiter, and left, although Bridgitte wasn’t sure if the “it” referred to her order, or to herself.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Bridgitte?” asked Cole.

“No,” said Bridgitte, sullenly.

“That’s a shame. How about your cunt? Is your cunt enjoying itself, Bridgitte?”

She opened her mouth to say “no”, and then paused. It was only now that she realised that she was actually incredibly wet. All the blushing had distracted her from the fact that she was naturally flushed. Her nipples were hard, and she was worried she was leaving a wet patch on the back of her dress where it lay between her pussy and the chair. 

“No,” she said anyway, having no intention of admitting her arousal to Professor Cole. She tried to get control of herself. Why was she wet? It was just the vibrator, right? Internally, she tried to send messages to her pussy to calm down, dry up, to be sensible and dignified. It didn’t seem to be listening.

“Well, *I’m* enjoying it,” said Cole, “And that’s really all that matters. Next choice, pet. When the waiter returns with your drink, you can either remove your bra and then deliberately spill the drink over your breasts, or you can keep your bra on, spill the drink on the floor, and then lick it up on all fours using your tongue….”


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