A Coed’s Journey Into Total Submission
Mindy schemes how to
get out of having to actually do a Senior Project.
Mindy Peterson was an advance track psychology student at
Hamilton University. That meant she was working on a Masters of Psychology at
the same time she was working on a Bachelors of Liberal Arts in Psychology. The
Bachelors degree was basically useless in the real
world without the Masters degree, so Hamilton
combined the programs into one advanced track that could be completed in five
Mindy considered the Masters
degree also to be useless because she had no plans to ever become a
psychologist. Actually, she had no plans to ever have to work for a living in
any profession. Her sole intent throughout her five years of college was to get
an MRS degree. Her plan was to marry a rich, or soon to be rich, doctor like
her mother had done. Snagging a rich husband was her primary goal for college–
that and attending every party possible in her years there.
She had chosen Hamilton because they had an impressive
pre-med program. Doctors who graduated from the Hamilton pre-med program were
almost guaranteed entrance into some of the most prestigious medical schools in
the country. And graduation from the prestigious schools almost guaranteed
lucrative practices after graduation. If you were fishing for a rich husband,
Hamilton was definitely the pond in which to cast your hook.
Mindy had chosen psychology for two reasons. The first
and most important reason was that it put her in the right buildings and the
right classes to meet medical students. The pool of prospective husbands-to-be
would be right there in front of her hours at a time, several days a week.
The second, and almost equally important reason for
picking psychology, was that she knew that she could bullshit her way through
almost all of the classes required for a psychology degree. And for those
classes that she couldn’t fake her way through, Hamilton was large enough that
she could hire someone to attend in her place.
There were real advantages of attending large
universities when you have money. Many of the general classes were held in huge
lecture halls, and as long as someone filled your seat and turned in the
required work, no one ever checked or knew for sure who it was that had truly
been attending class. And there are always very bright students who are very
much in need of ready cash, especially at a school like Hamilton.
Unfortunately, things had not worked out as well as Mindy
had planned. It was now her fifth and final year at Hamilton University and she
didn’t have any likely grooms ready to reel into a life of wealth and bliss. If
something did not change soon, she might end up having to actually set up
practice as a psychologist after graduation.
And then there was the problem of a senior project.
Mindy had taken, or faked, all of the necessary classes
and had all of the requirements of her degree completed... all that is, except
her “Senior Project.” A master’s thesis wasn’t required in the advanced track
program, but a senior project was, and much like a true thesis, it meant that
she had to work one-on-one with a project advisor chosen from the faculty of
the Psychology Department.
This was face-to-face, one-on-one. There was no way to
fake a senior project or get someone else to do it for her. She would have to
do the work herself. And since she had delayed her project twice already, she would
have to complete the work during the “‘tween” semester in January.
At Hamilton, there were two regular semesters and one
short semester, called a “‘tween” or “between semesters” period in January. If
you counted from the time school let out for Christmas break until the second
semester started in February, you had approximately seven weeks. Many students
used that time for off-campus educational trips or projects. Mindy usually used
it to go skiing or go to a beach somewhere to party. This year, she was going
to have to stay on campus and complete her senior project.
Mindy had tried every way she could to get out of having
to do the project, but there was just no way to escape the requirement. She
could, however, choose her advisor– if he accepted her, and she could choose
her project– if the board approved it. So, in consultation with a few of her
sorority sisters, she came up with what they considered to be a foolproof plan.
Her advisor had to be a professor from the Psychology Department, so she would
choose “Dr. Nerd” as her advisor, and she would do a very, very, very explicit
project on human sexuality.
Doctor Nerd– actually Dr. Raymond Nord, was one of the
youngest members of the faculty. He was extremely brilliant– even beyond
brilliant, but like so many other brilliant men, he was also extremely awkward
around women and very socially inept. Mindy and her sorority sisters often
played a game they called “Nerd cough” in his classes. Someone noticed that Dr.
Nord would cough nervously whenever one of the girls in the front row would
accidentally flash her panties at him when she crossed or uncrossed her legs.
So, several of them would occasionally sit in the front row in very short
skirts and see how often they could distract him and get him to cough.
Mindy proudly held the record with 37 “Nerd coughs” in a
one-hour class. To be honest, however, she had cheated slightly. She had no
panties on that day, so what she was flashing at Dr. Nerd was not her panties,
but her bare pussy. She was surprised at how much it had turned her on to do
so. Opening her legs repeatedly to Dr. Nord’s view, was not just a “feel good
or silly inside” kind of turned on, it was a “feel the lubrication overflow
your pussy and puddle beneath you where you sit” kind of turned on.
Mindy hadn’t actually, “wet the seat” since some inept
teenaged fumbling around many years ago when she was first learning about boys.
But after an hour of flashing her freshly shaven clam at Dr. Nerd, she was
sitting in a puddle of her own juices.
Luckily, it was early spring and she had a light sweater
to tie around her waist and let hang down in the back. Otherwise she would have
had to walk back to the sorority house with a wet spot showing on her skirt. It
was also fortunate when she got back to her room that there was no one else on
the floor to hear her make use of her “Jumbo Little Friend,” to take her to one
of the strongest orgasms she had even experienced.
Alicia, a local girl who was now the sorority president,
had given her the oversized vibrator as a gag gift two Christmases ago in their
house gift exchange. Everyone had laughed and giggled about how it would never
fit inside of them. Mindy knew that Alicia didn’t like her for some reason, and
had done it to embarrass her in front of the house. So, to show she that was
not embarrassed– even though she was absolutely mortified, after the laughter
had died down, Mindy immediately announced to her sorority sisters,“I
think I will keep My Jumbo Little Friend here on the bookshelf above my desk so
that if any of you suddenly feel the need to borrow it, you can find it. Just
remember if you need to visit My Jumbo Little Friend, clean it really, really
well before you bring it back.”
“Visiting My Jumbo Little Friend,” became a joke codeword within the sorority for getting yourself off.
Occasionally one of the sisters would use the phrase when talking about
unsatisfactory sex with one of the frat boys. “He was so fast that I thought I
was going to have to go visit My Jumbo Little Friend just to get any
No one ever actually borrowed Mindy’s Jumbo Little
Friend, and no one ever thought that Mindy would ever actually use it. It was
just way too big. But it did have a very powerful vibrator in it, and
sometimes, when she was alone on the floor, Mindy would take it from the shelf
and rub it across her breasts and pussy as she lay naked on the bed. She had
never, ever, attempted to take it inside of herself before, but flashing her
pussy at Dr. Nord had so turned her on that she needed SOMETHING inside of her.
As soon as she got to her bedroom, she stripped off her
wet skirt and sopping panties and threw them in her clothes hamper. As she
tossed her blouse and bra onto the desk, her eyes fell on the giant joke dildo
sitting on the shelf.
“It’s you or a doorknob,” she said to the huge, pink,
penis as she took it from its place of honor above her desk. Mindy’s Jumbo
Little Friend, despite its size, slid easily into her that day.
She never again wore panties to Dr. Nord’s classes after
that, and even on the coldest days of winter wore short skirts on those days on
which she had classes with Dr. Nord. Surprisingly to her, her attendance at Dr.
Nord’s classes also improved greatly. She told herself that it was because they
were smaller classes and he could see if she was gone. Or, she used the excuse
to herself that she enjoyed so easily embarrassing poor Dr. Nerd. But the
reality was that she yearned to re-create that first day when flashing her bare
cunt at him had so overwhelmingly turned her on.
Because of his past responses to her naked pussy
flashing, Mindy figured that if she could make her project sexually explicit
enough, Dr. Nerd would be totally flummoxed and she would be able to maneuver
him into approving her project regardless of what it was or what she actually
did for it.
The plan, devised by her and her sorority sisters, was
simple. She would write up several highly-charged sexually explicit fantasies and
then use what she called the SPBBS method of analysis (Standard Psycho-Babble
Bull Shit) to compare each fantasy to reality. Dr. Nerd would be so rattled by
the subject and by the explicit way she wrote and talked about it, that he
wouldn’t notice the true content, or lack of it, in her project and would
approve whatever it was that she did.
It was a foolproof plan. The only problem was picking
what fantasies to include. The fantasies had to be hot and they had to be very,
very sexually explicit. Several wine-fueled discussions long into the night
hours with her sorority sisters came up with many good ideas, but none of them
seemed to be what was needed.
Finally, after their fifth glass of wine late one night,
her good friend, Laureen, said to her, “Mindy baby,
if it don’t make you wet, you ain’t going to pull it
off. It has to be something that comes to you in your dreams and makes you wake
up all hot and horny and ready to fuck the bedposts. You gotta
be so hot you’re melting, and you gotta be able to project
that heat at him like a blowtorch so it will melt him down to a puddle on the
floor. Anything less than that and the plan won’t work.”
Laureen drained her sixth
glass of wine and set it in the middle of the table. “You don’t really need us,”
she said. “Just make a list of the hottest damn dreams you have ever had in the
past couple of years, and then narrow it down to the three or four that burn
your fingers and scorch the paper as you write about them.”
The next morning, as soon as she got up, before she even
changed out of her night clothes, Mindy sat at her computer and did exactly
that. She typed several pages of “stream of consciousness” notes about dreams
that she could remember from as far back as her childhood.
As her fingers flew across the keys, images flashed into
Mindy’s mind... images from dreams long ago... images of recent dreams that she
could almost remember... images of being dragged into a van by a hooded
stranger... images of her thrusting her body up to meet the strokes of a masked
man who was ravaging her.... images of her across a man’s lap... images of her
lying over the back of a couch being beaten with a belt.... images of her
tightly bound spread eagle on a bed while a man’s– or was it a woman’s– hands
stroked and tweaked and teased her higher and higher... and finally images of
her kneeling naked at the feet of an unseen man and saying, “I am your slave
forever,” as a wide, black, leather collar was placed around her neck.
When Mindy finished writing, she found that she was trembling
and breathing heavily... very heavily. She looked over at the door to her
bedroom to make sure that it was closed and then reached under her night shirt
and thrust her hand into her sopping slit.
As soon as her hands brushed over her swollen clit, she
came. She leaned down until her shoulders were resting on the desk and rocked
and moaned in orgasm. It wasn’t a tremendous orgasm. She was able to keep her
moans to a reasonable level and was able to stay in the chair, but it was an
orgasm none-the-less... a long, drawn-out, and wonderful orgasm.
What she had written into her computer had more that “got
her wet.” It took her over the top. There was no doubt that these fantasies
were hot. And there was no doubt that she would be able to write and talk about
these fantasies in such a way as to totally overwhelm her advisor.
Nerd wouldn’t have a chance.