Three weeks passed in a haze of controlled torment and deepening surrender. The rose gold plug became as familiar to Amber as her own heartbeat, a constant companion during every lecture Kabir delivered. Oliver Langford had not learned his lesson. If anything, his attention grew more pointed, his blue eyes finding her across the crowded hall with the persistence of a man who sensed a mystery and could not resist unraveling it. Each glance earned Amber a silent vibration, a secret reminder that left her trembling and wet, her untouched pussy aching with a need that had no name.

On a crisp autumn evening, the psychology department hosted its annual social mixer in the academy’s grand library. Towering shelves of ancient texts formed a cathedral of knowledge, and the soft glow of chandeliers cast honeyed light over clusters of students and faculty. Amber arrived in a deep burgundy dress that hugged her curves, the fabric stretched taut over her massive breasts and the heavy sway of her hips. Beneath the dress, as Kabir had instructed, she wore nothing but the rose gold plug and a thin pair of lace panties already damp with anticipation.