Campus Walk Dare
Copyright© 2025 by zavgar
Chapter 5. The main attraction
Sarah stood before me, her smile so sharp and precise that it could have sliced through glass. “You’re such a good girl,” she cooed, her voice oozing with an exaggerated sweetness that felt almost mocking. “I think you deserve a little ... reward.”
With a deft press of a button, the vibrator’s relentless hum diminished to a gentle whisper. Before I could fully grasp the change, her fingers deftly grasped the bottom edge of the towel. With practiced ease, she lifted it and meticulously ran it over my damp, sensitized skin, pressing it firmly against my body all the way to the top.
“Let’s cover you,” she suggested, her tone laced with a teasing edge.
“Really?” I asked, a note of hopefulness threading through my words as I gazed at Sarah.
From her bag, Sarah retrieved a bottle of water while still holding the towel in one hand. She began to pour the cold liquid over the towel, and the fabric immediately absorbed the water, becoming heavy and translucent. The soaked material clung intimately to every curve, leaving little to the imagination. My nipples pressed prominently against the wet cotton, and my thighs shimmered with moisture. The wind quickly cooled the towel, sending a cascade of goosebumps rippling across my weary body.
“See? You are covered up again,” she announced with a triumphant smile, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I will get this little clamp for this,” she added, expertly undoing the bottom clamp. “Go on,” she insisted, stepping back with a gesture that was both playful and commanding.
I took a tentative step forward, feeling the weight of the thick towel shift precariously as it slipped an inch down my body.
“Yes, and I almost forgot,” Sarah reminded me with a mischievous grin. “Keep your hands up; don’t lower them. Smile and wave confidently to your audience as you walk.”
With a decisive press of the button, the vibrations beneath me intensified, causing my knees to tremble as if they might give way. The towel edged down another inch, teasingly. Determined, I lifted my arms high, waving with forced assurance. The delicate feathers brushed against my armpits, tickling my skin, and I jerked instinctively. The towel, as if sensing my predicament, began to inch further down my chest.
“Hands on top all the time! Wave!” Sarah’s voice rang out, commanding and unwavering.
A gust of wind swept through, catching the feathers and making them dance wildly. I jolted once more, sensing the towel begin its slow, inevitable slide from my body. Around me, the students gathered in the heart of the campus, their eyes fixed intently on my unfolding spectacle. Faces were pressed eagerly against the windows, and a sea of phones rose to capture the moment. Soft whispers and stifled laughter mingled in the air, surrounding me like an invisible audience.A desperate moan escaped from my lips. My hands wavered and dropped to retrieve the sliding fabric, and I received another hard slap on the backside.
“Hands up!” Sarah commanded as she clicked the remote control, intensifying the vibration, which nearly caused my knees to buckle. The feathers fluttered under my arms once more, eliciting another insane laugh, and I jerked helplessly again. Sarah circled Anna with the demeanor of a conductor entering a grand performance at its final act. The quad, now teeming with the presence of loitering students—drawn from their dorms, classrooms, and the far corners of campus by the unspoken promise of a spectacle—seemed to narrow and focus around Anna’s trembling outline. The sharp cold of the morning and the relentless hum from between her thighs had long since conspired to blur all sensation into a continuous, shuddering ache. She was somewhat aware of Mia, who was still in reporter mode, circling with her phone held out, and Jess, who bounced on her heels, shouting encouragements and jeers in equal measure. However, Anna’s world had mostly narrowed to the knot of pressure at her core and to Sarah, who now approached with a sudden, almost militaristic efficiency.
“I’ll help you, as always,” Sarah said, her voice a single clear note above the rising tide of whispers and laughter.
She wasted no time. With quick, efficient movements, Sarah took Anna’s hands and, pressing gently but firmly, moved them into a new position along her body. Anna obeyed automatically, but the effort sent a fresh spike of discomfort through her straining shoulders. Sarah fixed her with a look that managed to be both clinical and intimate.
“Your armpits are tired,” she observed, tone almost sympathetic, “so just a few more adjustments.”