Hi all,

I'm a long time reader of heavy kink stories, especially bdsm-themed ones. This is my first attempt at writing something, and I'm hopeful you guys like it, even a bit. I'm very open to feedback, as the plan is to write several chapters for this saga. But that kind of depends on how it's received. Haha.

This story centers around a popular, beautiful, and universally beloved college sophomore. She finds herself having to make some tough choices that lead her down a dark path of being blackmailed and turned into a sex toy by her blackmailer. In this chapter, the bdsm content is low. It amounts mostly to brief references to being handcuffed, gagged, and leashed.

Future chapters will likely contain heavier references to bondage, petplay, spanking and whipping, bodywriting, non consent, cumplay, light body modifications, free-use, bound gang bangs, and lots of humiliation.

There will not be gore, scat, or anything involving animals. Not judging, just not my thing.

All characters will be 18 . No exceptions. Thank you all, in advance, for taking the time.

I humbly offer you, now, Morgan's Descent.

Morgan's Descent

The beautiful blonde tormented herself as she replayed in her mind every mistake she had made that led her to her current predicament. What an absolute idiot, she thought to herself as the “clink-clink” of the handcuffs banging against the unforgiving handle bars on both walls of the bathroom stall, brought her out of her inner monologue, and back into her present reality.

There she sat, on a toilet stall, completely naked, in a men's bathroom of her university’s packed football stadium, her wrists bound by two sets of cuffs, one attached to the handle bar of the left wall of the stall, and the other one locked to the handle bar on the right. Her mascara ran down her eyes, mixing in with the heavy load of cum that coated her face, which had begun to dry up, with only the occasional drop dripping down to her exposed breasts. She looked down, just to be reminded how, with a sharpie, he had scribbled the word, “Cumslut”, on her chest before leaving. Of course, he had also seen it fit to strap a ring gag on her, to, as he put it, bring the look together. She had gone beyond the stages of fear, anger, and indignation, and now sat expressionless in the strangely silent public bathroom. She once again drifted into deep thought. How did she let this happen to her? She was the good girl...

Morgan Adkins had always been good at staying out of trouble. In the rare occasions in which she did get in trouble, her charm was typically enough to get her out of any serious repercussions.

Surely, her looks helped out significantly. She was 5’6, 121 pounds, nineteen, with a fit, well-proportioned body. Her long blonde hair flowed down to her wais flawlessly, and her large, piercing blue eyes were easy to get lost in. Her full lips seemed to be shaped into a perpetual slight pout, adding to her elegant beauty.

With a long torso, perky breasts, and a shapely derriere, she naturally carried herself with confidence, but not arrogance. Her skin had the perfect shade of tan, and that naturally so. She was the kind of girl to look equally stunning in an elegant gown, or a plain t-shirt and jeans.

She was almost inexplicably kind and down to earth. She got along with everyone, and everyone looked up to her. Somehow, she always found it in her to want to make everyone around her feel included. One could say she was popular, but it would be a huge understatement.

But after bombing her last statistics exam, she knew she needed more than charm and kindness to keep her GPA up. After all, it was crucial that it didn't dip below 2.0, or she'd be kickef off the gymnastics team, and she'd lose her scholarship. She couldn't afford to stay in school eithout it, and she couldn't accept defeat. With hard work and dedication, she had made it to division one, and was not willing to fail her way back home to rural Nebraska. Not when her entire family had their hopes hanging entirely on her. More than failing on personal basis, she couldn't let them down.

Charms wouldn't work, but perhaps a little bit of rule bending would. And for the first time in her life, Morgan was willing to do the wrong thing. Desperation is a funny thing.

Morgan was aware that her professor, Dr. Slate, updated his grades in his office late each night. He was older and stuck in his ways, so he liked to keep it all on a hard drive, rather than utilize an online platform. The poor man was but weeks away from retiring. He had grown forgetful, and she had been observing him attempting to make up for it in a myriad of ways. One of the methods he used was writing down his login passwords in a piece of paper he kept taped to the underside of his keyboard. How careless, yet how fortunate for Morgan.

A few days before grades were due, and still pulling an F in Professor State’s class, Morgan panicked. She knew she had no other option but to cheat. But how? She did not have a wealthy family, so it wasn't like she could pay anyone off. And besides, she would die before anyone else knew she was trying to cheat the system. She also wasn't going to flirt with the professor. She was the good girl, she would not dare. The more she battled with herself, the clearer it became – she had to break into his office and change her grades. He wouldn't know! He had trouble remembering basic concepts he had taught for over 30 years. Surely he wouldn't remember, once she changed her grade to an A, how she had been earning an F just a few days back. She had to do it.

Over the next few days, Morgan found herself doing things she never would have done before. She googled how to pick a lock over and over until she found the best instructions. She spent hours practicing on her bedroom and bathroom doors until she finally got it. She started lying to her mother and friends whenever they invited her out. She’d smile, make up an excuse, and decline, all the while knowing exactly where she’d be on Friday night: breaking into her professor’s office. Surely nonody would be around to seem The entire campus would be distracted by the rivalry game. The halls would be empty, the scene of the crime unwatched.

Friday afternoon, Morgan declined her friend Loren's ride back from campus to their sorority house.

“I need to head to the library for some last-minute studying,” she told Loren, who didn’t question her and simply drove away. Morgan gave a shy wave before turning to walk back to Douglass Hall, where Professor Slate’s office was located. Strutting down the pathway in her tight red leggings and a matching red sports tank top that accentuated her toned figure, she effortlessly turned heads, capturing the attention of everyone around her. While she usually delighted in the admiration, this time she found herself cursing her striking beauty and popularity. She needed to fly under the radar.

She sat on a small bench, just outside the entrance to the building, and waited until the sun set and the number of students entering and exiting the building diminished to essentially zero. Taking one last look around to check her surroundings, she figured the coast was clear and she turned up the steps of Douglass Hall. Morgan was fortunate that during finals week, the buildings stay open 24/7, but the number of security guards on campus never increased. She'd have the old building on the far side of campus, all to herself. She hurried up the steps and pushed the large door open. She peeked down both sides of the hallway quickly, before continuing on her way. “All clear,” she mumbled. Poor little Morgan. Ever the prettiest, kindest, and sweetest, she was never the brightest.

Weeks later, as Vincent Jameson showed her the video of herself entering the building late Friday evening, with the intent of blackmailing her, she cursed herself for being dumb enough to forget that the entire campus is equipped with hundreds upon hundreds of cameras –including Douglass Hall.

After entering the building and finding no obstacles that could derail her plan, Morgan walked quickly to the left, and down the short staircase that led to the basement floor, where Slate’s office was located. She walked quietly and slowly, making sure her white sneakers didn't produce any more noise than was unavoidable. Finally, she reached the door to Slate's office. She looked behind her, and all around. Nobody.

She closed her eyes as she came to face the door and knelt down to be at eye level with the lock she needed to pick. She had to force herself to breathe as the reality of her actions hit her. Poor Morgan Adkins, she was about to no longer be the good girl. She exhaled, as she gave the door handle a try just in case. Locked. Pulling the hair pin from her hair, which immediately cascaded down to her waist, she bent it and twisted it into just the right shape. She had researched and practiced well. Within no more than ninety seconds, she heard the sound that let her know she had successfully picked the lock. She turned the handle and slowly pushed the door open. “Professor Slate,” she called out softly. No response. “Professor?”. Nothing. She sighed in relief and looked over to the desk at the far end of the room, with the Professor’s computer. Nervously, she made her way over to the desk and sat down. She lifted the keyboard and flipped it over, and soon logged on to the Professor’s computer. She opened the spreadsheet where he kep all the grades and searched for her name. “43 percent? Goodness!” she exclaimed. It took a mere two minutes, and Morgan's grade changed to a 96 percent. Morgan was both thrilled and filled with guilt. Closing the spreadsheet, and logging off, she made her way out of the office, making sure to leave no trace of having been there. She quietly walked up the stairs to the ground level, peeked around the corner, and exited the building, with her heart pounding, and every muscle on her body seemingly tensed up. After walking a few dozen yards away from the building, she took one last look back. She saw nobody.

She walked meekly, as she made her way down to the student center, where she went to the bathroom, locked herself inside a stall, and began to cry silently, but uncontrollably. She had messed up, and she could never see herself in the same way again.

At least she had succeeded. At least she'd keep her scholarships, and her gymnastics career. At least no one had seen her.

A few weeks later, as security guard Vincent Jameson walked Morgan Adkins, the most popular and beloved girl on campus by a leash, he remembered that night, when working the overtime shift he had fumed about having to cover, the cameras spotted the beautiful blonde entering the building and looking suspicious. He was immediately intrigued, not just because it was an odd hour for a girl like her to be in this building, but because she looked like she was up to something. He had recorded the entire incident, in case he needed to report something. He saw as she peeked around corners, as she walked cautiously through the halls, as she descended to the basement, and as she picked the lock to Dr. Slate's office. When he observed her trying to break in, he almost went to go stop her. Poor Morgan Adkins, for Vincent Jameson decided against it. He recorded the whole thing, for little did she know that Dr. Slate was a paranoid man, and was always nervous of having young college girls alone with him in his office. He had begged for them to install a camera in his office.

Vincent had obliged. As Morgan crawled naked behind him, the chain connecting her two nipple clamps together making a soft “clink-clink,” he thanked his lucky stars for having done Slate that favor.

After what felt like hours of crying in that bathroom stall, just after essentially committing a felony, Morgan Adkins finally got the courage to get up and face her new reality as something less than the good, perfect girl. She ordered herself an Uber, and waited alone, in the cold of the night, thinking that at least she'd get to keep her life undisturbed from the consequences of almost failing out of college.

Sitting in that bathroom stall, naked, handcuffed, gagged, and with cum dripping down her face, Morgan thought back to that moment and cried thinking about how right then, she had no idea her life was about to change.