The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Gregg closed the car door and leaned back into the open window. “Thanks again for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow. 9am…don’t be late.”

Laura smiled excitedly and nodded. Just knowing that she’d get to see her “Master” again so soon had her body on fire. It didn’t worry her that he’d told her to bring her sorority pledge paddle. She watched as he walked up the sidewalk to the cozy duplex on the opposite side of campus from where he lived. Standing in the main doorway was a beautiful red-headed woman with her arms crossed, and one foot tapping. ‘Shit…busted,’ she thought. ‘Well, maybe he’ll want a ride when she kicks him to the curb…’

Only from a distance did Heather look angry. As he trotted up the walkway, he could see that while her body language shouted anger, her face barely contained its smile. Gregg walked up to her to give her a peck on the lips. Unsatisfied with the chaste greeting – especially with an audience – Heather molded herself to his body and gave him a kiss that curled his toes, even going so far as to grip one of his asscheeks. If she were any clearer about marking her territory, then Gregg would have been branded.

Heather broke the kiss and looked over his shoulder while he swayed drunkenly in her greeting’s aftermath. Giving the girl in the SUV a small wave goodbye, she led Gregg inside, leaving no question as to where he’d be spending the night. The SUV’s tinted window rolled up and sped away down the block, taking the first corner with a screech of tires.

“How’d the lesson go Professor?” Heather asked, making sure she was ahead of him on the stairs so her shapely ass was at eye level. Her hips seemed to take on an extra bit of sway, and Gregg had to fight hard to keep his libido in check. Heather’s was the cruelest form of revenge…even if it made them both smile. Even wearing a relatively conservative white shin-length skirt and red blouse, the hypnotic sway of her hips could be ruled as torture by the Geneva Conventions.

“Better than I could have imagined. I’ll have to tell you all about it tonight,” Gregg said with a grin.

Reaching the top landing outside Rivkah’s and E’dan’s door, Heather spun around and made a show of straightening Gregg’s collar. “As a teacher interested in the diverse learning styles of his students, Professor, I think you should know that I’m more of a hands-on learner…I think it would be better if you SHOWED me the lesson I missed in class today…” Heather’s eyes were wide and her voice pitched up in perfect imitation of freshman innocence. She may only be starting her sophomore year at Eastern State U in a few weeks, but at 24 years old, she was six years older than most freshmen…and had more real-world experience than most would achieve in a lifetime. One doesn’t walk away intact from a gangster-owned strip club without having survival skills.

As Heather batted her eyes playfully at Gregg, the mental image of Heather imitating Laura’s submission, on her knees and swearing to obey his every command sent his head spinning. It wasn’t just the redirection of blood away from his brain that made him dizzy:

FLASH Gregg and small band of soldiers clad in the armor of the Carthaginian court marching their caravan east, toward Cairo. They see a small village ahead, women tending goats drawing water from one of the nearby wells.

FLASH Gregg sitting naked on a make-shift throne in his large tent. Half a dozen women clad in nearly transparent white robes lie at his feet, all recovering from intense orgasms.

FLASH The initiate kneeling before him, also in diaphanous white robes, pulls her mouth off his gigantic cock. Gregg is about to bless her with an orgasm as he did the others when she pulls back the robe’s cowl. Her deep green eyes lock on his. One of his newest slaves screams from the floor. It was not a scream of pleasure…

Despite their closeness, the thought of Heather becoming his slave made him queasy. It wasn’t only his own feelings for her, although that would have been enough. No, there was something in that vision that said making Heather his slave would be a bad idea. Gregg gulped nervously, considering what parts of his afternoon with Laura he wanted to share. “I…I think we should go in…”

Inside the apartment, preparations for the night’s meeting were underway. Rivkah was setting up a folding conference table she snagged from the sports center. Even with a six-foot table, Gregg knew it’d be a tight fit. The painting that normally hung over the couch was removed so there’d be a large white wall to project images from a laptop LCD projector.

A fast woodpecker-like sound followed by a high-pitched yelp of surprise coming from the kitchen could only mean one thing: E’dan was showing off again. Giving Heather a knowing look, Gregg looked through the breakfast-bar window into the kitchen. E’dan was pressed tightly against Emily’s back, pinning her against the countertop. His arms were around her body, holding her hand around the handle of a large chef’s knife. The thinly sliced remains of a cucumber were being moved aside while Emily breathed excitedly, examining her and E’dan’s hands – amazed that given the speed of his knife-work, they both still had all their fingers.

Emily finally took a shuddering breath, and turned her head around to look into the huge man’s weathered face. “Again!”

E’dan smiled down at the impossibly cute girl and shifted his hips a little, settling his hardening cock between her jean-clad asscheeks. He reached over and grabbed a red onion and started peeling the outer layer in preparation for his next demonstration of skill.

Gregg turned around and gave Rivkah a kiss on the cheek and helped her unfold a paper table cloth. “Emily and your husband seem to be getting along?” Gregg asked with a wink.

Rivkah responded by giving an exasperated roll of her eyes. “Something tells me we’re going to have a guest tonight…” Gregg could tell that that particular thought wasn’t as unpleasant to Rivkah as she pretended.

The buzzer sounding in the hallway indicated that their first guest had arrived. Rivkah hit the admit button and opened the hallway door a crack. As if reading Gregg’s mind, Heather popped her head into the kitchen and put on her best stern-mother voice. “Okay you two, let’s see a little light between those bodies. We have company. This is a business meeting, not Nero’s palace. You’ll have plenty of time for…that…later.”

A simultaneous “Yes Mom,” was followed by a series of giggles. Emily and E’dan separated, but not before Emily gave the big man a kiss. Skipping out of the kitchen, she gave Rivkah a kiss on the lips also before vaulting over the arm of the couch and assuming an all-too-innocent pose.

Rivkah cocked one eyebrow at Heather and whispered as the hallway door opened, “Aye, kinderle! Honestly, can you believe she starts college next week?”

Heather could. Unlike Rivkah, she’d know Emily longer than three days, but just like Rivkah, she’d loved her from day-one. Em was like a bottomless well of energy, and sometimes her exuberance made it difficult to remember that if she’d gone straight into college rather than traveling abroad to Tunisia with her father for a year, she’d be entering her sophomore year. Besides, Em could act the adult when she wanted to. A flashing memory of their “playing doctor” game sent an excited tremor through her body, it’s epicenter between her thighs. Only one person had ever gotten her as excited as Em made her that night…and he was greeting their first guest.

“Hi Jim, glad you could make it.”

“Hey Gregg. Mmmm, something smells good. Decided to bribe me with food before stealing away my best workstudy, huh? Is Charli here yet?”

“No and no. I need both of your help. BesidesIf things go REALLY well, you may just be chairing one of the premier Computer Science programs in the state…at least in terms of software development. Come on in, can I get you a drink?”

Gregg opened a bottle of red wine while Heather introduced herself and the rest of their guests. Despite the ring on his finger, Jim couldn’t help but notice the three beautiful women bustling about, getting things ready. Pulling Gregg aside when he accepted his glass, he whispered, “Jeez Gregg, don’t you know any ugly people? I’m feeling a bit like the ugly duckling in the pond full of swans!”

Gregg was about to respond when there was a knock on the door. It opened and a short, squat woman with bulging eyes like a toad peeked her head in. “Hello?”

Jim leaned in again and whispered, “Never mind.” Gregg thought it a bit harsh of a joke, but Jim immediately went to the door and gave the woman a kiss on the cheek. “Sarah, good to see you. How have you been?”

Sarah looked up at Jim and slapped him on the back. “Oh, Jim, I love it when we get together. It’s always comforting to have someone uglier than me in the room!”

Sarah looked around at the astonished people in the room. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but this nice young man let me in the door. He had a key.” Chad snuck past the people crowding the entryway and made his rounds saying hello.

After giving Chad a kiss on the cheek, Heather took Sarah’s coat. “So, apparently you two know each other. My name’s Heather, by the way. Gregg hasn’t told me what my role is yet, so for now, I guess I’m the greeter. That’s Emily on the couch. She’s a nursing student starting at Loyola this week, so maybe she’s here to provide first aid! You obviously know Gregg, and those are our hosts, Rivkah and E’dan.”

The bug-eyed woman smiled, taking in Heather’s statuesque beauty, before turning back to Jim. “Now I’m REALLY glad there’s someone uglier than me!”

Sarah could tell Heather was confused by her harsh tone, but it was Jim who spoke first, putting his arm around Sarah’s shoulders. “It’s okay. Sarah and I were new faculty hires the same year. We went through orientation together and our families have been quite close ever since. Believe me, the ribbing you just saw is pretty tame.”

Sarah looked at the hand casually draped over her shoulder. “Careful stud, I’m a married woman.” Jim started laughing and Sarah poked him none-too-gently in the ribs. Turning once again to Heather, Sarah leaned in to say softly, “Gregg speaks very highly of you. Says you were his best student in Tunisia last semester. I hope you’ll afford me the same work ethic.”

Heather just looked at the woman dumbly. “You have no idea who I am, do you? I’m Sarah Whyte…PROFESSOR Sarah Whyte. I chair the Business program. Gregg tells me that’s the major you’re switching to.”

Heather smiled and glanced up at Gregg, but he was busy pouring glasses of wine. “Well then, it’s a pleasure Professor Whyte. Come on in and let me get you a glass of wine. I hope we’ll find some time to talk about the department.”

Appetizers were served and everyone mingled. Gregg checked his watch, wondering where his final guest was when the buzzer sounded. Opening the intercom, a breathless, “It’s Cheryl…Charli,” piped up, and Gregg buzzed her in. He could tell something was wrong just by the tone in her voice.

Stomping up the stairs, a disgruntled looking Charli perked up somewhat seeing Gregg standing in the doorway. She wore her usual attire with the addition of a button-down man’s black dress shirt covering the black print tee beneath. “What’s with the long face?”

“Some fucking fraternity sport-jock assholes decided to shaving-cream our dorm. When I stepped out into the hallway, I slipped in a big pile of it. Lots of laughs, ha ha! I had to go back in and change. That’s why I’m late. I’m just glad I landed on my butt and not my computer!” She took a calming breath and saw the room full of people looking in their direction. Blushing, she realized she’s spoken loud enough for everybody to hear. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s okay. I’ll get you a glass of wine. Come on in and relax. I hope you’re hungry.” Charli’s heart skipped a beat with Gregg’s offer of wine. He was treating her just like any other adult.

Charli’s joy plummeted when she entered the living room. Standing up and approaching her to greet her was an uncomfortably familiar face. It was the redhead from the Athenian, where she and Gregg had eaten lunch earlier that day. Heather stepped up and gave her a thousand-dollar smile which Charli nervously returned. “Hi, I’m Heather. You must be Charli. Gregg’s told me a lot about you, but we haven’t formally met.”

Bounding up behind Heather, the other “hottie” from lunch thrust out her hand in greeting which Charli weakly shook. “And I’m Emily, but you can call me ‘Em.’” The pony-tailed nymph leaned in close and whispered into her ear, “I’m sorry about lunch. It was my idea. I just wanted to give Gregg some grief. I hope you’re not upset. He’s a great guy, but too serious sometimes.” As much as Charli wished she could stay mad, Emily’s innocent eyes held no malice, and she couldn’t help but forgive her.

Heather put her arm around Charli’s shoulder and led her into the room. Charli couldn’t help feeling uneasy standing so close to the model of perfection beside her. She wasn’t into girls, but the redhead’s large breast touching her arm sent little chills through her body. A conversation she had shortly after meeting her roommate, Chen Du, flashed into her mind. They were playing a game of “What if” and Chen asked “What if you had to kiss a girl?” Charli responded that the only one who’d make her cross THAT particular line was Xena, Warrior Princess. Not the actress who played her, Lucy Lawless, but the fictional ass-kicking leather-clad fighting machine character come to life. So what if she didn’t really exist. ‘Maybe I need to reconsider my list…’

Pointing to the corner of the table, “Obviously, you know your boss, Jim. Next to him is Professor Sarah Whyte, Chair of the Business department.”

Jim smiled at Charli, “Hey Charli. Whatever you do, don’t play monopoly with Sarah here…you’re guaranteed to lose.” To Charli’s surprise, the toady professor smiled before punching her boss in the arm. Not quite the behavior she expected from two tenured faculty. Like most new college students, she was still not used to the idea that college faculty were actually people. Her conversations with Gregg were a constant reminder of that.

Heather continued, “On the other side of the table is—”

Chad stood and shook her hand. “—A fucking fraternity sport-jock asshole.” Charli paled, no easy feat given how white her skin already was. “Just kidding. I’m Chad, Gregg’s assistant. Fraternity? Yes. Jock? Yes. Asshole? Hopefully not. Fucking…well geez lady, we just met!” Charli’s white skin turned crimson at his risqué joke. Flashing his most charming grin and putting his hand over his heart, “And I swear I had nothing to do with whatever delayed you.” Chad withheld that he begged off participating in the prank only because he had to prepare for tonight’s meeting… “Anyway, Gregg tells me you and I might share some music interests. We’ll have to chat after business.”

Charli was completely disarmed by Gregg’s handsome assistant. Still, she sincerely doubted she shared ANY interests with a cookie-cutter, albeit charming, frat boy.

Heather rolled her eyes and shooed Chad back to his seat. “Yep, the old Chad is back. Pay no attention to him. I had to live with his ‘humor’ for almost four months!” Heather emphasized “humor” with air-quotes. “But don’t worry, he’s really quite harmless. He even reads! Books, no less…without pictures!” Chad licked a finger and drew an imaginary “1” in the air, indicating that this round went to Heather.

Rivkah broke up the impromptu battle of wits by stepping out from behind the table and kissing Charli on the cheek. “I’m Rivkah. Welcome to my home. That wall standing behind you is my husband E’dan.” Charli turned her head and yelped in surprise. Indeed, E’dan’s massive muscular body filled the hallway behind her. She never heard him approach so his sudden appearance behind her caught her off guard. He smiled and shook her hand. Despite his massive build, Charli could see a softness in his eyes that belied his scary physique.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Charli. You’ll have to forgive me, but I have dinner to attend to. Please make yourself comfortable. As you can hopefully see, we don’t stand on formality around here. I hope you brought your appetite!”

Charli put her bag and laptop down in the hallway and decided to sit with Jim and Sarah, in part because she already knew Jim, but also because they were the only two that didn’t make her feel so ugly in this sea of beautiful people.

Dinner was served with flourish. Despite Gregg’s warning to E’dan not to go overboard, the meal served was a feast. Everyone ate more than their fill…except for Charli, that is. She couldn’t help but feel self-conscious eating at the same table with the slender Emily, the incredibly fit Rivkah, and the gorgeous Heather. She was also feeling a little left out of the loop. This afternoon she felt closer than ever to Gregg, but that was one-on-one. Now as she watched everyone interact, it seemed like the crowd was very close and friendly. Professor Whyte and Jim were the exception, although those two seemed to have their own strange friendship (which involved mostly trading insults). Watching people show their affections with casual (and not-so-casual) touches of hands on arms, friendly kisses, sly comments, wink, and even overt ogling, was like watching a soap opera live: everyone was too perfect, too friendly, and she was the lone outsider.

As the meal wound down, Charli excused herself to get some water from the kitchen. E’dan had a hurt look on his face when he saw her mostly untouched plate. He was going to follow and ask what was wrong with his cooking, but Heather patted him on the shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. “Let me talk to her,” she whispered in his ear. “Your dinner was marvelous, and I don’t think her lack of appetite has anything to do with your culinary offerings.” E’dan instantly felt better, but was still confused.

Rivkah, who’d been silently watching everything, just leaned over and patted his arm like she would a child and said, “It’s okay honey. It’s a female thing.” She looked out the corner of her eye at Gregg, but he was completely unaware of all the drama directly under her nose. Rivkah rolled her eyes and again patted her husband affectionately, whispering under her breath, “Men!”

Heather rounded the corner and peered into the kitchen. Charli was leaning against the counter holding a glass and peering into its empty depths as if some hidden truth would be revealed by the refracted image of her feet.

“Stage fright?” Heather asked.

Charli jumped in surprise, being lost in her own dark thoughts. “Wha? Um. Yeah. Stage fright…sure. I’ve never been at a dinner quite like this one. Gre—…Dr. Walters seems so…friendly…with everyone.”

“Gregg, honey. I’m sure he’s told you that you can call him Gregg, and this is hardly a black-tie affair. And yes, we’re all…pretty close here.” Charli could tell that Heather was being careful with her words, and that just fueled her curiosity…as well as her jealousy. It’s never fun when one’s crush catches up with reality. She leaned back against the counter, returning to her examination of the empty glass, turning it slowly in her hands.

Heather leaned against the counter opposite Charli, and crossed her arms under her chest, waiting for the girl to look up again. When Charli finally managed to gear up enough courage to make eye-contact, even briefly, Heather used it as her opening. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really on your mind. I don’t believe it has anything with E’dan’s cooking.”

Charli instantly felt bad. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt the big man’s feelings. She suddenly felt trapped, like the kitchen was shrinking around her and the perfect Heather with her perfect boobs and her perfect smile were closing in on her. She wanting nothing more than to escape this bizarre dinner and pick up where she left off with Gregg this afternoon – before Heather or Emily or Rivkah entered the picture. But she felt trapped by her friendship with Gregg – she couldn’t just leave him. She’d never be able to face him again if she acted so childishly…and that would be more than she could bear. Also, as much as she wanted to hate the beautiful woman across from her, Heather’s soft, warm smile made that impossible.

“Dr—…Gregg’s your boyfriend…isn’t he?” she finally managed to squeak out forlornly.

Heather smiled. Her guess was correct. “Yes. Yes, you could say that.” Again, Heather chose her words carefully, not figuring that Charli was ready to hear the whole truth.

Charli’s gaze through the glass became even more intense. “I…I feel like such an idiot.”

“Why’s that honey?”

Heather’s use of affectionate terms was unsettling. “I guess part of me thought…that…oh, I don’t know. Just a silly little-girl crush, I guess. I’m surprised he even noticed me with you in his life. Or even Emily for that matter.”

Heather approached Charli and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, causing her to finally look up. Heather’s amazing green eyes seemed to peer right into her soul and she found that she couldn’t look away. It was unnerving being held prisoner by the woman who held the heart of the man of your dreams.

“Charli, you couldn’t be more wrong. I’m the one who should be jealous.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No, seriously. Every time you and Gregg have lunch, he comes home in a happy mood. He tells me all about your debates, practically word for word. (Keep working on him. He’ll eventually embrace deep-dish.) You probably didn’t know this, but just about everyone Gregg considers a friend is in that room right now, and he only met Jim and Professor Whyte today for the first time. So, you are one of a very small and very select group.”

Charli’s eyes dropped again, this time out of shame. How could she give Gregg so little credit?

Heather’s finger lifted her face back up. The backs of her fingers caressed her cheek as if brushing away an imaginary tear. Delicately, Heather moved Charli’s long black hair out of her face and back behind her ears. Charli shivered as Heather’s fingers traced along her skin. She felt an overwhelming desire to kiss the redhead’s hands, to weep in thanks for such a small but needed affectionate touch…one never received from her mother since the day her father died.

“You really are quite beautiful, Charli.”

Charli started to shake her head no, but Heather’s palm on her cheek made sure she was looking into her eyes. “I’m serious. You have this amazing mane of thick black hair. You have near perfect alabaster skin. You have such deep brown eyes, and full lips.” Heather’s gaze trailed lower briefly. “And I’ll bet your choice of clothing doesn’t do your figure justice.

Heather turned her head at the sounds of plates being cleared coming from the living room table. Charli didn’t seem to notice. A tear rolled down her cheek. Heather wiped away the tear (a real tear this time) with her thumb, keeping her hand still pressed gently to the side of the girl’s face. “Why don’t you come back and enjoy E’dan’s amazing cooking. I’ll even help myself to thirds so you’re not eating alone. Okay?”

Charli nodded, relieved that Heather turned out to be so understanding. She didn’t know how she’d react if some girl basically admitted she had a crush on HER boyfriend…if she ever had a boyfriend.

Before she released Charli, Heather’s thumb grazed past Charli’s dry lips. The next thing Charli knew, the voluptuous redhead leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. It wasn’t a sexual act, and yet her knees grew weak at the delicate touch. It was only a second, and yet, it could have been an eternity. Charli blinked her eyes and, to her astonishment, Heather was already halfway across the room.

“Ready to face the crowd?”

Charli could only gulp and numbly nod her head.

Heather grabbed her by the hand and led her back in, snagging her plate back from Rivkah’s hand. “We’re not done with those.”

Gregg looked questioningly at Heather, but she only mouthed silently, “Later.” E’dan’s face lit up as he watched Charli retake her seat and start digging into the food she’d left behind. She really was hungry, and after Heather’s talk, she didn’t feel so sorry for herself. Even as she ate, Charli wasn’t sure if the tingling in her lips was from the spicy curried potatoes or the lingering effects of Heather’s kiss.

With all but two plates cleared away (Rivkah putting more food onto Charli’s plate, even before being asked. E’dan made a sly comment about Rivkah skipping motherhood and already being a Jewish grandmother…His joke was a whisper, but Rivkah appeared a moment later from the kitchen to slap him upside the head!) Gregg began unveiling his plan:

In short, his idea was to turn the land that the dig in Tunisia was on into a for-profit venture that would be lucrative for the land owners and hotel developers and still keep the dig site intact. He got the idea from talking with Chad after his return from Israel. The idea was to model the site after several of the archeological digs in Israel that were also tourist traps. Tourists and students from around the world could travel there to experience a real archeological dig without having to travel to a remote site, nor leave the comforts of a first-class hotel. There’d be a small staff to keep the site running, but much of the effort would be done by volunteers…who actually paid to participate! Because this idea had a somewhat limited appeal, there’d also be a heavy virtual component. The dig would exist in the real world, but an online replica would also be created that would be updated in near real-time. The software would function as both a reference, a virtual experience for academic programs and intro-level courses, and, hopefully, a game that could stand on its own. While it was unrealistic to expect all this to happen in the few short weeks before school started, Gregg pointed out that they only needed to develop a concrete plan – a plan that, hopefully, would generate private investment while simultaneously saving the dig site.

The group sat in near stunned silence. The first wave of protest came from E’dan who was almost apoplectic about helping Tunisian businessmen make a fortune. Surprisingly, it was Rivkah who argued to her husband that the PLO wasn’t there anymore, but old wounds run deep. Furthermore, she argued, how could he turn his back on such an important piece of history? In their time with the Mossad, they fought as much to protect their past as they did to protect their future. E’dan sulked back in grudging acceptance, but at that point didn’t contribute much more to the conversation.

Next it was Professor Whyte’s turn. She had a laundry list of considerations and reasons why it wouldn’t work, all of them logistical. Gregg didn’t have answers for many of them, not having a head for business, but he did his best cheerleading and heaped lots of praise on her, sure that she’d be able to address each issue. Sarah turned to Heather and harrumphed, “You better kiss your boyfriend goodbye tonight. With the list of things to do and the short timeframe, I don’t think you’ll be seeing much of him…”

Once the general outline of the business plan was accepted, marginally at least, it was Jim’s turn to raise his points. Constructing a complete virtual environment was time consuming and very laborious…perhaps as much as actual brick-and-mortar construction! The scale of Gregg’s idea was huge, far more than two people could do in just three weeks. Gregg argued that in three weeks, they only needed an outline of an outline, with just enough demonstrable material to wow the backers. If everything worked, then Jim’s department would be receiving a pretty generous injection of funds to build and maintain the site and software.

Sarah interjected a way to build a spin-off company that was tied into the university. The college’s lawyers would probably have to put in overtime, but it wasn’t unheard of for products developed in academic settings to be the foundation for private/academic profit-sharing. Anyone ever hear of Gatorade? Developed at the University of Florida. The dollar signs covering his eyes stalled the remainder of his arguments.

“So, E’dan, Rivkah? I’m hoping you’ll stay on and serve as consultants. You both know a lot about the geographical area and have experience we’ll desperately need. Afterall, we’re not looking to build a lemonade stand here.” Rivkah nodded warmly, but E’dan just sat silently. Finally, Rivkah punched him in the arm.

Glaring angrily at his wife, he turned back to Gregg and said, “Yes, yes…Of course. We’ll help in anyway we can. You know that. I’m just old and set in my ways…please forgive me.” E’dan refrained from mentioning that the last time he was in Tunisia, it was under cover of darkness, he toted a sniper rifle, and he wasn’t there to sightsee.

“E’dan, my friend, there’s nothing to forgive. I understand your misgivings. That’s why I’m counting on you to tell us before we tread across any political landmines.” Gregg instantly wished he used a better metaphor, but E’dan seemed to understand.

“Jim, Charli, I know next to nothing about what you do, so I’m counting on you two to be pretty well self-directed. I’ll provide whatever information you need.” Jim and Charli traded a look, and nodded. “Sarah, Heather, I know even less about business than I do about computers. Heather, I leave you in Sarah’s tender mercies. Sarah, Heather knows that site almost as well as I do, and you couldn’t ask for a more self-motivated student.” Both women smiled at each other and nodded. “Chad, you’re the assistant supreme. Whoever needs another hand, you’re the go-to guy. I’ll do my best to prioritize your time. You can forget about helping me plan my classes for now. Between your fraternity obligations, sports, and everything everyone else throws your way, you’ll have enough on your plate. I have a feeling everyone will want a piece of you.” Charli blushed and Emily giggled, but Gregg didn’t understand. Chad gave a thumbs-up. Nothing seemed to faze the guy.

Lastly, Gregg turned to Emily, who was feeling particularly left out of this conversation. She had nothing to do with the dig, other than the fact that it was a freak lightning strike at the site that landed Gregg at her hospital. “Emily, I also need your help.”

“Why? To give massages? I don’t know anything about ANY of this! I have no head for business, I only know enough about computers to send email, and I certainly don’t know anything about archeology, other than how to pack pottery in straw like you made me do in Tunisia!”

“First of all, you volunteered to help, remember?” Emily responded by sticking out her tongue. It was hard for Gregg to continue, stifling a laugh. It was a problem that plagued her all her life: she was so cute when she pouted that no one ever took her anger seriously. “Second, you are the only person here who has inroads with the government there.” Emily looked at him blankly before understanding crept in. “Yeah. Exactly. I hope you’re still on speaking terms with your father.”

Emily shrugged. “We’re about as close as when I lived with him over there…which isn’t very promising. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Em, the man called in a favor with the GOVERNOR to get you late admittance into Loyola.” Everyone around the table stared at her in disbelief. That little tidbit wasn’t really something she wanted public. “Please talk to him. Find out if he has any advice or knows who’s who over there and who REALLY to talk to. We don’t have time to learn by trial and error. I’d consider it a personal favor.”

Emily blushed. She looked around the table. The eyes meeting hers were filled with hope, awe, and wonder. “Okay…I’ll make a few calls…but I’m not promising anything…”

“Great! Oh, and I also need you to give massages…”

Emily threw her wadded up napkin across the table at him. The laughter around the table seemed to break the tension caused by the unveiling of the massive project.

Rivkah took the break as an opportunity to bring out dessert and started serving coffee. Charli connected her laptop to the projector and highlighted some of her work and she and Jim brainstormed ideas of what the virtual environment could look like. This time, there were no accidental flips to Mistress Michelle’s video clips, thankfully. To her surprise, Chad seemed truly excited by several of the bands that appeared on the wall. He actually knew quite a few and said he’d even gone to several of their concerts. Once again, Charli found herself wishing that the good looking jock wasn’t a frat guy…she just couldn’t see herself ever falling for one of those…still, he definitely wasn’t like the stereotype she’d so carefully built in her mind.

As discussions moved from criticism to idea generation, the hours flew by. At midnight, Gregg ordered a halt to the discussions, saying everyone had work in the morning, and that the back and forths could continue tomorrow. He even declared that his apartment, the one he almost never used would be project headquarters. He’d make sure everyone had a key by tomorrow.

For Charli and Chad, the call to end the night’s discussions put a damper on their debate over which was the better psychobilly band: the Nekromantics or The Creepshow. As Charli packed away her laptop, she looked over at Heather who was watching the two of them intently, a small smile on her face. Charli weakly returned the smile, the memory of their brief kiss causing her knees to feel watery again.

Jim was about to offer Charli a ride home, but just as he opened his mouth, Heather suggested, “Chad, could you walk Charli back to her dorm? It’s too late in the evening for her to be out alone.” Chad didn’t hesitate to agree, looking forward to picking the brain of a fellow lover of dark metal musics. Charli again blushed, wondering if people were beginning to think her face was a red strobe light.

Jim and Sarah were the first to leave, followed soon after by Chad and Charli. Heather escorted them to the door, giving Charli a much more chaste kiss goodbye on the cheek that, to Charli’s surprise, left her somewhat sad it wasn’t more. Heather then pulled Chad away for a moment out of listening range of their whispers, saying she needed to ask him a special favor. Although she couldn’t hear what was being said, the worried look on her face made it clear that this was no light matter. She managed to pick out Gregg’s name and the word “Scottish,” but she couldn’t piece together the relationship. Chad listened intently, and despite the puzzled look on his face at her request, he agreed. Even though Charli knew that no person could deny the beautiful redhead any request, she was surprised to see the look of relief on Heather’s face when Chad agreed. Impulsively Heather stepped up on tip-toes and kissed Chad on the lips with more than passing familiarity.

As if remembering that Charli was there, Heather took a step back and smoothed away an imaginary wrinkle in Chad’s shirt and mouthed a silent, “Thank you.” A wave of jealously passed over Charli, but she bitterly fought it down – not because she was jealous of Heather per se, but because she couldn’t believe she was jealous over the frat guy with the charming smile. With her confused emotions still clouding her brain, Chad led her out the door and into the night.

Upstairs, Gregg and Emily were helping E’dan and Rivkah clean up. When Heather tried to help, Rivkah sighed and announced, “Tatelah, why don’t you take Gregg home? There are too many people in my kitchen right now.”

Heather didn’t need to be asked twice. “You coming Emily?”

“No, not tonight. I’m going to stay…and help clean…” The twinkle in her eye made it clear that cleaning was the last thing on her mind. The hungry smile on E’dan’s face was all the confirmation that was needed.

Gregg and Heather were shooed out the door and they were certain that, despite Rivkah’s desire for a clean kitchen, the dishes would wait until morning.

Turning to Gregg, Heather spoke in that cloyingly sweet tone she used when she greeted him at the door before dinner. “Well Professor, I’d say your meeting was a success. Do you think you have enough energy left to show me that lesson I missed in class today?”

Gregg smiled, happy with the success of the day. ‘All in all, it’s been a good day,’ he thought, taking Heather’s hand and practically running down the stairs. They didn’t even bother stopping at Heather’s apartment on their way out for a change of clothes. The ten minutes it took for the two of them to walk (almost a run) back to Gregg’s apartment never seemed so long.

Just as Gregg and his guests were sitting down for dinner, Laura was in the sorority house dining hall sitting down for hers. She played listlessly with the roasted potatoes on her plate while she fidgeted in her chair. She didn’t know if it was her still tender bottom from Dr. Walter’s swatting earlier that made her uncomfortable or if it was the girl sitting across from her. Brittany Anderson, President of Omega Xi, was probably the only person in the world who made Laura uncomfortable…before she met Dr. Walters, that is.

A year older than Laura, Brittany was somewhat of a legend in the OX house. Her rise to power was unprecedented – having been elected to the office of Secretary (the office Laura now held) immediately after her pledge period. Newly raised full members were eligible to hold office, but before Brittany, none ever had. She was as efficient and as ruthless as she was beautiful. Brittany was one of the few people Laura couldn’t deny was even prettier than she…well, and maybe Dr. Walter’s girlfriend, from what little she could see of her from the curb.

Standing maybe only five-foot-one, Brittany made up for her short stature with supreme confidence and flawless beauty. Her normally chestnut brown hair was meticulously highlighted to the point where it was difficult to tell if she was blonde or brunette. Her nails were French manicured and her brown eyes were wide and innocent, which often gave her the edge of surprise when she unleashed the brunt of her anger on an unsuspecting foe. Her figure was just slightly top-heavy for her petite size, with a narrow waist and firm breasts. Laura was envious that, to the best of her knowledge, Brittany had never set foot inside a gym to maintain her perfect hour glass figure. But that was the least on a long list of things she hated about the woman.

“Are you feeling okay? You’ve hardly touched your food and you’ve been squirming around in your seat like you’ve got ants in your pants.”

Laura weakly smiled, knowing Brittany couldn’t care less about her health. “No…I mean…yeah…I…I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately.”

“Well you better get over it quickly. I understand that you turned down two appointments this weekend. Your earnings are good, but you can’t afford to keep turning men away.”

Before this afternoon, reference to the sororities, “escorting” services would not have fazed her. But for some reason, at the moment the idea of spending a night with a rich and grabby man just soured her stomach. Most people in the know on campus figured that the girls in XO were generally glamorous enough to be models, but few knew that it was policy that ALL members use their looks to earn money. Dues were to be paid from a share in earnings. It didn’t matter how much money Daddy had in the bank, either you ‘earned’ your living, or your money was no good. It was one of the reasons that membership was so exclusive and the pledge period so long. It was vitally important that those not willing to use their bodies to their full potential get weeded out before they could divulge secrets. Once raised to full membership, measures were taken to prevent anyone from breaking their strict behavior codes. Omega Xi sorority was founded on the philosophy that beautiful women should be able to support themselves and use their beauty to get whatever they needed or wanted. Over the years that ideal was corrupted somewhat, coming to mean that sex and sexuality was the key to a financial future – whether that meant learning to earn and manage your money, or learning how to seduce the right man…

It was also a well known, yet unconfirmed secret that Brittany was not above using blackmail and other devious means to get what she wanted. Of course, there was no one who would substantiate any of the rumors, but most full members were pretty certain that Brittany’s locked file cabinet contained more than graded homework and paid phone bills.

“Look, you’re supposed to be setting an example for the pledges. By the end of this semester, most of them will hopefully go active, but they need to see what an earner like you is capable of. You’ve been moping around like some lovesick teen. So, whatever the problem is – ” Brittany leaned in close for emphasis and secrecy, “ – get the fuck over it. You’re supposed to be a leader here…act like it.” Laura winced silently to herself, and nodded, accepting her chastisement with far more humility than she normally would have shown.

Brittany consistently out-earned her by more than three-to-one, yet she went out maybe only half as often. The lowest earners only modeled or served as escorts. The ones willing to go the extra mile brought in that much more money. The house kept files on who brought in how much money and from which clients. No one honestly believed that Brittany was THAT good a lay to warrant three—, four—, even five-times what others got for a night in the sack.

There was basically no limit to how members used their sexuality to earn money – the only caveat was to not get caught on film. This was especially true in the age of the internet, where a single video clip could come back to haunt you years later. Any member having a video clip circulated online was immediately expelled from the sorority…after other appropriate punishments were inflicted. Reputation for XOs was everything.

Despite their willingness to sleep with men for money, so far only Brittany seemed to have no compunction against blackmail to continually bleed “clients” long after her initial services were complete. So far her efforts to make her behavior into house policy had failed, but it was only a matter of time, especially since her files didn’t only contain information on people OUTSIDE the house…It was obvious how little Brittany thought of her fellow sisters who put up with men (and sometimes women) who’d grope and fondle their bodies. For her, that was just a means to an end. And that end was power. She was biding her time here at the college until she graduated, and then she’d use her “sphere of influence” to get filthy stinking rich.

As members of the sorority high council, Laura and Brittany sat together at one table with others sitting at other tables appropriate to their places in the strict social hierarchy. Fraternity members, this week from Delta Pi Psi (made up mostly of young Republicans) were serving as house boys – serving food, cleaning tables, floors, and windows, doing yard work. It was no trouble getting volunteers from the Fraternal Council to wait on them hand and foot. As Secretary, one of Laura’s duties was to schedule which frat ‘volunteered’ each week. Some worked out of a sense of duty or obligation, but most just did it for the chance to be around the most beautiful women on campus. Most hoped to be among the lucky few who’d catch the eye of one of the sorority girls and be invited to the VIP room during one of the sorority’s famous parties. Few knew what happened behind those closed doors away from the rest of the crowd, and those that had been there swore they couldn’t tell. But, it was clear that that was an invitation to be treasured.

Brittany watched Laura’s pledge, Natalie, across the room staring at them with barely masked contempt. “Why do you put up with her attitude?”

“Who?”

Brittany rolled her eyes, “Natalie! God, you’re such an idiot. For the past several weeks, she’s had the worst attitude toward you…and I’m beginning to see why. Unacceptable in my mind. Why haven’t you dropped her yet?”

Laura gulped, unable to explain that she was commanded by her master to see to it that Natalie made it through. Thinking quickly, “I hoped my extra harsh punishments would get her to quit on her own, but she seems determined to stay. It’s…it’s tough love. I’m willing to bet she’ll be a future president here.”

Brittany looked at her table partner skeptically. “I sincerely doubt that. But it’s your call. In the meantime, I need to take one more general ed course this Fall. Any suggestions?”

“I don’t know. You could always take something easy, like Rocks for Jocks.” The Geology 1001 course was notorious for giving easy ‘A’s, especially to pretty girls and football stars. Really, it didn’t matter for Brittany. Laura couldn’t remember ever seeing her even open a notebook, much less study…and yet, she always managed an A or a B in every course…and it was clear her grades had nothing to do with textbook learning or being a secret genius.

“Blah. I don’t feel like getting groped by one of those crusty old granite-heads. What are you taking?”

Laura desperately wanted to lie, but knew Brittany would see right through it. So, “I’m taking Anthropology 1101.”

“Why on earth would you take that!?”

“I…I heard the professor is new…cute.”

Brittany pondered her “friend” for a minute. “Well, whatever. Sign me up for that too. It’ll be easier to pass the time if I had a ‘friend’ in class with me. Besides, if he’s young, then I’m sure I can convince him how deserving I am for a passing grade…” Brittany’s tongue traced her lips as if practicing her seduction. “Just in case, sign up Natalie too. We may need someone to do our homework for us.”

Laura cringed at the thought of having to share a class with both girls, let alone a class with Dr. Walters. Really, she just wanted an excuse to stare at him for three more hours a week. Thoughts of him caused her lust to swell and she shivered in spite of herself knowing that tomorrow she had an “appointment” with him that included her pledge paddle. Her asscheeks involuntarily started to tingle just at the thought.

Brittany was completely disinterested in whatever was going through Laura’s mind. Grabbing one of the passing frat boys, “You, whatever your name is. Come to my room and give me a foot rub.” The boy smiled as if he’d been awarded a million dollars, following obediently like a dog, no doubt pondering what the impossibly beautiful woman REALLY meant by ‘foot rub.’ Laura shook her head, knowing that Brittany’s feet were all he was going to see…ever. Someone asked to perform such a menial task had no chance of being invited to the next VIP party.

Despite her getting lectured by the high-and-mighty Brittany, and the continued glares from Natalie from across the room; despite the lingering pain in her ass and the throbbing stretch between her legs from where her master had finally “blessed” her (the word ‘master’ carrying no hint of sarcasm or irony), still she thought, ‘This has been good day.’

Vinnie listened to the man sitting across the table from him. Paul was the newest member of his crew, and eager to please. “…And it only took a couple punches in the gut to jog the bartender’s memory. It was Heather – definitely Heather – and some guy he’d never seen before. Apparently they were pretty lovie-dubbie. I don’t think she was turning tricks… I think it was just a date.”

Seething in anger, Vinnie did his best to remain composed. Three weeks ago he woke up in a hospital bed with jaw wired shut. He had no memory of how he got there, only that he was in intense pain. Strangest of all, Cathy, his current squeeze was nowhere to be found. But now it was all starting to make sense.

“So, according the bartender, you and Cathy show up, there’s some words spoken, and suddenly you do a face-plant on the table! Cathy used the phone to call 9-1-1. The bartender thought she was waiting outside for the ambulance, but I guess she ran away when it arrived.”

It was all perfectly clear. Heather was the one who got away. When she worked for him, she was his best stripper. She and Cathy were close…maybe too close. On the day he decided that Heather was going to star in his fledgling porno business, the fiery redhead disappeared. Settling for second best, he drafted Cathy. Two of his boys held her down and he shot her full of heroine. In just a few days time, she was hopelessly addicted and willing to satisfy any sick fetish just to get another high, even mutely accepting a couple of boob jobs.

So, he runs into Heather and some Chuck Norris wannabe at the restaurant and gets knocked flat on his ass. Well, that bitch will pay for making him lose face. No one fucks with Vinnie.

Speaking slowly so those around the table could understand (not easy given his inability to open his jaw), “Find out where she lives. But don’t do anything yet. This is personal.” Using a handkerchief to wipe the drool that dribbled down his chin, he winced in pain when he pressed too hard. When no one got up from the table, he slammed his fist down, spilling his protein shake – his main source of nutrients until the dental cage could be removed. “NOW! GET MOVING!!” he shouted, saliva spraying across the table.

Vinnie’s brief exertion caused a wave of nausea to go through him, and he fought hard to keep the vomit in check. There was no pain worse than vomiting through surgically shut teeth. Regaining his balance, he came to terms with fact that his revenge would have to wait a little while. ‘But when I’m 100% bitch, I’m coming for you. I wonder what you’ll think when you come home one day to see your walls decorated with your boyfriend’s brains…Yes, that will truly be a good day…’

It was 2am and Charli wasn’t tired at all. Two hours ago Chad had walked her back to her dormitory. They’d talked about music the entire time. Charli was especially surprised by Chad’s breadth of knowledge, especially when it came to Blind Guardian’s music, one of her favorite bands. He was able to quote lyrics word for word and then reference the Tolkien books that inspired the passages. Every assumption about him being a dumb jock frat asshole were quickly being seared away. She was soon feeling so comfortable around him that she was actually ashamed of her earlier preconceptions. She wanted to hate him – hate everything he stood for: good looks, good physique, fraternity mentality, jock mentality…and yet here she was, unable to resolve the conflicting feelings she was experiencing. What made it especially difficult was that she was still just recovering from her crush with Gregg, which ended abruptly only hours ago.

When they got back to her place just after midnight, Charli impulsively invited him in, the words leaving her mouth before her brain could stop them. Because her roommate was probably asleep, they holed up in her floor’s study lounge. She turned on her computer, crept into her room for a Y-adaptor and a second pair of headphones, and the two of them listened to music and talked animatedly about what they liked or didn’t like for almost two hours. Chad listened intently whenever Charli talked about what some of his favorite bands were like in person, having met most of them at one point or another at the Black Box, where she practically grew up. For those two hours, Charli was able to forget all her prejudices and all the reasons why she was ‘supposed’ to hate this handsome, witty guy.

Now, standing outside the dorm’s entryway, Chad bid her goodnight. “I’m glad I finally got to meet you. Gregg kept going on and on…but he didn’t do justice to just how cool you really are.” Charli blushed, her hair escaping from behind her ears to cover her face. Almost instinctively now, she brushed them back, no longer seeking refuge behind her thick black curtain. “Try to get some sleep, it’s been a long day and tomorrow will be even longer. I’ll see you at Gregg’s at nine.”

As Chad turned to walk away, Charli grabbed his arm and pulled herself up on tip-toes, planting an awkward kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Realizing what she’d just done, (and more importantly how badly she did it!) she blushed fiercely and spun to run back inside, saying “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

But before she could finish that sentence, Chad caught her arm, spun her back to face him, and gently lowered his mouth to hers. Charli was stunned. For long seconds they held their pose, closed lips to closed lips. Chad pulled back a little and Charli’s mouth opened a hair to breathe which allowed Chad’s lips to again press forward, capturing her top lip between his two. Sensing that this was her first real kiss, Chad was patient and gentle, his hand releasing her arm to move up and caress the side of her face in much the same way that Heather had earlier.

Pulling back, both took deep breaths, Charli unable or unwilling to open her eyes, lest the dream turn out not to be real. But it was real, and so was that kiss. In a much softer and sweet voice, Chad whispered, “Goodnight Charli. Pleasant dreams,” before giving her one last soft kiss on the lips.

It was 2am and Charli definitely wasn’t tired at all. As Chad turned the corner around the side of the building, Charli had to check that her feet were in fact on solid earth. It was a roller-coaster day of emotions. And yet, ‘It turned out to be a good day.’

It was 1am and Heather was exhausted…but she was fairly certain sleep wouldn’t be coming soon. The last thing she remembered was her vision tunneling as the long awaited, super-intense orgasm struck. Somehow between passing out and waking up, she’d gotten over to Gregg’s couch in his apartment, curled into a fetal position, and wrapped in blankets. Heather was as much surprised by the intensity of the orgasm she just experienced as she was by the familiar feel of her own body.

This wasn’t the first time she’d lost herself inside her head when Gregg shared a sexual fantasy. That what she just experience had actually happened earlier that day made it all the more intense. The first time it happened was in Tunisia when she, Emily, and Gregg all ‘played doctor.’ There was nothing ‘play’ about it. If asked at that instant, she wouldn’t have been able to distinguish fantasy from reality. When Nurse Emily (or ‘Candy’ as she called herself that night) began her super-sexy examination, she’d completely lost her hold on reality and honestly felt she was being seduced at the doctor’s office.

But this…this was…too real. They’d made it back to the apartment shortly after midnight, and Gregg began describing his earlier encounter with Laura, the blonde she saw from the car, and how he convinced her to come to his apartment. Heather’s pussy was tingling, no doubt as intensely as Laura’s when Gregg led her out into the hall. She wanted to be ‘shown’ everything he’d done to her, so the role play was to begin with her entering his apartment. But…

When she entered the apartment, she felt different. She looked down and she wasn’t in her own body. Gone were her red curls and large breasts. Instead, she was nearly flat chested with straight blonde hair. When Gregg invited her in, she desperately hung on his every word, knowing he was the key to the throbbing desire between her legs. They weren’t her thoughts, words, or actions – they were Laura’s…but Heather felt as if she were experiencing everything the girl had felt, heard, seen, smelled, or tasted. The Heather that loved and respected ‘Gregg’ was replaced with the Laura who worshipped and idolized ‘Dr. Walters.’

Heather experienced every anxiety, every emotion as if she really were Laura. From the disappointment in herself over lying about liking tea instead of coffee to the amazement that Dr. Walters knew she loved Milano cookies. A muted voice inside her head tried to remind her that she DID in fact like tea over coffee, but that voice was ignored, so intent was she on living the fantasy.

Wrapped in the warm blankets, Heather could hear sounds coming from the kitchen, and she knew Gregg was in there. She shifted her legs a bit and she could feel his precious cum begin to trickle out from between her thighs. Instinctively her hand cupped her mound, not wanting to let any of his precious fluids escape. It occurred to her with that thought that she didn’t know if that’s what she honestly felt or if it was a remnant of what Laura supposedly thought.

Part of her desperately wanted to know what happened. How much of what she just experience was real, how much a figment of her imagination? What spell did this man she so desperately loved hold over her? Part of her mind tried to comprehend this, while the other, basking in the white glow of orgasmic bliss patiently told the other part of her brain to shut up. ‘You love Gregg. He’s a good, honest, amazing man who loves you every bit as much as you love him, if not more. Everything he knows about love, you taught him.’

Gregg emerged from the kitchen, still completely naked. Forcing herself to stand, she let the blankets fall to the ground. It was only after stretching weakly that she realized that her ass didn’t hurt like she thought it would. She felt her smooth backside, expecting a surge of spanking-induced pain, but there was none. She looked quizzically at Gregg.

“I couldn’t bring myself to actually spank you with the book like I did Laura. What I did to her was out of anger.”

‘Maybe it was just in my head. If he had hit me as hard as I experienced in that fantasy, my ass should be glowing bright red!’ While relieved she wasn’t in pain, part of her was disappointed, remembering fondly her excitement at being spanked by him after she admitted to her past life as a stripper.

When Gregg put the two mugs he carried down on the table, Heather approached, thankful that the second mug contained tea, not coffee. As Heather gradually accepted that whatever just happened to her was only in her head, she curled up in Gregg’s lap, resting her head on his shoulder. For long minutes she just wanted to be held, knowing that the anger and animosity she experienced was not actually directed at her, but at someone else – someone else who simultaneously got beaten down then fucked beyond measure. There was a darkness buried deep inside Gregg to be able to inflict such punishment, and she was thankful that, in this real world at least, she only experienced his love. Heather lifted her head to gaze into Gregg’s eyes, confirming in her mind what her heart knew to be true. But his face bore a mask of consternation almost identical to her own.

“What is it Gregg?”

“I…I didn’t mean for you to experience…everything. I thought we were just going to play-act, but it…it just became so real for me…for you…I couldn’t control it…”

“What do you mean, ‘control it?’ I’m the one who passed out. When you finally fucked me, GOD! It was like I’d been waiting for you to be inside me for weeks!”

“That’s what I mean. I didn’t…I didn’t mean for it to be so…real…not for you at least.”

Despite the questions Heather had, she could see Gregg was getting somewhat distraught over his fear that he’d really hurt her in some way. When she and Gregg first began their relationship, months after working together at the dig, Gregg was much like a child when it came to his sexuality. He knew next to nothing, beyond what he learned on his own with Emily in the hospital. It was strange to think of a grown man in such terms, but Heather had to remind herself that many of the darker sides of sex were completely foreign to him. Seeing the abuse and control that was daily bread in the strip clubs, Heather realized that what she took for granted could be really upsetting to the uninitiated. “Gregg, you were amazing. I totally lost myself in the fantasy. That’s what fantasy’s supposed to be about, right?”

Gregg, nodded, unable to look into her eyes. “I just…Heather, I love you, you know that, right?”

It was Heather’s turn to nod.

“I…I just couldn’t live with myself if you thought I meant any of those things I made you say…about swearing loyalty or any of that. I only put Laura through all that because of what she did to Charli.”

“Well, mean it or not, if that girl experienced HALF of what I just did, then…well trust me, you own her.”

The reality of that statement hit Gregg like a ton of bricks. He didn’t want to OWN anybody. He just wanted to teach her a lesson. Like so many things since he got the power, the lesson devolved into something sexual. Heather’s words rang painfully true in his mind like a church bell from ten feet away.

Heather stood from Gregg’s lap, their teas still untouched, and padded over toward his bedroom. When she reached the doorway she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Gregg, come to bed.”

Gregg hesitated in his chair, the image of Laura kneeling between his legs swearing fealty over his cock flashing back and forth with the image of Heather swearing fealty. He recalled his recurring vision of Heather, or his dream counterpart of her, kneeling reverently at his throne, his cock in her mouth. The vision was explicitly clear that if that came to pass, the end would not be good. Silently he hoped that Heather’s experiencing Laura’s subjugation didn’t count…

Gregg was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. The day had begun with the horrific nightmare, one unlike any he had experienced since gaining his power. Heather had soothed away his troubled mind in a manner in which she had no equal. Then Emily joined in the fun. At lunch he was confronted by Charli who was clever enough to know he was behind Laura’s attitude-shift. At least she didn’t know the details of what he did…she may never speak to him again if she knew.

After getting a late start to the day, he spent the early afternoon arranging things for tonight’s meeting. This was followed by the “lesson” he had to teach Laura, one in which he now found himself saddled with a “slave”. Then a near five-hour dinner/meeting/skull-session where he put all his cards on the table in an effort to try to save the dig for the stated reasons, but also for the secret reason that he was sure it was only at the site that he could find the answers to what this power really was that he had somehow inherited through a bolt of lightning. And now he had just relived Laura’s punishment a second time, but this time inflicting it on the woman he loved…barely holding back all that she experienced. Heather seemed to accept it all as fantasy, but if she hadn’t appeared so much like Laura in his mind at those moments – if the fantasy hadn’t been made so real – he would never have done all that he’d done…it was something a less tired mind would not have attempted.

Turning his head to the bedroom doorway, he saw that Heather hadn’t moved an inch, waiting for Gregg to follow. She was the epitome of sexual perfection. She held onto the doorframe at her left just slightly higher than eye level, her other hand resting on her naked hip. With one knee slightly bent, she looked over her shoulder at Gregg who stared back at her tiredly, yet in rapture by the stunning sight of Heather’s erotic pose. Her legs were long and smooth, and as cliché as it sounds, they honestly seemed to go on forever. Capping her beautiful stems, Heather’s perfect, round ass dimpled as she shifted her weight from one foot to another. With her arm raised slightly above her head, Gregg had a tantalizing view of one heavy breast that rose and fell hypnotically in time with her breathing. Her thick mane of gorgeous dark red curls hung over her shoulder, framing her face with its full pouty lips, slightly upturned nose, and incandescent green eyes that shone with sensuality.

There was nothing left in Gregg’s mind. His brain had given up trying to absorb all that happened in this one day. With his brain punching out, his body took matters into its own hands, so to speak. The vision of sex and beauty standing in the doorway a mere ten feet away had awakened the unquenchable sexual hunger that trumped sleep, for the time being at least.

As if sensing Gregg’s malleable state, Heather held her pose, letting her body do what she knew words couldn’t. Seeing his cock standing at rapt attention in his lap, even if his eyes were vacant, Heather knew that, at least for the moment, she was in command. In tonight’s fantasy, she may have pledged herself to Gregg, a pledge she’d make again and again on any given day if he asked, but now she held the power – the simple, yet undeniable power of her carefully honed and mastered sexuality.

“Gregg, come here. Join me.” Still, her pose remained unchanged.

Gregg stood from the chair and with that simple act of obedience he felt his consciousness extend out from himself and join with Heather. It happened these days almost without thinking, that when they joined sexually, they also joined through his power, something she hopefully remained unaware of. But this time it was different. It had always been more of a pushing sensation – Gregg pushing his awareness out toward Heather. Now it felt like she was pulling him in, an unsettling thought that for the time being he was unable or unwilling to deconstruct.

Gregg pressed himself against Heather’s backside, his cock nestled warmly between the cheeks of her ass. His arms circled around her waist, his hands first rubbing gently around her flat stomach, then each going their separate ways, one to heft and squeeze one of her magnificent breasts, the other to rub gently between her legs. Heather moaned at his touch, releasing her hip and pulling his groin tighter against her ass; releasing the doorframe and pulling his head down to her neck so he could kiss and lick her there.

All of Heather’s erogenous zones were burning with desire. Her pussy ached with the memory of the last fucking she received and yet demanded more. Heather turned her head even more and Gregg’s lips met hers, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths, his hands becoming more insistent.

Breaking away suddenly, Heather held Gregg at arm’s length, both panting breathlessly. Latching onto his rampant member like a leash, she pulled him into the bedroom. Positioning him so he stood between the bed and the bathroom, she gave him a simple command, “Stand here. Don’t move.” To Gregg’s dismay, he watched as Heather disappeared behind the bathroom door which closed leaving the room dark.

After an interminable wait, the door opened again, the bathroom light blinding his dark-adjusted vision. Rather than shutting the light, she closed the door most of the way, letting only a trickle of light dimly fill the room. Gregg’s pulse quickened at her approach. When she was but inches away, he could see that her look was one of command.

Putting her fists on her hips and spreading her legs shoulder-width apart, Heather took a moment to look over her prey. Gregg’s cock was standing at attention, a hair’s breadth away from pressing against her stomach. “Kneel Gregg.”

Unable to do anything but obey this goddess of sexuality before him, his knees folded and he thumped to the floor, his vision now filled with her inviting mound, her scent partially masked by the familiar floral soap she kept in his bathroom. Gregg leaned his face forward in an effort to burry his tongue in her sweet honey pot, but his effort was thwarted by Heather’s hands knotting in his hair. Try as he might, he couldn’t get his mouth to close the short distance to his goal. With his progress halted just before entry, he groaned in frustration. Held mere inches away, he managed to snake out his tongue and touch the small triangle of trimmed hair just above her clit. The taste was heavenly but rather than satisfying his hunger, it only served to increase his need.

“Swear Gregg.”

“What?”

“Swear that I am yours.”

“Please—” Heather’s pussy lips flexed moistly, the dewy secretions making soft squishing sounds as her own excitement threatened to ruin her fantasy.

“Gregg! Swear! Now!” Her need was almost as great as his, her fingers tightening almost painfully in his hair. “Swear that I am yours and you are mine, that we are one.” Heather couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. She intended this to only be a little turn-around fun, but the words seemed to be coming from some deeper place.

“I swear,” Gregg said, followed more intently by, “My Queen.” Gregg’s words broke whatever spell that held Heather along with her grip on his head. Sensing his freedom, his mouth shot forward, engulfing her wet labia, no longer smelling of the soap she used to clean herself, but only of the copious juices she produced. Gregg had barely begun lapping and sucking at her swollen cunt lips when Heather started cumming. Her spasms and jerks did nothing to slow the desperate sucking Gregg was inflicting on her. Only his hands on her ass and her grip on his head kept her from collapsing to the ground.

Through the shakes and spasms Heather finally managed to whisper a single word: “Stop.” As if a switch had been shut off, Gregg pulled back, though it pained him to do so. Tonight, he would obey. Tonight she was in charge. Heather took several minutes to regain her balance. She fought back the tears of frustration she’d just inflicted upon herself, ending his passionate worship between her legs.

Finally regaining some composure, she pulled Gregg up and had him stand next to the bed. Heather crawled onto the bed facing Gregg. She took his cock into her mouth and inhaled him to the root, no easy feat, but one she had mastered with all their practice. Her throat made constricting noises around his incredible girth, but in this position with her head pulled back, taking him deep was definitely easier. Gregg held rock still as she moved her face slowly up and down his meat. When she pulled back, his cock glistened with the slick saliva that now coated it.

Turning around, Heather put her shoulders to the mattress and stuck her round ass up in the air. “Fuck me Gregg. But don’t cum!” As Gregg climbed onto the bed and pressed his cock against her waiting vaginal lips, he could feel the mental funnel that channeled some of his excitement away from himself and into his partner form. It appeared not at his command, but at hers. If she had any sense of the control she had over him right now, she gave no indication. She simply moaned in pleasure as his girth once again stretched her so painfully, so pleasantly.

Gregg quickly settled into a steady, yet relentless fucking rhythm. The old mattress and box spring squeaked beneath their labor almost as loudly as Heather groaned. Combined with the steady slapping of his pelvis against her ass, the room was a veritable symphony of sexual music.

Heather couldn’t believe the pleasure she was experiencing. Passing minutes soon became a half-hour and per her order, Gregg obediently hadn’t cum, despite the plethora of orgasms she’d experienced. In fact, he hadn’t even broken stride.

“Stop Gregg. Please.” Her ‘please’ was unnecessary, but her pleasure-addled mind was falling back into old patterns. Gregg stopped and pulled his mammoth organ out from her sopping channel. Heather fell forward, her hand clasping her now vacant cunt. She fought back the disappointment that she didn’t have him cum inside her again, but she had other plans. Rolling onto her back, Gregg was surprised by her next command.

“Sit on my stomach.” Confused, Gregg nevertheless obeyed. Straddling her abdomen, she crooked her finger, indicating he was to scoot forward. When his thighs were just under her breasts, she lifted her head forward and sucked the tip of his cock into her mouth. She just loved how he tasted when covered with her own juices. Careful to suck just the tip, she made sure the rest of his cock remained coated in her slick cream.

Heather removed his cock from her mouth and placed it in the valley between her breasts. Lifting one giant tit in each hand, she engulfed his tool in her warm flesh, the tip peeking out under her chin.

“I want you to fuck my tits, Gregg.” Gregg immediately obeyed, moving his hips back and forth in small motions, unfamiliar with this new position. To his surprise, her skin felt incredibly good around his cock.

“Doesn’t fucking my tits feel good, Gregg? These tits are yours Gregg. They’re yours to admire, to play with, to fuck!” Heather’s narration was incredibly exciting. Finally getting into the rhythm of tit-fucking, Gregg replaced Heather’s hands with his own, pressing her breasts tighter against his thrusting cock. His thumbs pressed against her nipples and she groaned. Gregg realized that much of his pleasure was still being directed into Heather, and despite not being anywhere near her pussy, she was rapidly approaching another orgasm.

“That’s it Gregg! Fuck my tits! Fuck my beautiful tits! Oh God! I’m so fucking turned on! Oh shit! Pinch my nipples! I think I’m going to cum!” Heather’s hands covered Gregg’s, almost guiding his movements. Her tongue snaked out and licked the head of his cock with each thrust. She couldn’t believe how excited she was getting, the visceral pleasure alone driving her lust.

Just as her own pleasure was about to peak, Heather gave her last command for the night. “Cum Gregg! Cum on me! Ahhh!” Released from his earlier command not to cum, Gregg pressed down on her tits with all his weight and jabbed savagely between her mounds. Like a dam bursting, time slowed down and just as Heather’s pleasure crested, she could almost feel Gregg’s mammoth cock swell in size as the first spurt of cum began its journey from his balls. She could almost hear the thick white sap escape from the tip of his cock.

The impossibly long stream of cum drilled into her skin just below her chin, and ran down either side of her neck. A second spurt joined the first and then a third. Instinctively, Gregg stood, and forth, fifth, sixth, and seventh spurts shot from his cock to cover her tits.

Heather writhed in pleasure, each string of cum causing another spasm of pleasure to wrack her body. Her hands massaged his essence into her skin as more and more continued to rain down upon her. She’d always laughed at the idea of tit fucking, thinking it silly and pretty disgusting. Guys always wanted to do it to her, but she never allowed it. But as has been the case ever since she met Gregg, her rational mind was shoved aside while her body reveled in pleasure. Only Gregg could make her feel this good, and the strength of her orgasm (completely devoid of any vaginal stimulation) was testament that she and Gregg should do this again…soon.

Completely spent, Gregg’s knees folded and he sat wetly back down on Heather’s slimy stomach. His cock fell from his hands to lay in the puddle of cum that was her chest and neck. Heather again lifted her tits to engulf his now softening length, coating his whole length in his spending. Involuntarily, Gregg’s hips moved slowly back and forth, making sticky noises as her efforts coaxed the last of his cum from its source produced a weak dribble of precious fluid. Heather released her tits and pulled his soaked member to her mouth. Her gentle suction caused Gregg to jerk and spasm, his body refusing to accept that the orgasm was over.

When Gregg’s head stopped spinning and he slowly returned to his senses, he took in the vision beneath him. He used his finger to wipe off a large dollop of cum that had splashed onto her cheek. Heather immediately grabbed his hand and pulled his finger into her mouth, making a show of sucking it in to the knuckle and licking it all around. Making sure her overtly sexual display had his attention, she quipped, “So Gregg. Can your little slave do that?”

Gregg smiled, finding it funny that Heather, the sexiest woman he could imagine would feel a need to show her superiority. “No, my love. She pales in comparison to you – in body, mind, and spirit.”

“Good. Don’t ever forget that.” Heather looked at the clock on the night stand which now read 2am. Once again, reality trumped fantasy. “We need to get some sleep. I’ve got to work in the Admissions office before meeting with Professor Whyte, and you’ve got a 9am ‘lesson’ to teach.” Heather looked up at him with a playful smirk on her face. “Remember, don’t waste all your energy on that…‘child’…you’ve got work to do and a WOMAN you need to keep satisfied.”

Gregg lifted his leg so Heather could get to the bathroom and start their shower. As he stood from the bed himself, he smiled and said, “Yes my queen.” It was an uneasy feeling knowing that by relinquishing command to Heather, even for just an hour, he had also given her complete control over his powers. He didn’t trust anyone half as much as her, but still, any thoughts to tell her the whole truth were quashed…for now at least.

Heather turned on the water tap, feeling the stream with her fingers, adjusting the temperature so it was just right before redirecting it to the shower head. Gregg’s frame filled the doorway behind her, his long, limp cock hanging between his legs. His cum was still dripping down her own body, and Heather took a second to reflect on the evening. She never thought before meeting Gregg that she’d be okay with someone she loved having so many other partners, despite the fact that she shared most of them. She never thought she could be with someone who could become so distraught over a dream and still thoroughly dominate her sexually that night. Gregg was still learning the breadth of his sexuality and yet still pushing her own boundaries as well.

Yes, their pledges of loyalty were roleplay, but as far as she was concerned, they were real. He need not ask, for he never would. But she was his – body and soul.

She held back the curtain for Gregg and followed him into the tub. Catching in the mirror the image of own voluptuous figure covered in the seemingly inhuman volume of her lover’s cum, she pulled the curtain shut and began soaping up a washcloth. ‘Yes,’ she thought, “Today was definitely a good day.”