naked

After knocking on her door two or three times I walked around the side of her house. Going through the side gate I spotted her face down sun bathing in the nude. I quietly walked up to her feet and gazed at her sensuous body. Looking up her long legs to her ass, then up to the small of her back I notice the sheen of the sun tan lotion glistering in the bright sunlight. I stopped at her symmetrical shoulder blades and took in this beautiful sight for a moment or two before I cleared my throat.



She cocked her head quickly and said, “Bout time you got your ass here!”



“It took me awhile to find an excuse to leave the wife,” I responded.



As she turned on to her back she said, “Don’t just stand there. I know you want a piece.”



“Not with you covered with all that oil!” I exclaimed. “You remember the last time we tried to fuck, with you smothered in oil, right?”



“Oh yeah, I laughed so hard I had an orgasm,” she shot back. “Seeing you slide off me and falling on the floor was a hoot.”



“Yeah right, I busted my nose open and had a helluva time explaining that to the wife,” I boasted.



“You? I had to walk around a week with a sock on my foot,” she continued. “My husband wanted to know how our floor got stained with blood.”



Lifting herself up on her elbows she grabbed a glass and took a swallow. She laid back down and spit out an ice cube. It shot straight up in the air and landed right between her eyes. I chuckled.



“You’re a dick!” she shouted.



Then she grabbed another ice cube and spit it out again. This time it landed just above her belly button. She grabbed it and slowly rubbed it down her tan belly, over her clit and she stuck it in her pussy.



“Can you grab that with your tongue please, dear?” she said.



I answered, “I would love to take the tip of my talented tongue and retrieve that. As soon as you take a shower. No telling what’s been in there!”



I noticed she was getting perturbed as she took her hands and started to squeeze her perfectly tanned breasts. She then slowly spread her legs as she ran her hands down her sweat covered stomach and then to her womanly mound and opened her pussy. There she was, covered in oil spread wide and pleasuring herself.



In a sultry voice she moaned, “Fuck me now, baby. Come on I know you want too!”



I turned away and started to go inside saying, “Get up and take a shower. Then you’ll beg me to tie you up and fuck you silly. Not that you’re not already silly,” as an ice cube flew by my head.



I walked into the kitchen and made a drink. I sat down and waited for her to come inside. When she did she slipped and almost fell on her ass. I chuckled again when she said.



“Fuck you! Dick head.”



She made a drink and stood right in front of me and started to play with herself.



“You want to fuck me don’t you?” she said with a smile.



“As soon as you take a shower and beg me,” I answered.



In a pissed off voice she said, “I don’t know why I let you fuck me with that small dick of yours. I’ve seen bigger dicks on the neighborhood dogs!”



“Being a bitch I’m sure you know them intimately!” I shot back.



Giving me a dirty looked she turned and walked towards the bathroom.



“If you want to join me I’ll leave the bathroom door open, prick,” she said.



I gave her a few moments to cool down and went and sat down on the toilet while she bathed. Picking up a Victoria’s Secret magazine I flipped through the pages while taking in the clean fresh smell of her bathroom. The nick knacks placed around gave the room a feeling of million dollar mansion.



And said, “Damn there are some hot looking babes in this magazine. It’s funny…”



“What’s funny?”



“I don’t see you in any of these shots.”



That’s when she pulled back the curtain and a wet rag hit the side of my face. I picked up the rag and handed it back to her staring at the water running down her front. She was covered in soap and started to run the rag over her breasts. She turned sideways and her silhouette was outlined by the sun shinning through the window. The water was running down her chest, over her breast and formed drops on the tip of her erect nipples. The sun was bright enough to see the inverted window in the droplets. I noticed her all over perfect tan with no noticeable tan lines. Her body was bronze from head to toe. Such a delectable body.



Grabbing a can of shaving cream she lifted a leg up and placed it on the side of the tub right in front of me. She slowly made a pile on her palm that reminded me of a vanilla ice cream cone. Staring straight into my eyes without saying a word she spread the cream on her pussy. And gave me a wink. Picking up a razor she began shaving herself pulling her skin tight with the other hand.



When she was done rinsing her self off she said, “Too bad you’re not going to feel how smooth I am today.”



That’s when I knew the battle was on. Who was going to breakdown first!



She got out of the shower and dried off then wrapped her hair with the towel.



Bending over in front of me she remarked, “Be a sweetie and lick my ass will ya?”



I took my open palm and answered, “I’ll lick your ass for ya.”



Smacking her ass as hard as I could. Leaving a red welt on her right ass cheek. She turned around and slapped me. I chuckled. That was the sweetest slap I ever received and the first time she touched me all day.



I followed her into the kitchen thinking how I loved the woman’s movement. Especially when viewed from behind. Seeing her ass move side to side as she walked wearing only a towel, she looked like a Greek Goddess. We made us each a drink and went into the living room taking a seat next to each other on the couch. She turned on a porno movie on the TV.



As we watched a couple fucking she said, “Don’t you wish you had a big dick like that?”



I answered, “I’d need one to feel the sides of that big cunt of yours!”



She punched my in the arm. Then she pulled up her legs and sat cross legged on the couch snuggling up next to me. I looked at her smiling face thinking how lucky I was sitting next to such a beautiful woman. Her eyes sparkled like little diamonds. And her lips were moist and soft. Her complexion reminded me of the finest silk. I glanced at her naked breasts and imagined that a drop of water would run off her smooth skin like a marble on glass. I looked between her legs and notice she was getting quite excited watching the movie. It was the first time I thought about breaking down and having her right there.



I leaned over placing my hand between her legs and resting my other hand on the wall next to her head.



Leaning into her I whispered, “Just beg me to tie you up and we can both have some fun.”



She grabbed me and leaned backwards on the couch pulling me on top of her wrapping her arms and legs around me. Staring at each other nose to nose I could see the lust in her eyes and every time she blinked her eyelashes reminded me of little butterflies stretching their wings. She squeezed harder. I could feel her breasts against my chest and her heart beating a rhythmic cadence. Her warmness of her naked body waned through me. And the smell of her hair was mesmerizing.



“I know you want to fuck me right here right now. I can feel how excited you are,” she said in a sultry voice as she squeezed me again. “Just admit it.”



Pulling back I sat up. She got up and headed back to the bedroom. Being a smart guy I followed her quickly.



She jumped up on the bed and rolled over onto her back and started to play with herself. First two fingers. Then four. Then with both hands she was fucking herself. I walked over and stood next to her nightstand and watched her. She was arching her back and biting her lip. With every thrust her eyes rolled back and I oh so much wanted to have her right then and there. Then she must have had an orgasm as she stopped and smiled at me licking her sultry lips. Looking at me with her hazel eyes she jumped up on all fours and scooted over to the edge of the bed. Her breasts swayed as she stopped at the edge of the King size bed.



With a grin she said, “Bottom drawer under the sweaters. You win!”



I reached over and grabbed the ropes and a bandana. Then I caught her staring at me and we both just looked into each others eyes. We both just stared for a few moments then my eyes roamed her naked body. Her brown hair was long and curly falling down her sides framing her breasts. Her shoulders looked soft to the touch. I saw small goosebumps along her back. And her round ass, oh her lovely round ass was the work of angels. Her slender legs stretched to her lovely feet where ten of the most beautiful toes were waving.



She reach for my pants and unbuttoned them and began to give me head. I watch her lick my shaft up and down. Around the tip and slowly she started to suck my balls. All the while I was again looking at her lovely body. Her long curly hair was flowing along her shoulders bringing my eyes to the small of her back. Her ass jiggled as she jerked and sucked. After a few strokes I had the urge to grab her hair and force me into her soft mouth, but I resisted. I wanted her to do the work for a while.



When I felt I was about to climax I pulled out and told her to lay on the bed. It was my turn. When she laid back spread eagle I almost came right there. She was just so beautiful. Her eyes were sparkling and her naked body shined like a bronze beauty. Her breast were full and perfect. She had a flat stomach and a perfect belly button waiting to be tickled with my tongue. Her pussy was smooth and whispering for attention. But I had work to do.



Grabbing a length of rope I told her, “Babe, bring your lovely feet up to your ass please, Sugar?”



She complied as I wrapped her leg and thigh together and tied it securely. I did the same to her other leg while glancing between her legs.



“The rope feels good touching your skin doesn’t it?”



“Very good!” she answered.



Pulling off my clothes and grabbing the bandana I straddled her belly and gagged her. Even though she likes to be gagged during sex I did it mainly so I didn’t have to hear her complain about my knot tying abilities. She always complained they weren’t pretty enough. Then I grabbed her wrists and tied them to each ankle which pulled her knees to her chest. I stood up and told her how lovely she was laying there so vulnerable and I was about to have my way with her. I could see the corners of her mouth move up into such a beautiful smile.



I knelled so her right leg was between my legs with my cock rubbing against her. Putting both of my hands around her knee I proceeded to massage her leg going so close but not touching her pussy. Reaching under her I felt her ass up. I did the same to her other leg. I could see the wetness of her pussy and knew she was getting very excited. I leaned over her to massage her breast bringing my cock onto her underside of her thigh. As I felt her breasts I slowly rubbed my erection against her. I looked her in the eyes and licked my finger slowly and let her do the same. Then I reached between her legs and slowly massaged her asshole.



After sucking on her nipples for a few minute I worked my tongue slowly down her belly, over her belly button and softly licked her wet pussy. She tasted so fine. Grabbing her feet I pushed her legs back towards her chest bringing her ass up and started to lick her asshole. Then I slowly stuck my tongue in. She was squirming and moaning it at this point.



I couldn’t wait any longer. I grabbed my dick and slowly rubbed her pussy and pushed it in, but just the tip. I moved myself as to massage her for a few seconds the I thrust myself all the way in. Her moist pussy lips surrounded my dick and her warmth encased my shaft. I pumped faster and harder with each thrust. I had noticed that she closed her eyes and laid her head to the side. Her breasts were moving faster as he breathing became deeper with every thrust. I could see little droplets of sweat appear on her skin as I fucked her.



Wrapping my arms around her legs I pushed them as hard as I could against her chest and continued pumping allowing me a deeper penetration. We fucked in unison until I again felt an urge to cum. Then I pulled out and spit on her ass and firmly pushed my dick in her asshole. Very slowly until the head disappeared. With every thrust in her ass she screamed. I rammed as hard as I could. In and out. She was panting and wailing. Pulling on the ropes tied around her ankles. She was shaking her head back and forth flinging her shiny hair. She tightened her muscles just at the right time as I came in her. I looked down still pumping her and saw cum streaming down her ass.



I finally collapsed on top of her as she squeezed me with her legs. Catching my breath I got up telling her, “You’re such a great fuck dear.”



I watched the cum drip from her ass as I dressed and again I was mesmerized how lovely she looked naked and tied. I finally untied her so she could clean up.



“I need to head out of here dear. Hope you don’t mind me fucking and run, but I gotta go,” I said.



She winked and said, “Anytime. I really enjoyed it!”



As I turned away to leave I realized that she had been naked all day and I felt good inside that she spent it with me.

For me, coming to terms with what I am was like being born. It was something that happened when I was naked, wet and crying.



I’m not really sure what it was that got me to realizing it. A long string of dates with ‘the hot guy’ that always left me feeling… well, feeling something. What I’m not sure.



It was in the less than warm afterglow of yet another of those encounters that I was dragged kicking and screaming to the new spa that opened up nearby. My best friend since…hell pigtails, Julie said that my moping was bringing her down and that I was now her prisoner! My shoes leaving skid marks across the parking lot, I was dragged into the place.



Okay I’ll admit before very long I was having kind of a good time. It’s not often I like to feel pampered. Maybe it because they have a diaper named that?



My nails were done better than I can do them and my feet had all kinds of tools applied to every angle of them. My hair was given a conditioning that was so deep my brain got soggy. Then I was driven in a zombie like shuffle into the steam room.



Somewhere through this lengthy process, Julie acquired a temporary friend for herself. The woman’s name was… oh, Sandy something another, it’s unimportant. A more helium-headed person there has never been. But the way she looked!



When she stepped into the steam room and saw it was just us three, she let her robe drop, took off her towel and sat back on the warm cedar seats naked as naked can get.



Julie not wanting to be outdone did the same. I felt very reluctant to copy them. Call it a lack of self-love or the fact that I have a good mirror on my bedroom door but I suddenly felt very aware of how small chested, narrow-hipped, and hell, boney I was compared to those two.



Don’t get me wrong. Julie’s no cover model and Sandy…well, she might be able to get into a men’s magazine if she lost a pound or two, but next to me they looked like goddess one and goddess two. I hovered on the outside of their chatter not wanting to be sucked in and lose brain cells.



After doing it twice I had to resist the urge to dip even more water onto the hot rocks… I was wanted to disappear into the fog.



Or maybe hide the two of them from my eyes.



Maybe it was Sandy with her dishwater blond hair, eyes that looked smoky even without makeup, or maybe just the way she moved, but suddenly I became aware of how beautiful they were. Now Julie could snag most man-toys with a shake of her long black hair and innocent looking face, but it wasn’t really something I normally paid attention to.



My eyes seemed to acquire a mind of their own in that hot room. I would suddenly notice that they had drifted somewhere they shouldn’t be. I found myself paying attention to things I shouldn’t have. Like how firm Julie’s breasts were when compared to the slightly sagging Sandy’s. How small her dark nipples were when placed near the silver dollar-sized pink cones. How narrow-waisted, wide-hipped, smooth-skinned…it was a catalog listing. I could have filed a police report from the description I was taking in. Sexy faces, beautiful smiles.



Shaved, versus unshaved, but so blonde she might as well have been.



I looked up when Sandy’s hand covered herself. My eyes met hers and the look she was giving me wasn’t nice.



“Well, I’ve steamed enough,” said Julie, getting up. She gave me a smile. “You’re looking a lot less mopsey so I hope this did you some good?”



I gave a nod I wasn’t feeling.



“Yeah! Go me, me go. BFF to the rescue once again.” Julie gave her hands the little pompom routine that she had learned as a cheerleader. Without the gold and green uniform that little move did incredible things to her chest. I had to yank my eyes up to her face by sheer will. “Well I’m for a nice shampoo and blow dry from Ramone and a large glass of red wine.”



“Oh that sounds wonderful.” Sandy hopped up and put her robe on as quickly as she could. I looked away from her, my eyes on the hot rocks. “Coming?”



Looking back up and blinking I could see in her eyes she didn’t want me to. Well she was Julie’s new friend not mine. For a second, I wanted nothing more than to make the rest of her day uncomfortable. But then…



“No. I want more steam,” I say. I dipped the ladle and let the water slowly rain down onto the rocks, smoky ribbons of water vapor answer up with a hiss.



“Well, maybe it will straighten out those curls,” Julie said, shrugging herself into her robe. I tried not to watch her breast give a little shake but I couldn’t help it. I felt Sandy’s eyes on me the whole time. I could sense…something from her then. I couldn’t name it but there was a…



Absently I lifted my hand and slicked back my wet hair.



“Maybe.”



As they left I felt the emptiness of the room the second the door closed. Just me and me… and at the moment I didn’t really like me. I dumped huge amounts of water onto the stones and sent up a fog so thick I couldn’t see anything. That’s just what I wanted. Grabbing my robe I curl up onto the wet cedar and cover myself as the tears start to pour.



“What’s wrong with me?” I thought as I shivered and held myself tight enough to bruise. My face came to rest on the wet wood and my tears soon made it even wetter.



Memories came to assault me then, awkward dates with guys that didn’t interest me. Their mindless dialog about this car, that sport. It was a sickening mixture. But at the same time the gossipy hours of chatter from Julie was just as unbearable.



There was a light in the fog then. Quickly I try to compose myself but failed.



“I saw the condensation on the window. I was wondering if my sauna was broken.” The cedar bent as she sat down next to me. “You okay? I’m going to guess no.”



Lifting my head, I looked up at the owner of the salon. Her dark skin was the color of coffee with one cream. Her tight braided hair had quickly gathered a spider’s web of water droplets from the air. She had greeted us at the door when we came in. She got us the long white robes and our first glass of wine.



The wine… maybe that was it. The wine must have been bad. It had got me all… whiny. I shook my head at the ludicrous thought.



She took it to mean no, that I’m not alright.



How I went from lying down to in her arms being hugged I don’t know, but I suddenly found myself on the receiving end.



Maybe it was her arms. Soft and strong, they reminded me of my Mom’s. Maybe it was the sweet jasmine scent that hung around her, reminding me of summer. Hell, it could even have been the little wooden beads in her hair, reminding me of the old rattle curtain at my grandmother’s house. Whatever it is I simply hold onto her and bawled my eyes out.



Even though she didn’t know what I was crying about she understood. Her arms gave comfort, her voice a whisper of not even half-heard words that gave even more. Her hands caressed the back of my head, holding me to her chest. Her chin resting on my head, she gently rocked me as I cried.



How many minutes I just let myself cry I don’t know. It felt like forever but I finally stopped. It was at about the same time that I found myself becoming very aware of just how soft and nice my pillow was.



“Feeling better?” she asked softly.



“I think so,” I said with a sniffle.



As I sat back I saw her give me a smile. Her lips under a covering of rose colored lip gloss looked so very kissable.



What the hell am I thinking!



Her hand appeared in my view when I looked down and she took hold of my chin. I let her lift it till I was looking into her eyes. I think her startlingly blue eyes might have been contacts, but I wasn’t sure. I had never seen blue eyes on a person of her race but she could have been the exception.



“Want to tell me about it?” she asked with a soft tilt of her head. “I’m a stranger. What would telling me hurt? I won’t judge you no matter what.”



I could hear the sincerity. But dare I…?



“I think I might be a lesbian,” I said softly, almost not believing I was saying it.



She slowly smiled.



“Why do you think that?”



“I was checking out the lady that was in here.” I tried to look away from her but she moved her head to the side



“Lots of women do that, hon. It’s kind of a game of ‘I’ve got better than you’ve got.’ ” She smiled. “You don’t just play that with shoes.”



I sat quietly unable to find the words I wanted to say.



She again helped.



“Do you like guys?”



The question should have been a given but it hit me harder than I expected. I thought back through them, face by face, all the way back to Timmy Benson who talked me into do it… just a little. None of them were more than a flash memory of a face and a few dinners out. Then the memories of the sex came through and I felt…used. That was as close to it as I could think.



Slowly my head went from side to side.



She smiled and patted my arm.



“It’s okay. Coming to grips with that is the hardest part. That and the first time you tell someone. Hell,Girl,you’ve already gone over the hump! Now you sit right there and I’ll be back.”



She got up and went out in a hurry and I found my eyes following her curves. She was a stunningly beautiful woman.



She was gone but moments.



The sudden inrush of cooler air and the parting of the fog were my warning that she was back. A metal bucket hit the bench next to me and she sat down on the other side of it.



“Girl, we going to have a party up in here,” she told me with a grin.



I took the tall glass from her with a surreal feeling coming around me. She poured bubbling champagne into my glass, then her own.



“A toast to…what is your name?”



“Lavender Layton. My friends call me Elly… why are you laughing?” I asked a little hurt.



She waved her hand, dismissing my anger. “Your parents and mine must have had the same type of joke book. I’m Jasmine Jones. JJ.”



I chuckled with her.



“Well, I’m not going to call you Elly. It doesn’t make a lot of sense. Did your grandmother call you Flower?”



I looked up startled. How had she known that?



“My Granny did the same, I thought yours might have,” she said with a grin. She leaned in and let her glass touch mine with a light ring. “Know what else we have in common? Well, let’s just say you’re not the only woman who checks out women in the steam room.”



I glanced down suddenly aware that I had my robe more than half off me and a towel sitting in my lap. The embarrassment however passes much quicker than if she had been a ‘He’. I looked up at her and blushing, I slowly chuckled.



“Lavender and Jasmine?” I asked with a smile.



“Hon, I guarantee the two of us would liven up any room.”



Smiling, I sipped the champagne with her, letting my thoughts drift. I felt not quite sure of what I should do next. I decided to ask, after all she had been a help so far.



“So what do I do?”



Jasmine shrugged.



“Well, you have a lot of choices, Flower. You can go clubbing. I know a few around here that you might like. They’re a bit easy on the new and unsure there. You could try the personals. There are hundreds of sites online but a lot of them are crap. You also got a big decision to make. You don’t have to make it now or anytime soon, but you will have to make it. Do you tell everyone? Do you tell a few select people? Do you tell no one… well, other than me?” she said with a flirty grin.



Smiling I nodded then started to think about it. Would I lose friends? How about family? There were a few that would scream ‘unclean’ from the pulpits when they heard. I could already hear their sermons.



I let my eyes drift as I think. I found myself focused on the golden locket around her neck. The fact it was hanging in that dark valley of cleavage might have had something to do with my eyes going there.



“That’s beautiful.”



She looked down and ran a finger across the metal. I saw a half-smile, half-sad look cross her face.



“Yea,” she whispered softly.



“What’s the matter Jazz?” I asked.



She looked up at me and grinned at the nickname.



“Jazz, huh? Okay I’ve gone by that more than once.” She lifted the locket. “This is all that I have left of the first love of my life. Her name was Merisa. It has a small piece of her hair and a pinch of her ashes in it. I glued it shut and she’s always been there for me.”



“What happened to her? Oh, I’m sorry, don’t answer that. I’m being nosy.”



Jazz shook her head, the beads rattling.



“It’s okay. It was awhile back… hell, ten years.” She looked down and took a deep breath. When she looked back up, I could see her eyes were shining. She smiled a bit seeing my concern. “I’m good. No, she was as buck wild a person as I’ve ever met. She loved life with a fiery passion! Everything that she could do to live it to the fullest she did. Fast cars! My god, that woman could drive. She loved anything with a bit of a thrill and some danger. She used to joke that was why she was with me.”



I watched a single tear slip and drift it’s way down her dark skin to vanish off her face and into the blouse.



“She was on her motorcycle….” Jazz swallowed like saying it was a bitter pill. “…and she of course had it going as fast as it could go. She hit a scrap piece of truck tire and left the road at well over a hundred and twenty. She struck a tree. The doctors said they doubt she even felt it.”



She absently reached up to wipe away a tear.



“I’m sorry, Jazz,” I said reaching over and taking that hand. The sharp contrast in her skin tone and mine made our hands look like a yin yang. I could feel the damp side of her finger against my skin.



She gave my hand a gentle squeeze but didn’t turn me loose.



“Thank you, Flower. They say that time heals but it still feels like yesterday to me. I loved her so much. I miss her every day. I wonder what she would say if she saw me now running this place. She would have loved to come here for maybe a few hours but she would have quickly been bored to tears I think.” She chuckled and filled my flute again. “To Merisa?”



“Merisa.” I said softly and then as our glasses touched, I offer her hand a bit more pressure.



The bubbly wine was more like breathing bubbles than drinking but its sweet flavor was not lost at all.



Jazz drained her’s and sat spinning the flute in between her fingers for a second then looked up at me. Her smiles reappeared.



“So! What are you going to do now?” she asked me then. “Are you coming out tits blazing? Going to scream from the rooftop I want to kiss girls and fuck you if you don’t like it?”



Laughing, I shook my head. “I don’t think I’m ready to do that yet.”



She nodded.”Okay. Well, I can get you in touch with some of the local ladies that are like us. We’re kind of a lesbian support group. I keep telling them we need to call ourselves B.R.A. Bush Rakers Anonymous. They keep shooting the idea down though.”



Chuckling, I nodded. “I can’t see why, it sounds perfect to me.”



She nodded and lifted the bottle. I watched her pour the last drop out the bottle into my glass.



“All gone,” she said sadly. “If I didn’t have a business to run I would say to hell with it and open up another. Sitting here getting steam-soaked and plastered with you till we pass out. But alas all parties have to finally turn off the music and close the door. I’ve got to go back to minding my store…before Ramone sets some poor lady’s hair on fire.”



She got up and pulled me to my feet in front of her with a tug. The strength of her grip was surprising.



“You never answered my question by the way. What are you going to do now?”



I stood there for a half second then shrugged with a sigh. “Damned if I know. Go find a girl to try kissing…”



Her mouth was on mine in less than a heart-beat. Those lips that were so plump and luscious were also demanding. I very quickly found that all the so-called experience I’d had wasn’t worth a flip. Her mouth and then ever so slowly her tongue start me back at Kissing 101.



As the seconds passed and her hands drifted to my shoulders, her fingers caressed the skin down my bare arms, across my bare back. Her hands finally came to rest in the small of my back and in the short hairs at the back of my neck.



Kissing 101 and I wanted to be the teachers pet after the first moment.



“Elly did you fall asleep in here?”



My eyes went to the open doorway to Julie standing there with her wine glass slowly slipping from her fingers.



It hit the floor to shatter, the drops of sanguine heaven splattering outward. Some of them landed on the white robe that lay by my feet next to my towel.



** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **



I sprinted across the living room but got the phone just as it stopped ringing.



“Damn.”



Setting it back on it’s base, I saw the red light come on after a second. Picking it back up, I hit the message button.



“You have one new message, recorded today at 6:25…. ‘Hey Flower, this is Jazz. Look I know that our… last encounter was a bit of a shock to your system but if you would I would love to hear from you. I have an idea you might like. Kind of my surprise and a bit of an apology for what happened with your friend. Well, call me if you will.”



I listened to the number, my mind filing it away.



Do I call or not? Setting my purse down I sunk into my favorite end of the couch and pondered that question.



I wanted to. I wanted to so badly but things were only now starting to get back to normal for me with Julie. She was surprisingly not at all understanding about what happened. She said it was everything from depression to break up blues to too much steam. The absolute denial that she went into when I told her that I was a lesbian was still even more shocking.



We hadn’t talked for a week. Then she gave me a call with the name of a guy that she had already promised a date with me. She said he was so nice that one date with him and such silly thoughts would vanish.



I told her I would.



I grabbed up the phone and hit the call back button. I listened to the tones as they played her number for me. I tried to make my breathing quieter. I might make her think I was a phone sex perv



“JJ”s Salon.”



“Hey Jazz.”



“Hey there Flower.” I could hear the smile through the phone. “I had hoped you would call me back. Um look, I have something I promised I would do this weekend. It’s a B.R.A. thing. I was wondering if you would like to come and join us. There will be a lot of us getting together Saturday for the Holiday.”



Looking over at my cute puppies’ calendar, I didn’t see any holiday mentioned.



“What holiday is this Saturday? My calendar doesn’t show it.” I got up and went to it. I glanced at the ridiculous Shar-Pei puppy with his thousand wrinkles. “I’ve double checked and still don’t see one.”



“It’s National Nude Day.”



I just held the phone as what she said bounced around in my head for several seconds.



“I’m not sure I heard you right?” I finally had to ask.



She chuckled. “Yes you did. I said National Nude Day.”



“There’s a holiday to get naked on?”



“Nude,” she said quickly.



“What’s the difference?” I asked, confused.



“Nude is what you can be in front of strangers, naked is what you are with your lover.”



I thought about that for a second and both still seemed embarrassing to me.



“Okay, so what are you going to do Saturday?” I asked not sure I want the answer. “Are you going to a nudist colony or something?”



I heard the deep throaty chuckle.



“No, my dear Flower. We are going to march in a parade.”



The image of dozens of naked… sorry, nude people walking down the street in a parade came to mind then. I was also suddenly hit with the idea of a giant Macy day style float of a… never mind.



“I don’t know, Jazz. That sounds like a bit too…”



“You don’t have to get nude. Just come down. Meet a few of the other ladies. Talk with them for a bit. I think you’ll have fun. I would advise maybe not standing to close to us once we start the parade though.”

“Why?” I asked after a second.



“Well, we may all end up getting arrested.” I heard a light playfulness to her answer that at the same time let me know she was serious.



“So you’re going to go do this knowing you may be arrested?” I made myself not add ‘are you crazy?’



“If you don’t have clothes on and there’s not some chance of going to jail, where would the fun be?”



I chuckled hearing her say it like she got nothing between her ears.



Then she got serous. “Yea, we just might. There is something very wrong with this country when a person without clothes on is arrested. Things need to be changed. You can see someone killed on TV every night but you have to go to a late night cable channel just to see someone without clothes. You can watch a cop show where they tell you about someone being raped nine ways to Sunday but you can’t see someone having consensual sex? If I have to go to jail for a bit, maybe pay a fine to help try and change that… well, so be it.”



I paused. I felt an urge to go and be a part of something then. I didn’t like the idea of jail… I mean, I’ve never even had a speeding ticket.



“Jazz, I’ll…”



“Come on, Flower, what are you worried about? That they might arrest you and put you in jail where there are a bunch of dykes?”



I had to laugh at her tone.



“Just come down. If nothing else you might like the paint jobs.”



“What?” I asked, even more confused.



“Oh hell, I forgot to tell you. We will be wearing body paint. We have this guy who does airbrush. He can do all kind of things that are cool as hell. I’m thinking about having him do me in blue, red and green… maybe getting some peacock feathers and gluing them between my butt cheeks.”



I had to move the phone away from my ear at that. The image of that sexy lady her hair rattling with every step, strutting feathers down the street…



“Jazz, I’ll be there, if only to see that.”



“I said I was thinking. He has so much talent I might just let him have his way with me. Be about the only time I would ever tell a guy that,” she said with a chuckle. “So you’ll be there?”



“Yea. I’ll be there.”



“Oh I love you, my little Flower. I’ll see you Saturday. Come to the shop.” I heard her smack a kiss through the phone.



I suddenly wished I could feel it.



“I’ll be there.”



“Bye,bye.”



I held the phone till the tones started to beep. Setting it down I started to get up and go to maybe fix me a damn strong drink when the phone started to ring again. Smiling I grabbed it up.



“What did you forget?” I asked chuckling.



“I forgot to tell you what restaurant,Craig,will be taking you to Saturday,” said Julie, laughing.



Hearing the joy in her voice I felt what I did settle around me. I swallowed against the taste of it. It was bitter as bile.



But the idea of another worthless night out with a man I had no interest in was a far bitterer pill. “Julie, I don’t think…”



** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **



The next two days were a blur of my life falling to pieces.



Julie called my mom and then all hell hit the fan! I’ve was told I was going to be sent to a shrink, that I need to see a doctor, that clearly my hormones were out of balance. If was asked once whether it was my time of the month I was asked a dozen times. I finally told my mother that I would talk to her later.



Then about twenty minute later, my sisters began to ring the phone off the hook.



When my brother Travis was on the other side of my door I exploded!



Yanking open the apartment door, I looked him in the eye and with the full force of my now far out of control rage let him have it.



“I’m a lesbian! Do you hear me? I’ve talked to you all till I’m sick! It’s not a single one of yours’ business who, what, where, or how many times and with what fucking gender I have sex!”



Travis looked at me for a half a second, and then with a smile trying to peek past his mustache, he slowly let his head tilt.



“What?” I demanded.



“When I hear from Mom, Julie, Michele, and Wendy all in the same day all about the same thing… I just thought I would drop by and offer you some advice on eating pussy. I have to say my technique has gotten me more than a few compliments.”



I looked at my brother and a slow blush lit up my face.



“Can I come in? Or do you want to scream something else at me?”



I finally felt a smile tugging at my lips.”I’m thinking about it.”



“Well, think inside damn it! It’s hot as hell out here.”



Moving out the way, I let my bother come inside and I stopped trying to air-condition the neighborhood.



He went into the kitchen and opened my refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of water. When I looked at him he held it up.



“I’m stealing a bottle of water from you. Thought I would let you know.” He grabbed a chair and slid it under him. “So want to discuss your earth shattering news or shall I go into details about what a woman enjoys when I go down on her? Seriously, I’ve been told I’m damn good at it, I can give you some pointers.”



Shaking my head. I walked over to the fridge and looking inside, realized he got the last bottle of water. I grabbed a soda and with a shake of my head, grabbed the other chair.



“I’m not sure I want to discuss either topic.”



He shrugged. “Well, I have to say that whether you want to talk about it or not… it is the talk of the family at the moment. I wouldn’t be surprised if our aunties don’t start calling soon.”



I sighed and nodded at the truth of that. The character of the Church Lady from Saturday Night Live was modeled after those two. I swear it was.



“So what should I do?” I asked him. Younger than me by two years, I often found myself non-the-less going to him for advice.



Swishing a sip of water around, he took a slow deep breath.



“Well, what you do is when they call… or Mom or our sisters for that matter, you just tell them… in a slightly calmer tone… what you told me at the door. It’s not their business. If they don’t like it, that’s fine, but they can either keep their teeth together about it or… hell if you like shock the crap out of them and start to ask them questions about picking up women.”



I chuckled and then full out laughed as I pictured my aunties’ faces if I did that. I would have them splashing me with holy water going “the power of Christ compels you!”



“Sis, I just want you to know… I’m here for you. No matter what. I could care the hell less who you want to sleep with. My only problem with your wanting to date women is that you might just get one I would have liked a shot at.”



I smiled. “I don’t think that the types I’m going to be going after would like you.” I said chuckling softly.



“Hey, you never know. I have a good job, a nice car and a…silver tongue.” He stuck the tip of his tongue between his teeth and grinned.



I just shook my head. “You ain’t right.” I said softly.



“Well I ain’t left either.” He sipped the last of the water, and in a show of pure machismo crushed the super-thin plastic bottle. “Elly…”



“Call me Flower.”



Why I said that I don’t know. He looked at me and slowly nodded.



“Flower? I remember Grana calling you that. Okay, Flower, I’ve got to go. I’m supposed to be throwing a big cookout down at the lake and haven’t got the meat bought yet. If I don’t hurry there might be nothing but Spam.”



Chuckling, I stood up. I was suddenly in my brother’s arms. He gave me a tight hug.



“There for you… no matter what. You got it?” he said softly by my ear.



Nodding, I pulled him tight. I found that his support when all others are turning away was worth more than I could ever repay. I walked him to the door.



He snaps his finger as he opened it and spun around. “Oh yea the secret to eating pussy well…”



“Travis!”



His eyes went to mine and held like a snake’s gaze. “You just do everything in your power to make her make different sounds. See how many places you can find that will make her change tone. It’s kind of like learning how to play a musical instrument. Just keep practicing till the odd noises become a symphony. A woman brought to orgasm with your mouth is the most beautiful music in the world.”



I just stood there looking at him. Then gave a slow nod.



Smiling, he tipped a hat he was not wearing and walked down the stairs out to his car. I swear the thing oozes sexy when he cranks it. I watched him drive away and for a moment wished…



“Oh, hell no! I’m getting enough phone calls already!”



Shaking my head, I went back inside to go make that strong drink.



The phone was ringing before I was half way through it.



** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **



The spa had a ‘Closed for four hours…unless I’m arrested’ sign on the door when I pulled up outside.



I saw Jasmine sitting in her car. She opened the door, when I pull in, smiling. I saw her long dark legs disappear as she stood up and the robe dropped back into place.



Getting out I found myself being hugged to my surprise. There must have been a sale on me that week.



“I’m so glad you came,” she said then with a grin, winking at me. “Want to see the pre-game warm up?”



I didn’t know what she meant till her hands went to her robe and she opened it.



Oh… my… lord… the… body… on… this… woman!



Skin like a mixture of chocolate and silk. I let my eyes go from her feet with the toenails delicately painted to match her eye-shadow, up past her calves, to those super-smooth thighs, to what had to be a barely legal bikini bottom that I knew was a bit of floss thong in the back. Her belly had a slight pouch around her navel, then there was the curve of her waist up to her breasts that were barely hidden behind the top that was little more than postage stamps and floss. By the time my eyes reached hers I’m more turned on than any guy had ever made me.



She gave me a slow sexy smile, and looking down, let her lashes flutter at me. “You’ve got me blushing. Can’t you tell?”



Laughing, I looked at her and grinned.



“You look beautiful, Jazz.” I told her after I took a deep breath to settle the pounding I felt in my chest. Suddenly I felt a deep concern for her. I didn’t at all like the idea of her being arrested. Detained. Jailed. “You sure you want to do this?”



She looked at me for a second then down at the bikini top and lifted a finger to one of the strings.



“I want you to tell me if this makes any sense to you. Right now I’m legally allowed to walk the beach, maybe even go into any store I like…at least around this time of the year. I might get asked to put my wrap around my hips but maybe not.” She moves the white fabric just a bit and part of her dark as night nipple came into view. “Now I’m being arrested and considered a lewd person. If I was to do this within a hundred feet of a school I’m probably going to be put on the child sex registry. Does that make any sense to you, Flower?”



My eyes seemed to be glued to that bit of dark skin. I never for some reason thought about the fact that a black woman’s nipple would be that dark. Distracted for a second, I looked up and saw her face was so very serious.



What she asked me suddenly made no sense at all.



“No, Jazz. It seems kind of silly when you put it that way.”



She nodded. “How about the fact that if I was a guy I could walk around in just this?”



Her finger ran along the waistband of her bottoms. When she lifted the edge by the knot, my breath ran away from me.



“Why should gender make a difference about what can be worn? If it was anything else there would be an outcry that would startle pigeons in Washington but because this nation is ashamed of their own skin you won’t hear a word.”



I listened and nodded understanding. Part of me wished that she wouldn’t go through with it none-the-less. Part of me wished I had her courage.



“Want to take my car?” She asked grinning. “That way if I get arrested you can drive it back here.”



** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **



As we pulled into the parking lot of the little warehouse, a converted art studio, I felt my nerves start to give me fits. For some reason I was almost afraid to see this many people without their clothes on.



As we walked in, that fear was… not confirmed. Jasmine’s bikini was not the most clothing in the room. Well, except for a few people, they mostly were dressed… although in a strange collection of clothes.



I watched a bare-chested guy with an airbrush working furiously on a tall lady with waist length black hair. She must have been at least 6’1″ and he was painting her into a Zena costume! Looking around I felt my jaw drop as I realized that most of the clothes I was seeing weren’t cloth.



Jasmine dropped her robe by the door and walked over to where several ladies in various stages of paint-dress or undress were standing talking. She looked back and seeing me standing by the door, gestured for me to come join her.



“Flower, let me introduce you to the Village People.”



The ladies laughed but when I saw the various hats they had and some of what their ‘clothes’ looked like I realized that’s what they were going to be when finished.



“This is Tonya, Samantha, Jennifer, and our little Indian princess is Rosette. Ladies, this is Lavender, but just call her Flower.”



There seriously must have been a two-for-one blue light special on hugging me going this week. That several of the women were bare breasted come to me in the seconds after they turned me loose. Blinking I looked at Jazz’s face and saw her smiling.



“Flower here has just come out. In fact she’s never done more than kiss a girl.”



Suddenly I was being applauded. After the reaction of my family it was almost too much.



Jazz saw this and reached back to take my hand. “Come on, nude people! Lets get this show on the road!” she called out to the others in the warehouse.



One of the artists came over to her and I just caught part of what Jazz told him. I took a seat and watched him begin to turn her into the sexiest black swan I had ever seen. He had done feathers with paint that I could have sworn would have let her fly. Then her top’s strings were undone, and I saw both of those silky black nipples; my breath started to quicken.



“So what do you want to be?” asked a voice to my side.



Turning, I saw one of the artist had his cart next to me.



“I could make you a white swan.” He looked over at Jasmine. “That way you two would match.”



My pulse raced. Looking over at Jazz, I saw her eyes on me. Her fingers went to her hips and with slow deliberation she slipped the two knots. I saw her standing not nude but… naked in front of me. My lips parted and I licked my lips when my eyes saw a perfectly trimmed triangle of wiry curls.



“Well?”



Looking back at the artist, I found myself nodding. My hands went to the bottom of my T-shirt without thought.



As he went to work on my skin, the cool feeling of the paint like powder hitting me I found myself watching the lovely black swan that was taking shape in front of me. Our eyes met and I saw her give me a long slow look up and down.



I blushed. The artist liked it and painted the pink in. I could have told him it was a waste of time. I didn’t think that blush was going to leave my face for years.



** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** *



The leather seats of her car were a slight irritation to my lower lips when I moved. I was dreadfully uncomfortable in just my shirt.



I looked around at the cars surrounding us in the large parking lot by the park. There had never been a stranger ‘dressed’ collection of naked people.



NUDE!



I tried to drive the thought into my head. We were nude… not naked. Naked was what you were in the presence of your lover.



I glanced over at Jazz. My eyes went down the feathery arms to the dark skin of her thighs. I could only just make out the curls under the artwork.



“They’re peanut butter,” she said to me then.



Blinking, I looked up at her to find her smiling at me.



“Wha…what?” I stumbled over my words.



“My thighs. They’re peanut butter.”



I sat for a half-second and let that sink in but, it still made no sense. When I looked up, she grinned and leaned in till she was right by the side of my face.



“Smooth, brown, easy to spread,” she whispered. When I laughed, she smiled and winked at me. “Relax, my beautiful swan. We will be fine. I talked to one of the organizers earlier. There are a lot more of us showing up than I first heard.”



“Okay, and that’s a good thing how?” I asked after a second or so.



Jazz tilted her head. “The more of us there are the harder they will find it to arrest us. I mean, can you imagine the chaos of trying to arrest several hundred nude people?’



Images came to me then of me being booked down-town without a stitch to my name.



Oh lord, what was I doing?



Then her hand was in mine.



“It will be okay, Flower. I’ll be here for you no matter what.”



Hearing her echo my bother I found myself caressing her fingers more than holding them. Taking a deep breath, I nodded and accepted that come what may, I was at least…



“There they are.”



Looking up from our joined hands I felt my jaw drop. There were a swarm of car door opening all around us.



“Oh my god.” I exclaimed in a whisper as I got out of the car.



Walking down the street with signs and banner held high and proud, they must numbered in the hundreds. No, maybe in the thousands I guessed as I saw the lines swelling as more groups like our own came swarming in at the designated time.



Now, some of them were like us and wearing body paint. But others? Well they had left nothing to the imagination. Truly nudes on parade.



Part of me wished I had stayed home. But it was a so very small part of me that all the rest chased it away, hopefully never to return.



I tossed my shirt into the car and followed Jazz into the marching croud.



Walking next to my black swan, I looked behind us to find the rock band Kiss following us. My eyes went down out of pure curiosity. The black, silver and white mixture of paint hid a lot less on a guy than it did on us. Gene gave me a wink when I look back up.



Turning around, I suddenly found myself in possession of a sign that said ‘Nude, Not Naked.’



I felt a bit wrong of me to be carrying it.



By the time we crossed out into the wider street, people in vans suddenly appeared and hopped out with traffic cones, blocking roads. I laughed when I noticed that their orange vests and blue jeans weren’t real.



“How far are we marching too?” I asked nervously when I saw the first patrol car pull up to the side of the road.



“Fountain Park,” she said. Her hand found mine and I felt it tremble. That she was maybe not as sure of herself as she came across hit me then.



All of a sudden my tower of confidence and strength displayed a shaky foundation. I felt an upwelling of fear threaten to take me.



Then it faded. I tightened my fingers in her’s and lifted my sign a little higher.



She looked over at me. I saw a twinkle come to her eyes and when she turned back forward there was a bit more strut to her walk, The swing of her hips must have been giving the guys behind us one hell of a show.



Up ahead I saw the tall spire topped with the golden statue of a naked woman. Next to the large bronze woman were naked cherubic imps. I remembered my only trip here and the way my brother, sisters and I had splashed in the cool water of the fountains.



“Good choice.” I said, looking up at the gleaming lady, her breasts large and well displayed, bare to the world and every eye.



Jazz nodded.



As we passed the big gate with the arched sign overhead I looked behind me and saw that our line had grown more and more with every step. I saw TV news crews pulling up and getting their cameras out. I watched the growing number of policemen that were converging on the park almost as fast as we were.

The waters around the small tree-covered island, jutting proudly from the calm sea, were dangerous. I knew this; I had been told. The coy young lady, whom I had spent half the previous evening with at The Red Lion warned me as her eyes twinkled and my hands massaged her thigh. I got nowhere with her, despite me drunkenly boasting I could bring any girl to a powerful orgasm with my tongue, but we discussed a few fantasies and I got a kiss on the cheek. She smiled sweetly and welcomed me to the village, before warning me again not to venture towards the island – about three miles from the coast – unless I wanted to get into trouble. They were pirates’ waters.



Any advice to avoid the good fishing grounds was always going to be ignored, and the following morning I loaded a small yacht with my fishing gear and a Thermos flask of hot tea. The sea was calm and land was just a minor footnote on the horizon. I could see the “Pirate Island” a couple of hundred feet away but it was silent and still, save for a few birds nestling in the plethora of trees that had taken root on the lonely outcrop.



It was peaceful and serene and I opened my flask to take my first drink. It was a great spot for fishing as within an hour I had six fish in my bucket that would make a wonderful lunch on the fine Summer’s day. The soft lapping of the water against the side of the boat was relaxing and enjoyable, and I leant back in the vessel. It was too nice, and I pushed my boots off with my feet.



My trousers and top soon joined my boots and I looked around the sea before continuing. I knew I was alone, but I just wanted to check. The rough wooden bottom of the boat irritated my exposed back as I lay down and I gave a satisfying sigh as my underwear was abandoned onto the rest of my clothes; being naked and at sea was wonderfully relaxing and so enjoyable.



I savoured the Sun’s rays, closed my eyes and daydreamt. I could see my ex-girlfriends dressed in latex bustiers and corsets walking around me and blowing kisses towards my naked body, offering promises they would have to keep. I could see the girl from the coffee shop sliding a chocolate flake between her bossom and “forcing” me to retrieve it. I could see the girl from the pub naked and “making” me eat her pussy as if my life depended on it. I licked my lips and panted, my hands gravitating towards my erect cock.



The first stroke was heavenly; the cool air of the sea wind breathed gently over my glistening tip and made me feel alive. Shivers of pleasure and contentment swept through me and I groaned, savouring the moment; the subtle lapping of the water and the sea birds squawking overhead played a calming soundtrack to my self-pleasure. It was gorgeous.



My other hand squeezed my nipples and glided over my body to touch my balls; I spread my legs further to allow my fingers to touch and to probe my perineum; a sizzling warmth spread instantly through my loins and my cock glowed and radiated with lust. The naughtiness of masturbating on the open seas tickled my arousal, it felt so dirty and so dangerous.



My hand circled my glans, swirling the first drops of pre-cum around my engorged head; I groaned: it had been a few days since I had had sex or played with myself and my deep-seated desperation washed over me. My balls tingled and my cock throbbed: climaxing on the open seas as the swell of the water rocked my boat would be so satisfying. I made long deep strokes with my hands, sliding my palm over my glans with squeals and groans.



My mind danced with erotic imagery: the slut on the corner of my road, begging me to pound my cock into her stretched pussy, the masseuse in the big town squealing as my fingers pressed on her sex, my landlady caning me for late payment: I fantasised with wild abandon as my fingers pressed on my perineum, rubbing it in circles as my body begged for a release.



“Huhhh-nnnn,” a voice called and my boat rocked violently.



“What the …?” My eyes blinked as I struggled to adjust to the bright light of the Sun streaming through my now-opened eyeballs. “Hey!” I yelled as I struggled to focus on the movement. I felt the boat tip downwards as someone stepped onto the boat in front of me; they were wearing black but I couldn’t focus.



“Some sea dog,” a female voice called in a dismissive tone. “Thinking it’s OK to wank himself off in our waters.” I coughed, and scrambled to the end of the vessel, my heart beating furiously in my chest: who was this woman?



My eyes blinked and I put a hand up to shield my eyes as my other hand belatedly protected my modesty. She was in her late twenties, with dark hair that cascaded down her scowling face to her bosom. She wore a black hat with the Jolly Rodger motif printed upon it, a white top, tied with a knot so that her midrift was exhibited, and a red jacket open at the front. My mind salivated at the prospect, still in excessive horny mode as her outfit was completed by a black skirt and sexy boots. I wanted to fuck her, and ignored the danger the sabre she was clutching, presented.



“These are our waters,” a second voice told me, and I looked over to a larger boat alongside mine flying the Jolly Rodger flag proudly. The second girl, dressed in a crimson pirate’s outfit banged her sword on the side of my boat and snorted as looked at me. “Just another twisted mainlander, take him ashore.”



I objected, claiming to be in safe waters, but they ignored me. I pleaded with them, begging them for mercy but the first pirate threw my clothes onto her boat and she sat down, nodding towards the oars and tapped her sword. I tried my best to cover my nudity but it was too late: she had seen everything and she taunted me as she navigated us towards the island.



I protested vainly but she had a sword in her hand and a mischievous glint in her eye. My questions about what they were going to do went unanswered and my eyes slipped upon the small island, encased in thick trees.



My clammy hands slipped on the oars as I kept glancing towards her: she was sexy and I chastised myself for fantasising about the woman kidnapping me. Her skirt rode up slightly as she leant back and my cock twitched: I was so close to climaxing when I was interrupted and my testosterone levels were still too high.



My boat reached a narrow inlet and the bottom of the boat crunched as it hit the soft, sandy carpet of the small beach. My kidnapper’s accomplice was already waiting for us; her much larger vessel was already tied up and she dragged my small boat further in land. “Get out,” she barked as I stumbled in the boat.



“Can I have my clothes?” I stammered. They laughed and the long-haired pirate who had boarded my boat, pushed me by the neck as I disembarked. I fell onto the sand with a yelp, spluttering as I inhaled dry sand.



My captor pushed the point of her sword against my exposed thigh, digging it in painfully. “Move,” she barked. I scrambled away from her and her weapon, but she followed me, directing me up the beach and into the small woodland.



It was not a big island and it took just a minute of painful barefoot walking between the trees to reach the centre of the isle. Occasional squelches of mud oozed between my toes where the tree cover was broken and twigs dug into my skin, causing me to yip in discomfort.



I got no respite or sympathy; the sexy pirate followed me with her sword outstretched, directing me to the clearing in the very centre of the island. I could hear the rustling of the wind through the trees and the breaking of the sea against the island, but she lowered her sword and stood a few metres from me, leaning against a tree.



A tent was erected on the edge of the clearing and there was burnt ground a few feet away; she saw my eyes linger on them for a moment and I looked away. “So what happens now?” I asked a little aggressively. “You’re …”



“What happens now,” a voice behind me barked. “Is that we show young men that our waters are not for filth.” I spun to face the other woman walking into the clearing carrying my clothes, my bucket of fish and a sword. “Tie him up.”



I coughed and protested, backing away and desperate to get away from them. “No. Look, I’m sorry, I’ll go away and won’t say anything to anyone. Promise.” The two women advanced on me, and I scurried away from them, jumping into the forest and sprinting away from them.



I got a dozen metres from the clearing, my feet treading painfully on nature’s carpet of hurt, when I was bundled to the ground by one of the girls. I cried in shock and in discomfort as I landed on a small bush, that only yielded so far before scratching and tearing my exposed skin.



I was smacked viciously across the rump and a sword jabbed my thigh. “Do that again,” I was warned. “And you’ll be pissing blood for a week.” I gulped; I didn’t doubt they were serious, and was hauled back to the clearing by my kidnapper.



The two women didn’t waste any time in binding my hands to two trees a couple of metres apart. It stretched my arms painfully and my shoulder ached after just a couple of minutes while they whispered conspiratorially but I struggled against my rope restraints and they did not yield; I was stuck.



“Who are you?” I asked, my eyes watching the two controlling women as they stood looking at me; they oozed control, the sultry look in the eyes, the firm grips on the swords and the malevolent smirks as they slowly inched further apart.



“Sandy, the Pirate Wench,” my kidnapper called from my left, stopping and leaning against a tree outside their tent. I giggled and bit my lip; it was too silly a name to be taken seriously. Her frown intensified.



“Captain Ramona Bluebeard,” the other lady called to my right. For the first time I got to focus on her: she was slightly older than Sandy, and more my age, but had the same evil look in her eyes as well as an incredibly toned body. “And these are our waters.”



“We don’t like filth …” Sandy started but stopped as I burst out laughing.



“A pair of pirates with morals, now I’ve seen everything!” I struggled against the binds as I yelled. “Now let me go!”



“Little brat needs teaching a lesson,” the Captain cried and nodded towards her friend. “Perhaps the rat won’t be quite so cocky after a hundred.”



“Untie me,” I demanded as Sandy knelt into the tent and picked up a rucksack. “This has gone far enough,” I said. “I promise I won’t come back here again; let me go and give me my clothes back.” I tried to look over my shoulder as Sandy walked around me, but my arms being pinned above my head restricted my vision.



“I shouldn’t have done what I did, and I’ll go, never breathe a word of this to anyone.” I heard the zip of the bag slide open as Ramona’s mouth erupted into a wide grin. She walked in front of me and stood a couple of feet away, pushing a finger underneath my chin to lift it up to her eye-line.



“Smile for me,” she patronised. “Big broad smile.” I forced a grin with a snort. “Keep smiling and we might just think about.” She raised her eyebrows and stared into my gaze; what was her game? I hesitated, not sure what to do: those split seconds were torture. Something was about to happen but I didn’t know what.



I sensed movement behind me and my upper back erupted into agony with a crack as dozens of fires stung my skin. I fell forward, straining against my bindings and yelled as my flesh burnt with pain. “What are … help! HELP!”



“We’re three miles from land,” Ramona cackled. “Yell, scream for help. I’ll even join you!” She teased. “Won’t do any good.”



“Leave me alone,” I begged but the Captain nodded towards her accomplice and my a split-second later pure pain ripped through my back as Sandy brought the weapon firmly on my exposed flesh. “Help me! Help me!”



Ramona giggled. “Help!” She screamed. “Some wild pirates are teaching this rat a lesson.” She pulled a face and listened to the sound of the wind in the trees and shrugged. “No-one’s coming,” she added. “We better get back to your punishment.”



I protested and begged for forgiveness but Sandy was relentless and flogged me a further six times. Each time, I screamed in pain: it was torturous and inhumane but the sexy pirate in front of me nodded appreciatively as my back exploded into a mass of stinging welts.



Tears formed and I held them back, closing my eyes and struggling against my ropes tying me to the trees. I felt Ramona trace a finger along my body, pressing against my erect cock and teasing: I must be depraved if I still had an erection.



Sandy gently rubbed her flogger over my back and tickled my skin with it’s leather straps dancing lightly on my flesh. I wriggled and squirmed, much to my tormentors’ amusement, and Sandy moved the flogger to my buttocks, my thighs, legs, testicles and nipples, lightly wiggling it over my skin. I recoiled when it gently flowed over my cock: they were just toying with me but it I would prefer the teasing over angry punishment with the weaponry at their disposal.



I think Sandy sensed my body entering a relaxed state; the birds tweeting and squawking combined with the gentle breeze and soothing touch of the leather tails were sending me into a dreamy haze. I had forgotten my predicament!



Sandy reminded me of my precarious position with a sharp whip across the buttocks, followed by two further high-intensity hits. I yelled in agony, but she returned to light flogging across my thighs and upper back where I barely felt the weapon in her hand.



I groaned and writhed as the flogger swept over my skin: I knew my ordeal was far from over. Sandy took pleasure in reminding me with a further two ferocious whips of the flogger, causing the tails to sting my punished bottom and the tips curl around my thigh and land painfully on the thin skin.



I screamed; hopping on one leg as a volley of profanity left my mouth. Ramona laughed loudly; her face had exploded into sadistic glee as the flogger struck me and I had barely been able to deal with the intense pain.



I was confused by Sandy constantly altering the strength of her strokes; it didn’t make any sense except to befuddle me. Ramona was watching intently as her friend softly dragged and lightly struck my bare bottom. My body sizzled from the smacks I’d received earlier but the softness of the flogger was tranquil and soothing.



I was brought out of any mellowness I was in when Sandy brought the flogger across my backside with incredible intensity. I screeched in shock and pain, begging for them both to stop with the sustained mistreatment.



“You,” Ramona shouted as Sandy flayed my rump with unbelievable pain. Sandy struck my exposed arse with every word her colleague uttered as I begged for mercy. “Are. A. Disgusting. Creature.”



“Please. No more,” I cried, tears streaming down my face. My legs were almost touching Ramona as I desperately tried to put my body out of reach of the sadistic Sandy. “I can’t take any more. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”



“You will be,” Ramona promised and nodded towards her accomplice. I felt her move and closed my eyes, clenching my buttocks in anticipation for what I was about to receive from her.



Sandy grunted as she swung the flogger onto my body, hitting me with the dozens of tails on my abused buttocks, stinging and blisteringly hot from her earlier activities. My flesh combusted into a vicious collection of white-hot slashes as the sound of my torment filled the small island.



I screamed and pulled fiercely on my bindings, causing the rope to dig into my wrist painfully, but I barely felt it. My rear was deluged with a torrent of agony: a final present from Sandy’s flogger, as she passed the weapon to Ramona.



“Did that ‘urt?” Sandy taunted and smacked my thighs with her hands as she came up behind me. I felt her warm breath on my neck as she rubbed the angry flesh with her soft palms. “It should do!”



“And he’s still got a stiffy!” Ramona cried, causing my cheeks to burn with embarrassment. “He’s a tough one!”



Sandy whispered in my ear. “You really are some perv, aren’t you?” I nodded and swallowed: my body was betraying me! “If you enjoyed the flogger, we’ll knock that out of you!”



Ramona nodded towards Sandy who walked towards the centre of the clearing and looked into my bucket of fish, while Ramona selected a long cane from bag, chortling mischievously.



“That’s mine,” I called out as Sandy pulled out a knife and sat down on the wooden log next to the tent. I watched her as she started gutting the fish I had caught and tossing them into a big pan.



“Ours now,” Sandy replied, ogling my stricken body with a malevolent smile; I felt violated by their abundant torture: I was not their plaything! “We may share it.”



“That’s theft!”



“We’re pirates,” Sandy reminded me and as I went to protest Ramona introduced the wooden cane to my backside with such force it caused me to scream in agony.



“Please,” I begged. “I won’t do it again.”



Ramona said nothing and another white-hot streak of pain was added to my butt. She laughed at my incoherent blubbering, begging to be shown mercy and savagely continued to strike my rear, causing me to writhe and wriggle in a wall of pain.



She laughed at my erection; my cock was betraying me again and as my body was brutally beaten, it got harder and harder. I cursed it; Ramona told me she would continue to strike me until I showed contrition, but Sandy was sat in front of me, and lifted her skirt to flash glimpses of bare pussy.



I closed my eyes, but the knowledge that Sandy’s delightful haven was on display was too powerful and I opened them to watch Sandy ignite the kindling with a lighter.



“Please,” I begged as the cane struck me for the umpteenth time and I desperately tried to think of unsexy images. It was no use: being immobile and naked in front of two sadistic young ladies was always going to win any battle in my mind.



Sandy’s soft hand wiped a tear away from my cheek and she looked into my desperate gaze with a smile. “Perhaps he needs someone to encourage it,” she teased and ran a finger along the top of my errant cock. “Perhaps,” she started and gripped the base of my manhood as she ran it along my shaft to the tip. “Perhaps, he’s insatiable.”



I relaxed my shoulders and groaned, savouring the electricifying sensations of her gentle touch, as her fingers soothingly ran up and down my cock. She was gentle and elegant, watching every move my body made in response to her sensual touching.



She smiled knowingly as my body began to surrender to her charms; my loins fizzed and itched with a burning lust, so nearly satisfied on the boat and then beaten between the trees: my morning had been complete sexual torment, but now it was being satisfied. Sandy massaged my cock, spreading the pool of wetness over my glans and down my desperate member.



There was nothing I wanted more at this point than for Sandy to continue what she started: to bring me to the climax I so desperately needed. I was restrained and could not offer any resistance to her actions, I was at her mercy and my cock stiffened as a result of this thought. Sandy licked her lips seductively at me as her fingers caressed my balls and slid underneath my exposed body. I shuddered as a wave of energy flew through my loins. I was nearly there; I was ready.



“Is he enjoying it?” the Captain asked from behind my left shoulder. Sandy answered but I barely noticed her speaking. I did notice the firm, powerful stroke of Ramona’s cane, exploding a deafening crack on my buttocks and causing me to jump in shock and pain. “Enjoying it now?”



Tears streamed down my face as I yelled at my captors: this was a nasty torment, but they continued. For every stroke of my cock, I got a stroke of the cane. I tried so desperately to enter the lustful fog, ready to induce the climax I so desperately needed. I pleaded with my body: I needed to come, but it refused.

The front door.



White. With a gold doorknob.



Wendy stood in her foyer for several minutes, facing her front door. She wore short white socks and walking shoes. Her house key was on a long string around her neck.



She was otherwise nude.



Wendy had dabbled in exhibitionism for weeks now. One day the urge just struck her. When this happened, she took off all her clothes and stood in front of her door, like she was doing now. She was still fairly young, thin, with decent-sized breasts, and long smooth legs. With her heart beating heavily, even though it was the middle of the night, she had opened her door and stood in the doorway, with the hall light on, bared to the world, or to her moderately busy street anyway.



The rush of excitement on that first night had been amazing. The cool night air on her crotch and nipples. She had shut the door again seconds later, but it was a start.



Now, Wendy felt conditions were perfect to finally venture out, away from the safety of her front door. She’d had a few drinks and was feeling comfortably crazy. It was late June. The temperature was good. It was 2AM. Now was the time. She decided that even if she were to run into someone, she would not flee, but rather allow things to unfold as they may. Never had she felt so mentally and physically liberated.



The door. Yes, it was all about the door.



She opened it, stepped out into the night, and locked the door behind her. Here we go, she thought.



There were streetlights on either side of her, dimly lighting up her bare skin, but no one in sight. Yet. Resisting the urge to cover herself, she strolled down her driveway, reached the sidewalk, and turned right. She tried to walk normally, her arms swinging at her sides. She could feel her keystring between her breasts, could feel the air on her bare butt. At this thought she turned around to see if anyone was behind her, but there was no one there.



She walked past her neighbor’s house. She paused and faced it boldly, but no lights were on. She continued to the corner, her heart racing as she approached the bright streetlight, anxious at what was around the bend.



And sure enough, as soon as she turned right, she could see a young man coming toward her, about forty feet away. She stopped abruptly. She could feel sweat bursting out of her skin and her heart beating. The man stopped too. A boy almost, Wendy thought, he can’t be more than 19.



Then, amazingly, her arms still at her sides, she continued walking toward him. He didn’t make a move, but looked slightly embarrassed. She stopped a few feet in front of him. God, I really am crazy tonight, she thought, smiling.



“Hi,” Wendy said.



“Hey,” the boy said awkwardly, looking Wendy up and down, unable to help himself. “Uh, you need any help there?” he said with a half-grin. Wendy fought the urge to run. I can do this, she thought.



“No, I’m fine,” she said, still sounding as if nothing were out of the ordinary. The boy was carrying a book and a notebook. College kid, Wendy thought. Late-night studying. Wendy watched him shuffle his books around uncomfortably, gaining confidence inside at the effect she was having on him.



“Okay, well, have a good night then.” He started to walk past her.



“Want to touch?”



It was out of Wendy’s mouth before she even realized she was going to say it. The boy stopped again and turned around, a look of disbelief on his face.



“What?”



“Do you want to touch me?”



“Serious?”



“Sure.” Wendy was suddenly very aware of her nipples, her armpits, her crotch, her ass, her heart leaping out of her chest. It was so exhilarating!



The boy slowly put down his things, looked around briefly, and put one hand to his face, as if wondering where to begin. Wendy watched him reach out his hand toward her, her blood rushing madly under her bare skin. He caressed her neck and she jumped slightly, causing him to retreat.



“No, it’s okay,” Wendy heard coming out of her mouth. She focused hard on keeping her wrists locked at her sides, telling herself that this is what she always wanted. She was very aware of her breathing, his breathing too.



He ran his hand along her neck, brought his other hand up and felt her bare shoulders. Finally, his hands settled down on her chest and Wendy sighed deeply.



“God,” she heard him say.



“Keep going,” Wendy said, “Anywhere you want.” She was beyond self-control at this point. If anyone else was around, she didn’t know it or care.



He stepped around to her side, running one hand down her front over her trim midsection, the other down her back to her ass. Wendy shivered, her nipples harder than she’d ever known them to be. Her senses heightened. She could distinctly hear herself breathing, could hear his breathing, hear the hum of the streetlight, could feel his hands on her body, her feet on the ground, her wrists at her sides. Everything was so vivid.



He had moved behind her. He reached around between her legs to her crotch and touched her sensitive pussy. She straddled his hand and thrust her hips without even thinking about it. She felt his pants up against her butt, his erection pressing firmly against her. One of his hands trailed up to her breasts while the other stayed and rubbed her pussy smoothly. Wendy allowed herself to be possessed, on this street corner, by this stranger.



After what seemed like a long time, her mind returned to his hard penis still pushing against her. She turned around and stood very close to him, smelling his excitement. She unzipped his jeans and reached into his shorts.



“Oh God,” he breathed.



“Do you want this?” Wendy whispered.



“Yes, yes,” he said between heavy breaths. She found his thick cock and started stroking it, her other hand resting on his hip, her bare cunt inches away from him. She pulled and pulled and pulled on him. She heard an Mmmmm sound. She wasn’t sure which one of them was making it. Maybe both.



Suddenly she wanted him in her mouth, needed it.



She got down on her knees, barely feeling the hard sidewalk underneath her, and took his cock into her mouth.



“Oh God yes,” he moaned. She sucked him deep, smooth. He’s so hot and thick, Wendy thought. She sucked and sucked and sucked him. She pulled him out further and licked his balls, licked his cock, and kept on sucking.



She didn’t want to stop, but she felt him shift, felt herself rise. He reached under her leg near her knee, lifted it up, and plunged his cock into her.



“Oh yes, yes, fuck me,” Wendy moaned. “Really fuck me.” Her back against the lamppost, he fucked her in hard, firm thrusts, his other hand roaming her tits. His size was good and Wendy’s pleasure became very great in a hurry. She reached down and fingered her clit. “Oh God, don’t stop. Fuck me, fuck me, keep going.”



Harder, faster, deeper. Wendy was going to come, and she could tell he was ready too.



“Come inside me,” she whispered, softly grazing his cheek with her lips, licking the side of his mouth.



“Oh God,” he moaned back. He thrust in deep and held it. Wendy went over the edge; her body was bathed in pleasure. She forgot where she was, forgot everything. As if from far away, she felt his hot cum erupting into her, shot after shot after shot. He lowered her leg, pushed into her a few more times, and then finally pulled out.



Still reeling, Wendy watched his softening penis disappear as he pulled his pants up. She motioned to pull her own panties up, then realized she wasn’t wearing any.



“That was unbelievable,” Wendy breathed.



“You’re telling me,” he agreed, zipping up. “My God, do you do this a lot? Walk around like that? I haven’t seen you around here.”



“No, this was the first time,” Wendy smiled shyly.



“Not the last time I hope,” he smiled back.



“Definitely not the last time.”



“I’m Mark.”



“Wendy.” They shook hands, laughing.

Chapter 21 – Tracy’s strategy



After the pledges had slept only four hours, Tracy stormed into the pledge room with her usual:



“OK, sleeping beauties! UP-UP-UP! Let’s go…let’s go…let’s go!”



Lisa was so tired that she had largely forgotten the sympathy she had expressed towards the Pledge Mistress only a few hours before. However, with a groan she got out of her cot and immediately felt the sharp sting of a hard slap on her unprotected backside. What made matters worse was a cold look from Bernadette that clearly stated:



OK, Lisa, so you still feel the same way about this bitch that you did last night?



Because the pledges had upper-body PT with the sophomores, they only had to put on their shoes and socks. It was apparent that Tracy would be leading the exercise group, because she was dressed in the same manner as the pledges, completely naked except her shoes and socks.



As soon as they had used the toilet and brushed their teeth, the sleepy pledges knelt in a row as their mentor strutted back and forth just like an officer from one of those old World War II movies. They were too tired to see the humor in their situation, their sharp-tempered Pledge Mistress moving about as though she were a naked drill sergeant. Momentarily the group would have to go upstairs for morning PT, but Tracy wanted to lay out what was happening during the rest of the day.



“We’ve got house clean-up today. The whole house, and guess what? The Triple-A’s aren’t bringing their pledges over like they were supposed to, so it’s just us. When I say ‘us’, I’m including myself, because we just can’t be spending the whole day doing the house. I still want to get you guys over to the library to study after lunch, so we need to have the cleaning done before noon. After PT we got a very busy morning ahead of us.”



After PT, showering, and breakfast, President Alexandra rounded up the sophomores and juniors for a mandatory sorority trip to the library. The trip served two purposes: first to force everyone to study for at least several hours that weekend, and second, to clear the house so the pledges could clean it more easily. The seniors were not required to go to the library, but they were expected either to leave the house or completely stay out of the common areas.



After she cleaned up, Tracy returned downstairs carrying a clipboard and wearing nothing but pair of work shoes. That surprised the pledges, because she was among the more conservative members of the sorority and normally undressed only for PT and swimming. However, because she was to participate in the house cleaning, she felt that it was necessary to comply with the rule about the pledge uniform, i.e. that while in the house pledges could not wear any clothing.



The Pledge Mistress made it very clear that the only concern on her mind at that moment was doing the clean-up as quickly as possible. She was not interested in having any of the pledges show initiative or memorize anything out of the cleaning manual. Instead she organized the clean-up herself, ordering Lisa and Cherine to clean the bathrooms and sweep upstairs while taking Bernadette and Kathleen outside to do yard work. Tracy immediately pulled out a lawn mower from the tool shed, checked the gas, and began jerking on the cord to get it started. When she noticed the two freshmen staring at her, she snapped:



“Get started on that hedge, unless you want to push this mower around instead of having me do it!”



Lisa looked out a bathroom window to see Tracy behind the mower while Bernadette and Kathleen were working on one of the hedges. She began to wonder if the clean-up had been something the Pledge Mistress had not anticipated, something thrust upon her at the last minute. Were that true, was it possible it was Heather who had ordered Tracy to clean up the house? Was it possible that the promised help from the male pledges had been canceled because Heather had told the fraternity not to bring the guys over?



Bernadette’s hostility towards Tracy was tempered by seeing her at work in the yard. Tracy took all of the most difficult jobs for herself, because she was the one who edged after mowing and then dealt with chlorinating the pool. As the two freshmen finished their trimming, Tracy came by with a bag and rake to clean up, while ordering the two younger women to get started on the kitchen. Bernadette noticed Tracy sweating as she worked, a detail that motivated her to work harder once she went inside.



As Tracy scrubbed down the garden furniture, the pledges finished up the kitchen under Lisa’s direction. Tracy took out a ladder and yelled at Kathleen to hold it while she hosed the windows. Lisa snapped at her two remaining companions to “keep moving”. Bernadette glanced out the window at the frantic Pledge Mistress.



“What’s going on with her? Why’s she gone off the deep end with this clean-up?”



“We weren’t supposed to be doing this, that’s why. The Triple-A’s were supposed to have their pledges come over, and guess what? They’re not here, and that’s messed up her plans for us. She wanted to take us to the library this morning so we could look around, and she’s still trying to make sure we can get over there today. That’s why she’s gone off the deep end, as you say it! Now, you move your ass so we can get out of here!”



Incredibly, after only three hours, the training group had the entire house cleaned to inspection standards. While the freshmen showered, Tracy and Lisa conducted the walk-through and corrected a few minor deficiencies. Tracy signed the cleaning log and ordered Lisa to get her companions dressed into their uniforms and ready to “move out!”



Lisa noticed Tracy seemed to calm down considerably once the group was safely in the library. The freshmen had expected to be told to study, but Tracy passed out lists of books she wanted them to find and bring to her. The books covered every topic imaginable and came from every single shelf in the building. As soon as the pledges presented the books to her, Tracy ordered her charges to return to where they got the items and reshelf them. At first the exercise seemed extremely stupid, but the pledges later realized that Tracy wanted them to memorize how the library’s entire collection was organized. For example, if they needed to find a book about pig farming, they would know that the agronomy books were located on the third floor on shelves 3-H through 3-J.



Already it was late afternoon when the women left the library. The next stop was the Student Memorial Center. The pledges had some juice and fruit salad before being ordered to explore the building. They had a very good piece of fortune when they came across an alumnus guide leading a group of parents through the center. The pledges joined the group and received a guided tour, complete with trivia and explanations about the building and its history.



The final stop was the University Fitness Center. The five women signed in and toured the weight rooms, squash courts, and aerobics rooms. Tracy actually ordered her group to do a round of exercises on all the machines, passed out fresh T-shirts and towels, and directed the pledges to go into the women’s locker room and shower. All the while Lisa noticed her looking around, as though worried about who might be watching what she was doing.



Just before the sun began to set, Tracy led her group through Old Campus to let her pledges see the same area during the day that they had seen the previous night. As dusk settled and the university got darker, the women continued walking around to see how the area compared during daylight and when it was dark. They finished around midnight. When they finally left campus to return to the sorority house, Lisa and her companions had memorized in detail the area set aside for the scavenger hunt the following night.



The group walked along the detour that by-passed Pageant Street and Fraternity Row. As they approached the park where they had changed the previous night, Tracy frantically whispered:



“Behind the bushes! Quick!”



The five women hid just in time to hear Heather’s voice coming up the sidewalk, accompanied by the sound of a man’s voice crying and the crack-crack-crack of a leather riding crop hitting bare skin.



“Come-on, you fucking little wimp!”



Crack!



“Ohh…hoo…please…”



Crack!



“Don’t you ‘please’ me, you pathetic little shit! Now, keep running! The next time you stop without my permission, it’d better because you’re having a fucking heart attack!”



Crack! Crack!



“Ow!”



“Here! In the park! Let’s give your legs a rest and have you do some push-ups!”



While Tracy and her group held their breaths and watched from the darkness, Heather forced the fattest member of the Tri-Alpha pledge group to struggle through several sets of pushups. He seemed already knocked out from his exertions, his sweaty naked body trembling from fright and fatigue as she continued to savagely flog him with the riding crop. Lisa noticed one interesting detail about the pledge: that he was somewhat thinner than he had been the previous week.



Heather forced her unhappy companion to exercise until he was barely able to move. As he lay on his back gasping for air, the Four-Beta Sergeant-at-Arms astounded her hidden audience by pulling off her running shorts and squatting to piss in the grass, right in front of prostrate victim. In the darkness the pledges could tell that he was watching her with alarm. Apparently he knew what was coming next and what would be expected of him momentarily.



“OK, fat-bitch, you know the drill. Get on your knees. Clean me up and make me come!”



Heather placed her shorts on the ground under her bottom and lay back in the grass with her legs spread. The male pledge obediently moved between her thighs and began licking, first to properly clean the sweat and urine off her vulva, and then to give her an orgasm. She came very quickly. It was obvious the orgasm was no big deal to her; that its main purpose was to establish her dominance over him as opposed to giving her real pleasure. She climaxed, casually put on her shorts, and stood up. She savagely struck him across the thigh.



“OK, blubber-boy! UP! Let’s see about running some more of that fat off of you!”



She slammed the riding crop against his bare bottom a couple of times as they exited the park. Lisa heard Cherine comment:



“Jesus H…he isn’t that fat…”



Tracy drew a deep breath, partly out of relief that her group had not been caught by the Sergeant-at-Arms, but mostly from the distress that her pledges had seen something she wished they had not seen.



Once the Pledge Mistress was sure that Heather and her victim were out of ear-shot, she shouted:



“OK, Let’s move out! Quick step, move!”



As the pledges began running, Tracy’s voice barked out:



“Pledge Bernadette!”



“Yes, ma’am!”



“Call cadence!”



Following Bernadette’s lead, the women started clapping and chanting:



“Left…right…left-right-left!”



“Left…right…left-right-left!”



“Runnin’ that midnight Four-Beta left!”



“Runnin’ that midnight Four-Beta left…”



———-



The pledges returned to their cots and collapsed from exhaustion. They were not at all reassured by what had happened to them that day, nor by the knowledge that apparently Tracy did not fully trust the other officers of the sorority.



Bernadette in particular was very uneasy over what she had seen. She now suspected what Lisa already knew: that there was a rivalry or on-going fight between Tracy and Heather and that the Sergeant-at-Arms was not supportive of the Pledge Mistress. Bernadette’s dislike of Tracy had led her to wonder how she could side with Heather and perhaps ingratiate herself at the expense of Lisa and Tracy. Her hatred of the Pledge Mistress had led her to assume that anyone plotting against Tracy could count on her support, that “the enemy of my enemy is my friend”. However, watching Heather’s treatment of that male pledge in the park frightened Bernadette and made her question whether Tracy was really as bad as she had assumed.



Bernadette glanced at Lisa. She disliked Lisa almost as much as she disliked Tracy. She continued to resent Lisa’s role as the “leader” of the pledge group and her apparently close relationship with the Pledge Mistress. On top of everything else she resented Lisa’s sexual relationship with Kathleen. Not only did she think the relationship was inappropriate, but the very idea of being intimate with another woman totally grossed her out. And especially with Kathleen…Yuck! Why would anyone normal even want someone like that around, let alone…get intimate with her…Gross! Totally gross!



Bernadette was not at all thrilled about having to pledge alongside Kathleen, who she found very weird and gave her the creeps. She took a deep breath as she contemplated her dislike of the skinny girl sleeping next to her. Bernadette had known a couple of girls like Kathleen in high-school, whose fidgety gestures, shifty eyes, nervous way of talking, ignorance of fashion, and interest in things not normal for high school students made them total social rejects. Were it up to Bernadette, no one in the Four-Beta pledge program would have been nice to Kathleen. Instead, the group would have cold-shouldered her and let her know that she was not welcome in the sorority. The only reason she had not dared to express her dislike of her strange companion was because she had been afraid of Lisa and Tracy coming down on her.



Bernadette sat up in the darkness, as her assumptions about life, what constituted a worthwhile friend, and how she should deal with the people around her abruptly shifted under her. Suddenly she felt awful, because in a flash she understood that her hostility towards Kathleen was totally unjustified. Why did she dislike her fellow pledge so much? Yes, the girl was kind of creepy, but had she ever done anything bad to anyone else in the pledge group? It was obvious she had feelings, and that she had already endured more than her share of unpleasantness in life. It was obvious that she had endured a hellish time in school, at the hands of girls just like Bernadette. She always had taken it for granted that people like Kathleen deserved whatever ostracism and insults were inflicted on them because they were so creepy, but was that really true?



Bernadette’s thoughts drifted to her own recent years in high school, and then back to the present. She realized that how she had behaved in school was not something she should be proud of, and anyhow, her time in high school no longer had any relevance. As much as she hated to admit it, she was in a new environment and starting her social life from scratch. She now was an adult and in college. Her old peer group had scattered and her life had changed. She would have to learn how to relate to others differently if she hoped to move ahead. Really, who was Bernadette to judge someone like Kathleen? Or even to judge Lisa, for that matter?



Bernadette felt that her need to change was especially true regarding her perception of Lisa. Whatever her personal faults, it was obvious that Lisa was trustworthy, not particularly selfish, and that her primary interest was getting herself and the others through the pledging process. Bernadette’s thoughts drifted back to that first night at the Tri-Alpha house, when Lisa had jumped to her defense when the others were blaming her for making the group get punished. From the first night Lisa had pointed out something that later proved correct, that the pledges’ willingness to stay together and stand up for each other would be constantly tested. Lisa had been right about that, and since that first night had been right about many other things.



What if Lisa was right about Tracy; that of all the sorority officers, the Pledge Mistress really was the only one who was concerned about the pledges? The truth was that Bernadette knew what to expect from Lisa and Tracy, but did not have a clue about Heather’s personality or how trustworthy she really was. What she did know, from having seen it with her own eyes, was that Heather was capable of being vicious. She wondered: would I really want someone like that as my friend?



Finally Bernadette lay back down with a better understanding of her immediate future and how she had to change her perceptions about her social life. She did not think she would ever feel any warmth towards Lisa and Kathleen. However, she knew that even if she could not force herself to like them, she needed to treat them with the respect. She might dislike the Pledge Mistress even more than Lisa, but now understood that she could not possibly do herself or anyone else any good by taking sides against her. She had to accept Tracy’s leadership if she hoped to stay in the sorority and be a successful member.



Bernadette finally went to sleep. She did not yet realize, during those few restless moments she took a hard look at herself; that she had matured considerably.



———-



Pledge Mistress Tracy had two concerns on her mind for that Sunday. First, the pledges had to spend a good portion of the day studying, given that they had not spent any time studying on Saturday. Second, they would have to get some sleep during the day so they could be alert during the scavenger hunt. She decided that it would be best to have the pledges spend the day outside the Four-Beta house and began to wonder where she could find a quiet location where they could study and sleep.



There were only two locations she could think of that would meet the group’s needs. For studying the pledges could go to Burnside’s office in the Economics Building. That was fine, but what about sleep? There was a place that at first glance looked promising, Lisa’s dorm room in Huntington Hall. Although Lisa was not allowed to stay there during the pledge training, she still had her stuff there and in theory access to the room. Would it not be possible to grab some sleeping bags and have the pledges crash there?



Tracy then thought of a better option: Ruth Burnside’s house. Burnside’s house would be about as secret a location as she would be able to find; a quiet and controlled environment where the pledges could sleep uninterrupted until nightfall. Tracy then would take them back to the sorority house, producing her group well-rested and ready for action. She decided to e-mail Burnside and see if the professor was amenable to the idea of putting up the pledges in her house Sunday afternoon.



Burnside shocked Tracy by responding immediately. It already was 1:00 in the morning, but the insomniac professor was still on her computer catching up on her professional correspondence. Her answer relieved Tracy: that she could take the pledges over and keep them at the house all day. The only problem was that Burnside had to leave at 5:00 in the morning to go on a day-long boating trip on Lake Michigan with Halsey and some of their mutual friends. The pledges were welcome to stay at the house, but Tracy either needed to pick up a key or bring them over before 5:00. Tracy opted for the latter. She would have the pledges at Burnside’s house at 4:45.



Tracy decided to make the pledges walk over to the professor’s house, which meant getting them up at 3:30 a.m. She decided to do something else to psychologically prepare them for the scavenger hunt; they would have to walk from the sorority to Burnside’s house in the nude. Tracy figured there would be very little danger walking the four-mile route, given that the bars already had closed and it was extremely unlikely they would run into anyone walking in the dark at 4:00 in the morning. Upon getting to Burnside’s house she would order the group to go to sleep and then return to the sorority house to pick up their clothes and textbooks.



At 3:30 a.m. the light in the basement went on and the pledges heard Tracy’s dreaded:

Chapter 19 – Burnside’s Ghosts



Leaving Burnside’s house, Amy, Paul, and Wendy were too tired to notice that the front door stayed open a couple of inches until they drove off. The professor quietly watched the three students as they made their way down her sidewalk; Paul and Amy holding hands and Wendy close to Amy. She watched Paul open up the back passenger door for Wendy and the front one for Amy. She watched Paul get into the driver’s seat and close his door. He turned on the ignition and they were gone.



The silent woman in the doorway thought about Amy for a few minutes, and about the huge break she had given her that night. Was that student really so special? Did she really deserve all the attention and chances her professor had given her? She saw something in Amy, something that set her apart, but what?



Burnside’s thoughts turned to Paul. He truly loved Amy. The professor reflected that she never had a boyfriend like him. Her love of fetish and her violent temper had made any normal relationship out of reach for Ruth Burnside. Sure, she had enjoyed plenty of sexual relationships. She loved sex and always had at least one lover at all times in her life; usually more than one. But she never had experienced having a boyfriend walk her to his car, holding her hand, and opening the door for her.



She had big plans for Amy, which fortunately had not been derailed by her student’s failure to comply with the student aide contract. Still, the professor felt a pang of regret that her plans probably would force Amy to break up with Paul.



Burnside closed her front door and contemplated the mess in the living room and kitchen she had to deal with. She walked over to her coffee maker and helped herself to what was left of the coffee. The coffee tasted bitter after having sat out all night. Appropriate. Matches my mood.



Burnside took a shower and stood looking at herself in her hallway mirror. My fucking tits, she thought; God they look nasty. Just a few years ago she had been proud of her large breasts. They still looked all right in a bra or corset. But recently they had fallen. Loose, they sagged like two partially deflated water balloons, according to the woman’s critical view of herself. Her skeptical eye scanned the rest of her body. It still looked OK. But for how much longer? Menopause was staring her in the face. Two, maybe three years more at the most. Then she would look like shit. Just another single old woman. With that on her mind she crawled in bed.



She could not sleep. She was up after a few minutes, dressed in a sweatsuit. She did what she always did when she was depressed; turn on CNBC. As an economist, the lies and cheerleading coming out of CNBC and the other stock channels held a morbid fascination for her. What a bunch of bullshit, she thought. These people belong in jail, promoting stocks that could not hold their value, predicting big things for sectors of the economy that were already over-inflated.



She stared quietly at the screen, remembering her own bitter experience with “high finance”, and what happens when foresight gets in the way of profits. Dr. Ruth Burnside saw the telecommunications crash coming, long before the sector peaked. The law of supply and demand. Wasn’t anyone paying attention? Too much capacity was being built, too many losses being hidden in acquisitions. Yes, she saw it all coming, and tried to warn the public. The only reward she got for trying to tell the truth was to be blacklisted from the stock channels. They wanted cheerleaders, not the truth. Yes, she had been right, but in the end it didn’t matter. Her warnings went unheard, and all those investors (the small ones, that is) lost out.



The embittered economist sipped her cold, bitter coffee as she sat listlessly before the TV, listening to the latest flood of lies spewing out. Men, especially, seemed to be real suckers for this crap. The female announcer had just the right mix of beauty and professional appearance to play to male egos. The professor felt that she could put herself in the heads of the men watching this actress pretending to be an analyst.



Yeah. They were going to be the next Rockefeller by watching CNBC.



The new economy. The new era. New technology. What total shit. The fundamentals never change; they haven’t in over 500 years. Go back to the law of supply and demand. Look at history, that’s where you will find the truth about the “new economy”. But no one was listening.



After torturing herself with CNBC and cold coffee for an hour, Burnside noticed it was light outside. Time to walk the dog.



Old Maynard was on the back porch. The dog, named after the famous economist John Maynard Keynes, was 17, and looked it. His muzzle was white, his eyes covered with cataracts. The dog wagged his tail feebly and struggled to his feet.



Maynard, you’re not looking too good today, thought Burnside. The animal seemed to perk up when he saw the leash. The dog’s owner was relieved. She had promised herself the day Maynard did not care about his walk would be the day he would have to be put to sleep.



———-



The professor reflected about her past as she slowly walked behind her decrepit dog. For the first time in a while her thoughts went back to her childhood. She thought about her religious, optimistic parents. They were so naive. They were suckered time and time again, with their house, with their cars, with their insurance, with their investments. No matter how many times her father was ripped off, he always seemed to maintain his faith in the goodness of humanity and the generosity of God. The family lived in poverty, not because there was no money, but because her father was such an idiot about spending it. There always seemed to be bums hanging around, asking her parents for handouts. Invariably they received what they wanted. Ruth and her sister may not have had enough to eat, but the bums always got theirs.



Ruth Burnside grew up hating many things. She hated weak people, and she hated optimists. She hated people who looked on the bright side of things, because the bright side of life was something she never experienced.



From a very early age Ruth hated her parents, a hatred that eventually expanded to everything associated with their lifestyle and beliefs. She hated their fake cheerfulness, she hated their optimism, she hated their religion. She hated her used clothes and meals of Hamburger Helper. She hated seeing the money that should have been used to make her and her sister comfortable instead go to all those fucking bums. She hated being told that God smiled upon those who made sacrifices for the less fortunate. Ruth developed a foul temper and a controlling disposition, even at an early age.



Ruth’s feelings towards her parents were more hostile contempt than actual hatred, but towards their pastor she felt nothing but pure loathing. She blamed her church for making her parents into hapless puppets who were detached from any sense of reality. The sight of that deranged man screaming at his pulpit week after week, with his eyes wide with fanatical belief and sweat pouring down his face, did much more to make Ruth into an atheist than anything she could have learned in her science classes.



———-



As she strolled behind Maynard, waiting for him to dump, the professor’s thoughts turned to sex and S&M. Her interest in sex first began as an act of rebellion against her parents. Of course, in her household anything having to do with sexual expression was savagely condemned. The message was pounded into her and her sister constantly, not just by her parents, but also by her shrieking pastor and various Bible-study leaders.



At a very early age Ruth engaged in sexual play with other young teenagers, precisely because she knew that she was violating the most strongly-felt values of her parents and defying the most treasured beliefs of her pastor and bible-study leader. The girl’s plunge into sexual adventure was not something she drifted into; it was a decision she took on her own. Sex became Ruth’s early obsession in life. She became as fanatical about sexuality as her parents were about their religion. Ruth pursued her secret life with combination of research at the library and sexual play with her friends. She took advantage of every opportunity to find out what she could and already had picked up a surprising amount of information by the time she was only 13. Even before she finished middle school Ruth knew more about sex than most adults.



Ruth’s friends were a group of neighborhood boys, some of who were slightly older than she was. They began experimenting when the older boys reached puberty. Ruth, at age eleven, started to use the boys’ interest in sex and the fact that she was the only girl in the group to control them. Ruth’s increasing control over the boys was a gradual process. She learned to play on their weaknesses. The boys learned that everything with Ruth had its price. She loved forcing the boys to strip completely, sometimes in exchange for something as small as a kiss. Anything more than that had a much heavier price.



By the time she was 13, Ruth became interested in punishing her group-mates. She used her own body to bargain punishments with her friends. From the group there was one boy in particular with whom she spent her time. He let her punish him as much as she wanted. His parents were never home until after six, so Ruth and her friend spent hours at his house after school. He was the only boy in the group for whom she took off all of her clothes. She let him feel and kiss her body. She started to experiment with massaging him. Ruth’s price for letting him see and touch her was that he had to lie naked on the sofa while she slapped his bottom and legs. She told him that he could not get up until she allowed him to. If he did, she would never let him see her again. She had him under her control.



Ruth’s love of this fetish quickly increased. She loved the sense of control that she had over her friend. Hitting him seemed to give her power that she did not have in any other area of her life. She loved the sight of his naked adolescent body, covered with pink marks and squirming on the sofa. After a couple of months Ruth found an excuse to punish him with his father’s belt. The sight of the reddish belt marks on her friend’s bottom excited her even more.



Ruth’s friend desperately wanted to have sex with her. Slowly she used his desire as a bargaining chip for more severe punishments. She experimented spanking him with other household items such as breadboards and bath brushes. She began to experiment with different positions, such as having him bend over a chair. She delighted in forcing him to do risky things such as streak outside around the house. A couple of times she locked him outside nude, and forced him to stand at the back door negotiating what he had to do to be let back in. Very slowly she let him do more and more with her, but the exchange was always in her favor.



Finally, after two years, Ruth let him get inside of her. After the first time she loved it. She learned at a very early age the joys of combining pleasure and pain.



The first time was on a hot summer day. Ruth and her friend decided to go out into the nearby forest park. She could tell he was desperate to have her. They walked a long way and came upon a growth of willows. Ruth suddenly remembered that willows were what you make switches out of. While her friend watched nervously, she cut some and cleaned off the bark. They found a clearing with a fallen tree lying on the ground. Suddenly she turned to him and took his hand.



“Do you still want me?”



He nodded.



“You gotta to prove it. Get your clothes off.”



Ruth took hers off as well. The boy bent over the dead tree and she began switching him. The stripes on his bottom were darker than anything she had seen before. She was totally aroused. The feel of the hot sun against her own body exhilarated her even more. She grabbed his shirt and threw it on the ground. She kissed him and massaged him until he was totally hard. She lost her virginity on his shirt. The blood fascinated her, even though it was her own. She did not enjoy the pain of the first time, but she knew it got better once the first time was out of the way. She made him wear the bloody shirt on the way back.



From that point she had several sexual relationships in school. However, she did not want a normal relationship with tenderness and commitment. What she wanted was the feeling of control that always accompanied punishing her boyfriends. At that time Ruth’s sister worked in a pharmacy and was able to supply her with condoms, so in high school Ruth stayed out of trouble. Taking a whipping and wearing a condom, those were to two conditions for anyone who wanted to have sex with Ruth Burnside. She was surprised how many of her classmates were desperate enough for sex to be willing to meet her two conditions.



Ruth spent much of her youth avidly studying S&M literature. When she was 16 one of her old group-mates got a job at a bookstore and was able to get her some books on S&M, both fiction and pictures. The pictures with leather interested her. She loved the black clothing and its contrast with white skin. She still could not get into the adult bookstores to see this stuff for real. She had to wait another two years. But her imagination was fired. The feeling of control, of power, that she experienced by inflicting pain on guys desperate for sex filled her fantasy life.



Ruth took full advantage of her teenage classmates’ desperation for sex. She made herself available to a lot of the guys who, for whatever reason, could not have anyone else. But there was always a cost. Sex was on Ruth’s terms; a few minutes of pleasure in exchange for a punishment. By this time she had collected some breadboards, bath brushes, and belts and knew how to use them to maximum effect. She knew how to dominate her lovers. More than anything else in her life she loved the sight of a 16- or 17-year old classmate on his knees, nervously looking up at her, waiting.



———-



As a young teenager Ruth Burnside became as obsessed with money as she was with sex. She knew that understanding money was just as important as having it, just as understanding sex was just as important as experiencing it. Ruth’s early experience with money began as soon as she entered high school, a clandestine career that gave her much more control over her daily life than her parents could have envisioned or would have granted.



An unexpected result of Ruth’s fixation with learning about the forbidden topic was that, by age 14, her research skills matched those of many college students. When she entered high school Ruth already knew how to search through card catalogues, conduct investigations, and rapidly go through shelves of books for selected information. She became an expert at locating everything from obscure medical passages about sexual intercourse to sex scenes in novels. She had to learn how to search for the information by herself, because she was not about to let the library staff know what she was looking for.



High school research projects that daunted her classmates were nothing to Ruth. Upon entering the ninth grade, she began earning illicit income by writing term papers for various classmates. She did excellent original work that was not traceable as cheating and forced her customers to take the time to learn what was in the papers they were turning in to avoid being caught. As Ruth’s reputation spread her prices went up. She had no qualms about taking advantage of a classmate’s desperate situation to extort more money, or forcing two classmates to bid against each other to get a paper. Her knowledge of plagiarism and her total contempt for people unwilling to do their own work began at a very early age.



The most important lesson Ruth learned from her high school career of writing black-market term papers was the power having money could give her. As she increased her small hoard of cash, she learned that to have money was to have choices and freedom. No longer did she have to ask her parents for anything (not that she would have gotten it anyway), because whatever she wanted she could purchase with her own cash. Apart from items she could pass off as school supplies, she couldn’t buy anything expensive-looking that her parents would see at home. However, in her school locker she kept several pairs of new shoes, some books, cosmetics, a large collection of cassette tapes and a Walkman, and other small luxuries that would have outraged her parents and pastor. Whenever she wanted to get something expensive to eat, she bought it. By the time she finished high school the only thing she needed or wanted from her parents was a place to sleep.



Ruth Burnside graduated from high school with a vast knowledge of academic topics. However, her intelligence was not reflected in her grades, because she had spent so much of her time doing other people’s work instead of her own. Her grades were slightly above average, but not outstanding and definitely not good enough to earn her any scholarships or grants. Of course, from her parents there would be no money for college. The church, the bums, and the con-artists had taken it. Like her sister before her, Ruth enlisted in the Navy and later would go to college on the GI bill.



———-



Just before she enlisted, Ruth celebrated her 18th birthday by touring several sex shops. She did not have enough money to buy the expensive items, but she would be in the Navy in a few weeks and then would have some income. Her ability to extract a heavy cost for sex took off when she put on her sailor’s uniform. There was no shortage of desperate guys willing to do anything for a few minutes of sex in the Navy. Seaman Burnside now had money, so she could buy the leather sex toys she craved. The Navy gave her a steady supply of lovers to use them on, including a couple of officers.



Burnside reflected that it must have been in the Navy when everyone started calling her and thinking of her as Burnside instead of Ruth. Briefly, as an undergraduate, people did call her Ruth again, but she still thought of herself as Burnside, and signed all of her papers and correspondence with just her last name. By the time she entered graduate school, not many people even knew her first name.



Burnside liked the military. She liked the discipline and attitude about weakness. She liked having plenty of spending money. She liked her growing savings account. She would have stayed in had she not become pregnant. The pregnancy hit her a few months before her first contract was about to finish. She wanted an abortion, but her ship was at sea and she did not have access to a clinic until it was too late. Rather than sign up again, she returned to civilian life to wait out the pregnancy. She applied to several universities and lived off her savings until the baby was born.



She gave up the child for adoption. She had to, not because of her financial situation, but because she knew that her violent temper would make her an abusive parent. She cared for her daughter enough to know that she could not raise her. She was brutally honest about herself with the adoption agency. When her adoption counselor suggested that she seek help for controlling her anger, Burnside snapped “My temper is part of who I am. I can’t fix it. That’s why I’m here.”



Burnside avoided sex for almost two and a half years after she had her daughter. She was disgusted with having allowed herself to become pregnant. She knew better. She punished herself by staying celibate until she finished her undergraduate degree.



Burnside’s self-imposed punishment ended as soon as she had her undergraduate diploma. Her fantasies returned with a vengeance when she joined a Chicago sex group. She began to have longer-term relationships with other graduate students and professors who also were into fetish. One of her old professors, her first mentor Jim Halsey, was still her most trusted lover to this day, after nearly 20 years. Burnside started hosting small S&M parties at her apartment. Those gatherings later evolved into the elaborate parties that she currently hosted three times a year at her house.

Burnside started college two weeks after the baby was born and disappeared from her life. She took double loads of classes, getting her undergraduate degree in just two and a half years. She had her Masters Degree in a year and a half, and her Ph.D. two years later. She was obsessive about studying and good at her classes and projects. She became a student aide and quickly bullied any of the students she felt were not working to their potential. By age 27 Dr. Burnside was teaching. By age 31 she was tenured.



———-



The final turn in Burnside’s sex life took place when she became a teaching assistant. Having taken double-loads of classes as an undergraduate and still maintaining a GPA of 3.8, she had little sympathy for undergraduates who, taking half the classes per semester that she had taken, still could not handle the material. Nearly every undergraduate who came into her office complaining about her harsh grading was there because of personal irresponsibility. Burnside learned how to question the undergraduates to get out of them the fact that they had gone to a party the night before they took a test, or how they obtained a plagiarized term paper. She loved reducing irresponsible undergraduates to tears by probing them with their own words. It was only a matter of time before Burnside’s dominating of irresponsible students went a step further.



Burnside was in her final semester getting her MA degree when she punished her first student. She remembered the incident with loving detail. It started when she graded a term-paper. She already had seen this paper four times before. It seemed to be circulating between two sororities. The first time she saw the paper the TA had graded it and returned it. The second time she saw the paper, she realized that she had been tricked. She was furious, but there was nothing she could do against the first user of the paper. The second, third, and fourth times she saw the paper resulted in expulsions of the users from the university. Now was the fifth time. It seems these stupid sorority bitches don’t learn. Burnside laid out copies of the second, third, and fourth versions of the paper on her desk and waited for the fifth user to show up.



The girl’s name was Jessica. The offender was not the stereotypical rich-bitch that Burnside most loved to humiliate. She was blond, but naturally. Her face and figure were so stunning that even the TA was attracted to her, but she carried herself in a quiet, shy manner.



The student came in to the instructor’s office shaking. The TA, with her typical severe demeanor, silently pointed at the three previous versions of the paper. Burnside began sarcastically:



“Well, Jessica, it seems you took this class three times before, under different names. You really like the class that much?”



Jessica went white. There was no way that she could argue with the three term papers on the desk, staring at her like three witnesses. Burnside waved the student’s paper in the air and laid it next to the others.



“Looks like I have copy number four for my collection. You understand what happens next, right?”



Jessica did not break down crying like the others. Her voice trembled, but she clearly was determined to get out of her situation if at all possible.



“Ruth, please. I’ll do anything for you. I…can’t get kicked out.”



“Well, you should have thought about that before you turned in the paper. I can’t help you. You did this to yourself.”



“Ruth, please. Anything. I’ll do anything. Whatever you want. Please give me a second chance.”



“The matter is closed. You fucked up. That’s the end of it.”



“Ruth…I’ll do anything you want. Anything.”



Burnside suddenly realized what Jessica meant. She was offering herself to her TA.



Burnside opened he mouth to reject Jessica’s plea yet again, but then paused. The girl was stunning and being totally submissive to her. Burnside, who liked women as well as men, was attracted to her. This was a chance to have some real fun. Why not?



While the student sat nervously watching, Burnside typed up the following on her computer for the first time:



I, __________, admit to having attempted to commit plagiarism on __________. I have read and fully understand this university’s cheating policy, and am fully aware of the consequences for committing an act of plagiarism under the student code of ethics.



In lieu of disciplinary action from the university administration, I, __________, freely and willingly choose to accept the disciplinary alternative offered by my TA, Ruth Burnside. I understand that upon completion of the disciplinary alternative to Ms. Burnside’s satisfaction, I will continue my coursework and no further action will be taken against me.



Signed __________.



Her heart pounding, Burnside printed the sheet and handed it to the trembling undergraduate. “OK Jessica, here’s your second chance.”



The TA knew what she was about to do was risky. But the temptation of Jessica was simply too much for her to resist. She told the girl to be at her apartment that night, and let her know that the “disciplinary alternative” would be physical. Jessica, overwhelmed with relief that she was not going to be kicked out of the university after all, grabbed Burnside’s hand with both of hers.



“Oh Ruth, thank you! I’ll do whatever it takes to make you forgive me!”



“Well, we’ll see how grateful you are tonight. Remember, what happens between us will be to my satisfaction. You signed that.”



———-



A few hours later, Jessica was standing at Burnside’s door, shaking. The TA greeted her wearing regular clothes. Her habit of wearing outfits during discipline sessions only started after she bought her house.



The girl was scared. The earlier elation of avoiding expulsion had worn off. She realized that this was going to be a rough experience, when her TA picked up two sets of leather cuffs. Ruth loved the expression in the undergraduate’s face when she saw the cuffs.



“OK, get your clothes off.”



Jessica shook even harder as she took off her clothes. Burnside took the clothes to her bedroom. She returned to the living room to find the girl trying to cover herself.



Burnside wrapped the cuffs around Jessica’s wrists and ankles. She then clipped the offender’s hands behind her back as tears started rolling down her cheeks. She cupped one of Jessica’s breasts in her left hand, while gently brushing the tears off the girl’s cheek with the fingertips of her right hand.



“Jessica, you made you first mistake tonight by trying to cover up. I made you take off your clothes precisely because I want to see you. I am going to look at every part of your body and touch you where I want. You will spread your legs when I tell you to. You will touch me where I tell you to. When I tell you to do something, you will do it. Do you understand?”



Holding back the urge to cry, Jessica nodded. Burnside then led the student to the middle of her living room in front of her sofa.



“Stand up straight. Spread you legs.”



Burnside sat down. She spent a long time looking at the naked body in front of her. Jessica forced herself to stay standing straight with every bit of her willpower. The TA then stood up and started to touch the undergraduate’s shoulders and breasts. She kissed and licked her nipples until they got hard.



Burnside reached between the girl’s legs. She ran her hand up and down the insides of her thighs. She put one hand on Jessica’s bottom and ran her other hand through her pubic hair. She stroked her labia and clitoris. In spite of her fear and embarrassment, the girl became wet. Burnside rubbed her fingers back and forth soaking them with her lover’s arousal. Then she held her hand to the student’s face.



“I don’t want this on my hand. Clean it off.”



Burnside grabbed Jessica’s hair with her clean hand and pushed her fingers from the dirty hand against the girl’s mouth. Jessica licked the fingers clean. Feeling the young woman’s tongue on her fingers aroused her even more.



Burnside then took off her skirt and panties. She lay on her back on the sofa, with her legs spread wide. Jessica, her hands still behind her back, knelt in front of her TA. Burnside grabbed Jessica’s hair and guided the girl’s head between her legs. Jessica knew what was expected of her. Her tongue moved up and down Burnside’s clitoris and vaginal opening. At first she was a bit clumsy with her tongue, but she figured it out quickly enough. Burnside’s breathing quickened and she gasped as she climaxed.



Jessica’s ordeal was just beginning. Burnside forced her to get up, then kneel again on the floor in the middle of the room. She took a washrag and cleaned off the student’s face. Somehow not being able to clean her own face made the experience even more humiliating for the younger woman. Burnside knew that, and loved the girl’s expression as she began quietly crying. The TA got a couple of tissues and held them to Jessica’s nose.



“Blow your nose…there, that’s a good girl.”



Jessica’s punishment was next. Burnside unhooked her cuffs from behind her back and re-hooked them in the front. She then took Jessica’s arm and guided her back to the sofa. The TA sat down and guided the student over her lap. Jessica had a beautiful bottom. Burnside moved her hand over her lover’s trembling bottom and up and down the backs of her thighs. She slipped her hand between her bottom cheeks and moved her fingers up and down her vagina. Then, just as Jessica was about to climax, Burnside began spanking.



SLAP!…SLAP!…SLAP!…SLAP!…SLAP!…SLAP!… The loud swats resonated throughout the living room. Jessica quickly started crying again, this time much louder. Burnside continued slapping until her arm began to hurt. She lost count of how many times she had swatted Jessica. By the time Burnside was finished the girl’s lovely bottom was a deep dark pink, as dark as it would have been had she been hit with a paddle. Her body was shaking with sobs.



Burnside glanced at her clock. She noticed that nearly 45 minutes had gone by since she had started spanking. No wonder her arm was so tired. She gently ran her hand over Jessica’s bottom until the student stopped crying. She then slipped her hand between the girl’s legs again. After a while, Jessica parted her legs and thrust herself up. Burnside gently fondled and caressed the entire area between the girl’s bottom-hole and clitoris as she gasped and groaned. She looked up. Her eyes met those of her TA.



“Ruth! Ruth, please!”



Burnside had not counted on this. She helped Jessica sit up and kissed her. Then it was the TA who had her head between her student’s legs, making her climax. Jessica lay back on the sofa, gasping with delight, her cuffed hands grabbing Burnside’s hair.



They ended up spending the night together. Burnside took her time with Jessica, in contrast with most of the guys she had slept with. Both women would remember that night for the rest of their lives.



In spite of the intense experience they shared that night, Burnside and Jessica never spent another night together. Jessica had a boyfriend and Burnside had her various lovers. Burnside always hoped that her student might come back for another session, but she never did. Still, she gave her one-time lover an A on her make-up term paper when she should have gotten a B. Jessica passed the class and moved on with her life.



Jessica was the first student out of many whom Burnside would punish for plagiarism or cheating. The professor was able to size up the students she had caught cheating, to determine who would submit to a physical punishment and who would not. So far she had stayed out of trouble with the campus administration.



Burnside never felt guilty about using cheating as a justification for satisfying her sexual desires. What was the alternative for the student? Expulsion. Being blacklisted. A wrecked life. Burnside’s method ultimately was much more humane. A night of pain, and then it was over. The student could move on with his or her studies. Her method gave the student a second chance. The student code of ethics did not. Amy was not the first student that she had punished who later had ended up being one of her best.



Burnside knew most of her students hated her and were afraid of her. But, each semester, there were the few who were fiercely loyal to her. Those were the ones who kept her in teaching, when she could have pursued work in the private sector for more money.



———-



Ruth Burnside’s thoughts returned to her daughter. She wondered if her daughter was in college now, and if so what she was studying. She wondered if her daughter would ever try to contact her. If she did, Burnside had nothing to hide. She would tell her daughter the truth about herself and why she could not keep her. She had a feeling that wherever her daughter was, she was doing great things. She would be about Amy’s age right now.



Amy entered Burnside’s mind again. Amy Debbs had her faults, but she was tough. She was a survivor. Burnside just recently had found out about her student’s months on the street and the overdose of her friend. She also knew that Amy’s parents were dead and that she was living with that photographer. Amy had overcome all her losses and was now in college. Burnside liked that about her.



Burnside realized that Amy admired her and wanted her understanding of the world. She understood that Amy was desperate to please her, and not just for grades. There was something more to Amy’s feelings about her, something much more personal. The professor saw that quite clearly tonight. It was the expression in Amy’s face that caused the professor to cancel her punishment.



Suddenly Burnside realized what it was she saw in Amy. She looked into her student’s face and subconsciously saw her daughter. She saw a girl she wanted to mold, to toughen, to prepare for great things in the world. Burnside was doing it the only way she knew how. Had she been able to keep and raise her own daughter, she would have been like Amy, faults and all. Amy had no parents and obviously had that gap in her life. Burnside obviously had a gap in her own life, her missing daughter. Somehow, in a weird, distorted way, Amy Debbs and Ruth Burnside were drawn to each other.



My daughter, thought Burnside. I guess losing her affected me more than I realized.



———-



Maynard finally dumped. His owner bent down to pick it up with a paper towel and dropped it in a paper bag. With her mission accomplished, the professor took her dog back home. Maynard had been her companion since her last year getting her Master’s degree. He would be gone in a couple of weeks at the most, along with Burnside’s youth. She sensed that the dog’s passing would mark the halfway point of her life. It was all downhill from here.



Burnside snapped at herself. Stop it! So you’re no better than anyone else! You have 30 good years left to do something with yourself! Get your next lecture ready, for a start!



With that she sat down to review her lesson plans. Then she e-mailed a couple of co-workers to exchange information about the latest cheating scams going on. She got an e-mail back with a new website that had a bunch of papers posted from UCLA. Her e-mail acquaintance gave her a password to access the site. Burnside checked the website and looked over the list of papers. She was sure that eventually she would see some of these in her classes. Ha! She would have to tell Amy and her other student aide to be on the lookout for this newest batch of papers.



Dr. Burnside was ready for class, but still had an hour to kill before she had to be at the university. She began to clean up, starting with the dishes. Suddenly the enormity of her task dispirited her. She finished filling the dishwasher and turned it on. The rest would simply have to wait. To hell with it. She could clean up tonight.



Her depression returned. She was desperately tired, but still could not sleep. She gave up on the thought of getting any rest and got dressed for class.



———-



As she put on her severe dark business outfit, the professor glanced down at a very worn-out stuffed toy raccoon that was sitting by her dresser mirror. The stuffed animal seemed out of place, sitting alone on her dresser. However, in her life that toy was not out of place at all. Seeing the threadbare raccoon returned her thoughts to her childhood, and to the hatred she felt for her parents and their religion. She thought about that one Christmas, which more than any other event in her life, forged Ruth Burnside’s character and personality.



Ruth was seven at the time, just about to turn eight. At that time she still believed. She still believed in Santa Claus, in God, and in Christmas. Like any other small child, she had her wish list of things that she wanted. She knew better than to hope for a lot of presents, but she had made it a point to be good all year. Certainly Santa and her parents would reward her efforts with something. Ruth’s hopes rose when she saw a large number of toys and other presents in the garage. She peeked through the door when her parents and another couple from their church wrapped them. Then came Christmas Morning. Ruth was heartbroken when all she got were a couple of sweaters.



Ruth’s father, beaming with happiness, gathered the family for breakfast and lectured his daughters on the joys of giving. Then the family piled into the car and drove to different charities to drop off the gifts. So that was it, the gifts were for charities, not for Ruth and her sister. As the trunk was emptied of presents Ruth’s emotions went from hope, to despair, to hatred, and then to rebellion. Her child’s mind asked the question, why were the charity children more important than herself and her sister? She had been good, really good, but she realized that there would be no presents for her, just the same crappy clothing. So Santa had not listened, or if he did, her father had taken her presents for the charity children. She was old enough to understand what her father’s words, “the joy of sacrifice” really meant for her. The Burnside girls would sacrifice, but for her there was no joy in it. As they went from charity to charity Ruth quietly glared at the other children with hatred as they opened the presents that should have been for her.



Ruth’s rebellion that day was a quiet one, but it was the first out of many secrets she would keep from her parents. When her father was not looking, she grabbed a small soft package and pushed it under her father’s car seat. Later she could retrieve it and see what it was. Santa had failed her. Ruth had to help herself.



Ruth’s heart pounded for the rest of the trip around the charities. Would God punish her? She was sinning. She felt the terror of religious guilt, and wondered if God would strike her down. But no, nothing happened. The Burnside family finished their distribution of presents and returned home. There would be the evening prayers, and then their meager dinner. Ruth’s father spent the day blissfully unaware of the change that was taking place in his daughter’s soul.



That night Ruth slipped into the garage to see what was in the package. It was a small stuffed toy raccoon. It was cute, but an average child would not have looked at it twice. She returned to her bedroom and got in bed with it, snuggling her face against the toy’s soft fur. She called the raccoon “Rickster”.



Rickster led a clandestine life in Ruth’s bedroom. She made a bed for him out of a small cardboard box and some old washrags. Ruth wondered where Rickster could sleep and not be discovered. Finally she settled on the inside of her chest of drawers. She realized that if the bottom drawer was pulled completely out, there was just enough room for Rickster and his bed behind the drawer. At night Rickster slept with Ruth.

There was no way she was going to work. She called in sick – something she hardly ever did – but after last night there was no way. In spite of hardly sleeping at all, she was running off the energy from her ‘trip to the river.’



Not wanting to disturb him (he never seemed to be bothered by this burst of energy, aside from his near constant erection) she sat in the kitchen sipping tea and reading. Even in the darkest part of the morning when she would usually be filled with dread about her situation, the white light filled her with optimism and calm.



Finally, just as he was getting up she realized how exhausted she truly was. Leaving a message with her admin, she went to her bedroom.



She joined him in the bed as he sat up, the sheets falling away from his chest. She leaned over and kissed his nipples, letting her tongue rub against them.



“Mmmm, that’s nice.” His hands stroked her hair. “Couldn’t sleep?”



“No fucking way,” she sat back up, pulling the sheets away from him to expose his cock. “I don’t know how you do it.” She cupped the flaccid member in her hands, focusing on his sac and pubic hair. It was so beautiful. She smiled as it stirred from her attentions.



“You hit it pretty hard, didn’t you.” He lifted her nightgown to see her better, fondling her breasts and pinching her nipples lightly.



“Mmm hmmm.” She loved what he was doing.



“It was pretty difficult those first few months at the ashram. Thankfully there wasn’t a lot for us to do during the day – the older novitiates were responsible for most of the duties while the newbies were getting trained. I remember those first few times – very intense.” He kept stroking her lightly. “What was it like?”



She tried to explain the different feelings, the tastes and the hallucinations, but it was like explaining a dream – more was lost in translation than she could convey. Meanwhile, his fingers had started to heat her up again; the fires rekindling. She didn’t have to go anywhere, but she knew he did. “Do you really want to keep going with this, or should we stop?” She pointed to his rapidly stiffening penis to make her point.



“It sounds like you made another breakthrough last night,” he continued, ignoring both her question and her hesitancy. “Is the ‘white fire’ still active or has it quieted?”



She nodded, implying it was very much still going on.



“Tantric doesn’t mean withholding pleasure – you know that, right?” He waited for her to nod. She was completely naked now, sitting up against the head board, her legs open to his fingers, her nipples erect. “I’ve said this before, but maybe you have a better appreciation for its true meaning, given your experience last night:. It truly means ‘weave’ as in the total weaving of life. Sometimes you have to get outside of the tapestry to really appreciate it. It’s not something you should make a habit of, but it definitely is important to do every once in a while.”



She knew exactly what he was talking about. The ‘rising above’ the ocean, the clearing of the white fog – it all felt as if she had broken free of something only to be consumed or…infused…in something much larger. But it was frightening at the same time – to lose one’s self. And it was exhausting even as it was exhilarating.



In spite of her growing arousal, she couldn’t stifle a yawn and she felt pressure from her bladder – all of the tea she had drunk was trying to find a way out. As intense as the prior evening’s experience in the elevator had been, she wasn’t interested in repeating it this morning.



“You’re not going in?” He pulled back, bringing his fingers to her mouth for her to lick them off.



She shook her head, sucking her musk off of them.



“What about your car?”



Shit! She had forgotten about it. Her heart jumped a little at forgetting, the injection of adrenaline woke her up slightly. Several alternatives drifted up: call a cab, call Carole what day was it? Was she working today? Take a bus, she wasn’t sure what line it was near; Ride her bike – it was only a few miles…ride her bike.



“S’all right. I think I can get to it later today. No, I’m too tired – I didn’t sleep at all,” her yawn underscoring her words.



She followed him into the bathroom and waited, watching him pee. As he got in the shower, she sat on the toilet musing on the last 12 hours. It seemed every time they got together the sex was more intense than the last time. As she wiped herself she felt a little tender and bruised. He must really have been slamming into me.



She stepped into the shower with him, even though she was just going to go back to bed. She just wanted to be close to him, to feel his skin against hers and let the warm water flow over her.



He was covered with soap; his skin was silky and smooth, sliding easily against hers. She dropped her hands to feel his tight ass cheeks, so firm and soft. He had fine hairs just below the waistline she liked to play her fingers over. She felt the lather flowing through her fingers as she rubbed her hands up his spine and down into his crack.



She dropped to her knees, the water spraying into her face, and took his member into her mouth. She wanted to give him a nice sending off to work present.



“You don’t have to do this,” he said, his hands holding her face.



She mumbled her agreement and continued to suck him into her, trying to get him as stiff as possible, to fuck her throat again. The water drummed on her head as she started pistoning up and down on him.



“You know,” he said with a philosophical tone, “I’ve had more sex with you in the past few months than I’ve had in the years before?”



She felt herself start to moisten at the idea she had been the source of his pleasure for so long and continued her efforts. She knew from all that experience no matter what she did here, he wouldn’t release into her, but the thought occurred to her that maybe just increasing the number of times he’d done it would make it more difficult for him to resist cumming.



In a few moments she felt him begin to stiffen again, but was not rewarded with anything out of the ordinary. Not even the cinnamon smell she’d pulled from him the night before.



She got up, smiled at him and sucked his tongue into her mouth, pressing her lips against his, before she exited the shower with a light giggle.



“Hey,” he said, sticking his head out after her. “You’re not busy tomorrow night by any chance, are you?”



She dried herself off and laughed. Right. Busy. Like I’ve got anything else to do in my life. The pile of laundry was only one of the things marking how little time she’d spent on her own lately. “No. Nothing I can think of.”



“Good,” he said from under the water. “I’d like to take you out on a special date.”



* – * – * – * – *



Champs Elysees. She had only read about it the week before. There was no way they were sitting in the restaurant. How could he get a reservation? She mentally kicked herself. Of course he could get a reservation. He probably owns the place.



Muted colors – a soft pastel coral colored theme. White tablecloths, crystal glittering, full place settings. The staff ready but not obsequious. She sat quietly, looking over the menu. The chef, she remembered reading, a protégé of one of the leading lights. She tried to remember the article…which was the signature dish. It didn’t matter, it all looked fantastic.



He looked at her, his eyes black and glittering in the candlelight. She looked back down from the intensity of his gaze. The sommelier poured the wine, the waiter came for their orders. It was all a dream. Her life had been turned upside down in a matter of months. What am I doing here? She marveled at her fortune; at this man who cared so deeply for her; for who she truly was.



“Marcie.”



His voice broke into her thoughts. She put down the wine glass and looked at him.



“I’ve come to a decision, and I need to ask you something.”



Oh god. No! yes. Yes Yes. Yes, It’s not possible. He’s not going to say it! Her mind raced at the thought of what he was going to say. It couldn’t be happening. Of course! Of course I’ll say yes! She kept her face calm, raising an eyebrow to signal her question.



He was reaching into his coat pocket. “While I haven’t said it to you very often, over the past two months, I’ve come to realize that I am deeply in love with you.” He held open a black box, the lavender velvet inside holding a glittering white ring. “I am going to ask you one of the most difficult questions of your life…” He held up a hand to stop her from interrupting him. “…and if you don’t think that’s true than you really don’t know what I am about to ask of you. Marcie. Will you become my wife?”



He took out the ring and held open his hand, asking for hers.



Fuck! Yes! Of course! She gave him her hand.



“Before you answer, I need you to think carefully about it. In fact, I would like you to hear me out, and sleep on it before you tell me your answer. I do not want you to make this decision lightly. No….please,” he slipped the ring on her finger and stopped her again, “I mean it. I have a few things to say and I really don’t want you to tell me your answer until I know you’ve had a chance to consider it.”



What could he be thinking? Of course I’ll say yes!



“You know I will be able to take care of all of your material needs. That is not a question. But life with me will be very difficult. I know,” he smiled bashfully at her, “you think I’m easy, but the fact is, we’ve been courting and life is always easy when couples court. There is a lot you don’t know about me that I need you to know before you make your decision.



“You know I am very wealthy…and you know that money means very little to me. My lawyers will insist on a ton of paperwork – it’s just the nature of having so much – they are paid to protect me. You should consider getting an attorney yourself, given…”



She had stopped paying attention, focusing instead on the ring. It fit her almost perfectly. No diamonds, just a simple band. And then she looked more closely at it and saw it had a complicated and subtle weave of three different colored metals. Damask. Like an antique Arabian sword.



Married. He’s asked me to marry him! All of the past two months collapsed like a telescope into a flurry of dinners, new clothes, resorts and sex. Lots of incredible sex. And the Tantra. It meant he was confident she would be prepared enough…to take his semen….to have his child!



She sat back stunned at the conclusion.



“Are you okay?” He was smiling.



“Yes. I mean, ‘yes,’ I’m okay. I’m more than okay. Monty!” She started to cry, as much from the pure emotion of his asking her as from the reality, or unreality, of the situation suddenly overwhelming her. A thousand thoughts sped through her mind: who would be her bridesmaids? She could quit her job! Paperwork, what paperwork? Lawyer, was Cindy’s Dave an attorney? Her condo. She could sell her condo. Pre-nup. He’d want a pre-nup, hence the lawyer. Carole, maid of honor…and so on.



He motioned to a waiter. “Would you like to drink on it?”



She saw the champagne in the cooler, and realized he must have planned this fairly far in advance. The ring – it wasn’t something you found in a store. The ring!



“Monty. It’s so beautiful. I’ve never seen anything so intricate.” She rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger, feeling the engraved and raised patterns, like a miniature landscape painting wrapped around the band.



“So, please. I would of course be devastated if you said ‘no’, but I really don’t want you to jump into it either.”



“But, why? Why shouldn’t I just say yes? Yes! Of course I will marry you. Give me three reasons I shouldn’t?” What she wanted to do was jump out of her chair, kneel in front of him and pledge her unwavering allegiance to him, but a) it was one of the fanciest restaurants in town, b) she didn’t want to give up all of her dignity and independence before they’d even tied the knot and c) she was horrified at the image of her bound and naked kneeling before him…horrified and aroused. His response snapped her back.



“Three? I could give you three hundred. Okay, let’s see.” He was still smiling but she could tell he was taking her seriously. He raised his glass. “But first, regardless of your answer, here’s to us.” They drank a toast. “Okay, three reasons. 1) I am never at home, I mean, really never. 2) I move in circles you might find extremely uncomfortable. 3) I am deeply opinionated and uncompromising. Should I go on?”



She found all of his statements to be either describing someone she hadn’t dated for almost three months, or completely inaccurate. “Hold on. Never home? You and I have seen each other practically every other night for two months! If that’s never home, I’m okay with that. Circles. It’s funny, I was just thinking about my ‘circle of friends’ the other night at the restaurant. I wasn’t feeling like I had much in common with them…chickens! On the other hand, if by circles you mean the folks we spent some time with last weekend at Grey’s Pointe, I could probably get used to some of those folks. Antoinelle was quite nice.” She flashed him a wicked smile in case he had forgotten Antoinelle’s and her afternoon together. “And, what, deeply opinionated and uncompromising. Hmmm….I haven’t found your opinions to be so disturbing or difficult to live with. Nope. Not good enough.”



She swallowed the remainder of her glass and set it down. The waiter immediately poured her another glass. She stared at Monty looking deep into his eyes. Black…dark dark brown at least and she could see the heat in them. His face was lit up; it was obvious to her he wanted her to say yes. On reflection, she knew he would handle whatever she answered, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why she should say no.




“Hmmm. The other night. In the elevator.” He waited for her embarrassment to pass. “You like that right? Wait. Wrong question. I liked that. A lot. And Grey’s Pointe. I liked that a lot too. I liked taking you to places you haven’t been. And I don’t just mean fancy resorts.” He watched her until she nodded. “I would like to keep exploring new territories with you. I want to marry you to explore places we’ve never been together…and it may be too much to ask.” He took a sip of wine and let the ideas sink in. “Well, naturally I wouldn’t have proposed if I thought you would refuse, but I really want you to sleep on it. This will be…” He paused, not sure what to say that wouldn’t be insulting. “…huge.”



She smiled at her situation. “You’re not that big.” She hid her face and reactions to his latest challenge behind the champagne glass.



* – * – * – *



It was while sitting in Patti’s office Marcie realized a full month had flown by. The flurry of events, decisions and changes made her stop talking for a moment and reflect on all that had happened.



She picked a thought at random from the blizzard in her head. “Do you think it’s significant that I didn’t call my parents first to tell them?”



As Marcie expected, Patti turned the question around. “Do you?”



“I’ve been thinking about it a lot. The first thing that occurred to me as soon as he put the ring on my finger was I had to call Carole…and then you. ” She paused to think about it a little more. “I guess it isn’t that big a deal…”



It had been a whirlwind: as he suggested, his lawyers dropped a ton of paperwork on her. Thankfully Dave had recommended an excellent attorney. Tom had reviewed all of the agreements and had pushed back on several of the clauses. Neither Marcie nor Monty really cared – she knew he would take care of her no matter what, and while having money was going to give her a lot more free time, how much did she need? The pre-nup figure was more than she had ever expected to make her entire lifetime of working.



She had asked Carole to be her maid-of-honor. Her friend’s personality grated on her nerves at times, but she was exceptional at organizing things. The first problem, however, was the date.



He didn’t even permit her to talk about details the night he proposed, insisting she sleep on it. The next time they got together, when she officially accepted his proposal, she immediately wanted to discuss the date. She wasn’t sure why people waited, except to make sure they got on everyone’s personal calendar, and then the reality hit her: venues, caterers, etc. etc. But all of that took a back seat to Monty’s request: he didn’t care what kind of wedding she wanted to put together – whatever she wanted he would support – they couldn’t have any personal ceremony until they were officially married by Sundar in the ashram in India.



“How…uh…when would that happen?”



“I don’t think it will take much to get on his calendar. As busy as he is, I think there is always room to marry one of his students.” Monty smiled but then grew more serious. “The bigger issues will be travel arrangements and such. Do you have a passport?”



She nodded and then re-considered. How old was it? She wasn’t sure it was current.



And so it went. The days continued into weeks, with more details emerging every time she and Carole worked through one.



Her therapy with the gizmo continued, twice a week. Patti came over to Monty’s (soon to be the both of theirs!) house for each session and each time Marcie and she debriefed. Marcie didn’t think anything new was happening – she had continued to explore different pasts with different characteristics of her personality. What she did begin to notice was her feelings about her alternate pasts: with each session she became more accepting of whatever she saw. Some of the pasts seemed completely out of the realm of possibility.



They had been sitting in the study – she had decided to call the glass room the study – sipping a glass of wine. She had just finished her debrief with Patti and they had seen her to the door. The session had been pretty tame – nothing having to do with nudity, submission or anything overtly sexual at all. She had talked with Patti about her feelings, about her excitement at the changes going on in her life and she was still fairly awake.



She hadn’t yet had the courage to broach the topic Monty had raised during his proposal. Marcie had pondered it over and over – was it a thinly veiled request to be his submissive? Even as he was saying it, she could feel herself moisten – the image of her stripped naked and bound, kneeling at his feet in the restaurant. Was that what he wanted? In spite of her earlier conviction he didn’t need her to be any one way or another, the thought of being his…his to do with as he wanted, turned her on. The thought had crept into her head more and more over the last couple of weeks – another in a long line of obsessive thoughts. She knew it was just her being her, but she couldn’t shake the thought.



She felt the eyes of the stars and woods on her; as he puttered around behind her, she unbuttoned her blouse and removed it. He barely took notice.



She had removed her bra and stopped, her breasts now free to feel the slight breezes in the room, her nipples stiffening. She unsnapped her skirt, shimmied out of it and was in the process of peeling her underwear down her legs when he stopped. She looked up and saw he was getting erect through his trousers, bringing a smile to her face. I love that he gets hard just by watching me



“I hope I’m not distracting you too much…” She pulled her underwear off and sat back looking through the skylight. The room was dimly lit, dark enough for her to see the sliver of the moon.



“I’m not doing anything terribly important…at least not so important I can’t take a few moments and ogle you.”



She thought back to the last session in the theater and an idea struck her.

“I know you are preparing me for the time when you can release yourself into me, right?”



He stopped whatever he was doing and took a seat next to her; it seemed she was getting serious about something. “Yes, that’s part of it. Partly I want to share with you the incredible feelings I and so many others have had.”



She realized it was as close to a religion as he believed in, but she wasn’t finished – she braced herself to ask him what he had meant, whether he really wanted her to give herself to him…completely. She put her hand on the bulge in his crotch, stroking it absent mindedly. “And I’m only too happy you have. It’s been nothing short of fantastic.”



“What’s the matter?” He reached over and traced a pattern on her right nipple, watching her aureole pucker in response.



“I…I don’t know how to ask this, Monty.” She saw herself again, kneeling on the floor, her hands bound behind her, her face looking at his cock and waiting for his command. “I…I’m thinking about what you said the night you proposed…about ‘exploring new territories.’ That night…right then, when you said it…and now…right now…I…oh shit. I don’t know how to say this. I’m being such an idiot.”



He stopped and looked at her. Naked, exposed and now shy like any of the employees at his office, too awed by his status to even complete a sentence. He breathed through the growing irritation, waiting for her to come to whatever it was she was struggling with.



“You know how at Grey’s Pointe, how you took me before the party, how you forced me across the chair, exposed in front of the vanity mirror? Remember the other night, here, where I needed your help…?” She didn’t know how to say it and hoped he could guess what she was thinking. It was no use, he sat there, his face impenetrable. “Shit. There’s nothing for it but to just get it out. Monty, do you want me to be your submissive?”



Before she could react, he leaned into her and pressed his lips to her mouth, forcing his tongue against her, his hand gently stoking her breast. She inhaled sharply through her nose, his response startled her. She responded, pushing her lips against his, wrestling his tongue with hers. And just as suddenly, he pulled away, a gleam in his eye.



“Really? That’s what’s been going on here?” He waited until she nodded. “Before I answer that question, let me ask you a question first. Do you think you are making progress with your therapy?”



It was a fair question; she spent a lot of time considering it herself. “Yes. I do. Why? Do you?” She suddenly felt truly exposed, her inner psyche as open to his inspection as her body was to his eyes.



“It’s not for me to say, Marcie. I’ve enjoyed you since the day we met, before I knew your past, your concerns, the work you’ve been doing. Do you seem happier to me? Yes, definitely!” He leaned in and kissed her again. “But then, you say shit like this and I either want to laugh or call Patti.”



“What…what do you mean?”



“Submissive? You be my submissive? Is that what you want? Is that what exploring new territories means to you? I want to go where you haven’t gone before. Why…why did you think I meant you should be my submissive? Why…shit…why didn’t you think I should be your submissive?”



The thought of him kneeling before her, naked and bound, asking permission of her for his sexual release was so ridiculous, so foreign to her expectations that she started to laugh. And she kept laughing. The release of weeks of tension, the silliness of the image, the delight at the possibility, the very fact he could even imagine such a scenario tickled her. Her stomach cramped and tears squeezed from her eyes.



“Do you remember the end of that weekend, when I lectured you on pigeonholing? Being my prostitute? The labels, Marcie. The labels don’t exist. If being submissive to me is a turn-on for you, let’s explore that! If having me tied up and at your mercy is a turn-on for you, let’s do that. It isn’t what we call it. It’s what it is.”



His hands reinforced his words. He spread her legs and put her arms on top of the sofa, bending down to lick her nipples. “What do you want me to do?” His fingers played down her belly, teasing her just above her labia. She moved her hips unconsciously, staring at him and trying to recover her breath.



Although they hadn’t made love after every session, she had crested the waves at least a few more times since the night before his proposal. That night seemed to be the turning point for her and every time she’d immersed herself it had become easier, less novel, but no less intense. She felt she was getting better control over it, that she needed less stimulation to get there. Now, with him spreading her open to his eyes, she could feel the white flames licking up her spine and she thought she might crest without any further effort. She wanted to go there…but there was another question, an earlier question she had wanted to pursue. She took a breath, closed her eyes and held his hands away from her body for a moment. It was related – the idea of being his submissive….she breathed, concentrating on the prior thought.



“What if…what if you had slipped up somehow…what if, in some alternate past you hadn’t stopped yourself from coming…like a few weeks ago in the hotel room at Grey’s Pointe. Do you think there is such a past?”



She could see by his reaction that it was a stupid question. Of course there was such a past – there were infinite possibilities at every moment. Surely, there was such an alternate. She rolled her eyes to let him know she realized how stupid it was to ask that way.



“What I guess I’m asking is, can we see a past where you come?”



He raised his eyebrows and glanced over her shoulder for a moment checking the time. “Would you really like to see one of those?” He seemed uncertain. His eyes returned to her body. She saw his cock pulse slightly inside his slacks.



“I was just curious. Yeah, I guess I would. You don’t have to watch with me, but I’m not sure how I would bring it up. Is it something where I can just type it in, like Google?” She reached for his cock, petting him again.



He shifted position and smiled, adjusting his legs to let his erection move inside his pants. He let her play with him for the moment. “That’s the hope, but that’s far too sophisticated for what we can do at this point. We are working with search companies; some are helping us work through the theory and mechanics. It’s another ground breaking opportunity.” He shook his head as if to say there were just too many avenues to pursue.



She shook her head trying to understand how he could get so clinical after being so personal. “So what would I do?”



“Well…are you serious?”



“No, I’m just making conversation. Of course I’m serious. I’m really curious to see what would happen. The stories you’ve told are really hard to believe. Not that I don’t believe you, I do. Let’s just say I would be a much stronger believer if I could see it with my own eyes.”



“Okay…” he seemed reluctant.



She got up, letting go of his cock and leaving her clothes on the floor, leading the way to the theater. He followed, taking a stack of papers with him, his erection tenting the front of his pants.



“Why don’t you just take those off?” She giggled. “It looks terribly uncomfortable.”



Settled into the theater, the screen down, the curtains closed, he brought over the remote control and explained a little more about how to use it. He pointed out the date function, the Gaussian curve function and some others.



“We want to look at some of the least probable pasts. Since I’m dead set against ejaculating only very improbable alternatives would be the likely place to start. The date doesn’t matter so much, as long as it was one where we were having sex to begin with. Let’s set the date for the first time you asked – when I gave you the massage.”



She dialed back the date control to their first dinner together at his house, almost six months ago.



“Okay, now the Gaussian curve, like we did in the first session. Move the vertical bar from the high mark part of the curve off to one edge – those are the least likely probability vectors.” She moved the graphics around. “It’s really a hit or miss thing. Infinite is a lot, right? So we’ll see all sorts of bizarre possibilities. You’ve already seen how even slightly improbable pasts have been radically different from your expectations. But this could be even worse,” he took her hands for a moment and made her look at him, “you will see things that may disturb you…you may witness your death, or mine, or any number of other horrifically improbable events – improbable but not impossible. Earthquakes, a water glass exploding and mortally wounding one of us. Whatever your imagination can think of? There’s an infinite number of improbable pasts beyond your imagination.”



She nodded, determined to satisfy her curiosity. “Is that it, just make the probabilities low?”



“No. We can do something else to better the odds of seeing what swallowing my cum might cause. Although we don’t have full semantic coding of the capture, we do have some encoding that will better our chances. For example, if my fears are correct, you will be hooked, right? That means we are looking for pasts in which you are here, with me, a high proportion of the time.” He stopped when she giggled. “What?”



“I have no idea what you’re talking about, first of all, and second of all, it’s not like we haven’t been together almost the entire time already.”



He agreed with a smile. “If I’m right, if you swallowed my cum that night, the likelihood is that you would be with me every moment I’m in this house. Okay, to raise the probabilities, the system knows what your “signature” looks like, and mine, of course, so we’re going to eliminate those pasts where one or the other of us is absent. Let me help you with that.”



He took the control for a moment and entered a complicated formula on screen.



“I hope you’ll be okay with this,” he said, pulling her next to him, her naked back brushing his side. “This will likely be unpleasant.” She rested her hand again on his erection.



“So unpleasant it hasn’t affected your hard-on, I see.” She gave it a squeeze.



The first few attempts came up empty, so to speak. The scenes were variations on the one they had experienced together. She was beginning to wonder if it was even possible.



“There’s an infinite number of these, right? I mean, infinity is…well, infinity. We could be here a lifetime.” She was losing hope.



“I’ll fill you in on infinity sometime, but let me tune this a little and see if I can’t improve our odds.” He sat back on the couch, closed his eyes and put his fingers together. She watched his face go slack, his breathing deepened. After a minute he opened his eyes and smiled at her, taking the control. “I think I can get us close. It will be worse than I thought. Are you sure you want to go through with this?” He held his fingers over the controls waiting for her.



“Yes. So far so good. If it really upsets me, we can stop.” Knowing that watching the past had already changed the way she felt about herself now…would it be dangerous to look at a highly improbable past? Would that actually be harmful?



The scene opened as she remembered it. She was lying on the massage table, he was working her muscles. She could remember the feeling of his hands on her muscles. She nestled into him, rubbing against his skin.



He did that thing to her and she watched as her past self stiffened at the violation, and then moved with him. Over the next few minutes she couldn’t contain herself as she watched him bring her to an orgasm. She pulled his hand into her, making him stroke her, coating his fingers.



And then she sat up and she began to suck him off. She watched his face and body as his orgasm moved through him and amazingly, the shock as he realized she had forced cum from his cock. She sat up, a self-satisfied smile on her face, her tongue licking her lips, her eyes sparkling.



“I knew I could do it,” she heard herself say softly. “You taste delicious.”



He looked devastated and worried. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Marcie. I’m so sorry.”



She looked at him funny. “Is there a problem?”



“I don’t know how that happened. I haven’t ejaculated in almost 25 years. This isn’t good.” He backed away and then he reached for her, hugging her tightly.



Marcie adjusted the view to see her expression and was pleased to see her past self looked as confused as she felt watching the scene. Not a bad butt he’s got. Nice view.



“I…I don’t understand…”



“You’re welcome to spend the night if you’d like,” he seemed resigned to the situation. Happy she was there, but clearly troubled. “I would insist on it, but I know it’s short notice…” He appeared unsure of himself for the first time.



“No…I mean, I would love to, but I really should get home. What time is it?”



She used the bathroom and quickly dressed, asking him to help her find her things. Her present self noticed his penis was not erect when they left together – a detail that differed remarkably from what she still remembered from that evening.



The scene blurred and she looked at him. “It’s re-organizing – remember we asked for only instances where we’re together. You’ve left. Ah…here it comes.”



She looked up to see her approaching the house, clearly having been crying. He greeted her at the door in his robe. She looked disheveled, almost frantic. He looked concerned, but hesitated in welcoming her in.



Her excitement squelched when she saw he was in his kaftan. Shit! He’s got someone here. Shit! Shit! She avoided his eyes.



“Marcie. What a pleasant surprise!” He still didn’t invite her in and made a movement to join her outside.



What a stupid shit I am. Shit! Shit!



“What’s the matter? Are you okay? Please, come in.” He opened the door wider and motioned her in. “I hope you don’t mind, I’m not dressed for a proper visit.”



She looked at him and realized he didn’t have a hard-on. She looked at his face and saw sincere concern and joy at her being there.



“I had to come over. I’m sorry if I interrupted something. It was stupid of me. I should have called.” She didn’t move to go inside, confused about what to do.



“It’s fine. Really. I’m glad you’re here. You’ve had a little to drink? Would you like something to eat?” He urged her to come in and she finally relented, feeling too stupid to leave. “Are you feeling ill?” He paused a moment and then continued. “I’m still very concerned about what happened last night.”



“No. Nothing. I’m fine. I shouldn’t be here.” She continued to protest as he led her to the living room. The scene last night played through her head, the way he had made her cum, the way she had made him cum. The taste of his cock in her mouth, the electricity of his jism in her throat.



“I have some tea brewing. Please share a cup with me. I’m very concerned. I shouldn’t have let that happen.”



He left her in the living room with her memories and misery, returning moments later with a tray of cookies, two mugs and a pot of tea.



“I’m sorry. You have someone here and I interrupted.” She looked around but saw no evidence of anyone.



“Please stop. I’m glad you’re here. No. There’s no one else here. I was just meditating.” He poured her tea and pushed the mug toward her.



“I guess I’m a little confused,” she admitted, trying not to sound needy. Why should I be needy? “But I suppose I shouldn’t be…you’re an incredibly attractive guy, we’ve never discussed our relationship…” Shit! Damnit what am I saying?



“It’s okay. I can appreciate your confusion. Actually, I’m not surprised. I was afraid this might happen. I’ll say it one more time, though, and then you’ll forgive me if I get a little annoyed, I’m very happy you’re here.” He smiled a wide grin dispelling any sense she had imposed on him.



“I had a little to drink with some friends tonight. I happened to mention I was seeing a wonderful guy, and the more I thought about you, the more I had to see you. I’m not sure why I feel so strongly, we’ve only just met…



“What’s going on, Monty? What are we doing here?” She held his hand and looked into his eyes for any sign he might be a complete fuckwad. All she saw was the most handsome, gentlest guy she’d ever met. Her hand didn’t budge.



“Marcie. I never thought things should have gone the way they did last night. It’s too soon for me to have let you taste me. It’s…too…dangerous.” He said the last words quietly as he considered the likely outcome.



She dropped her hands to the couch. “I don’t understand anything, Monty. I thought I was giving you a gift. You said you hadn’t come in years, I thought you had a physical problem. And then, you came. It was a beautiful thing. I loved it. Your taste has stayed with me ever since. Every time I taste you, I’m reminded of how beautiful your cock is, and how much I loved it. How much I want to feel it inside me.” She looked at him, questioningly, searching his face for an answer to her confusion.



Marcie stopped the scene and turned to him. Her stomach was cramping – similar to the feeling she’d had when she first saw her submissive side. Only this was different – more…sinister. She could tell this scene was going to get very very dark and she wasn’t certain she wanted to go there.



Suddenly her stomach turned and she leapt up from the couch. She ran to the bar where she emptied the half-digested remains of her dinner. She could make out the sound of the projection stopping and then she felt his hands on her back.



“Here,” he handed her a glass of water. She couldn’t take it and motioned him to put it on the counter next to the sink.



“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. It was a feeling. I could tell something awful was about to happen…”



He rubbed her back and told her not to think about it right then. Her spasming quieted and she took a sip from the glass, spitting the foul remnants of her stomach from her mouth.



He led her back to the couch, the screen dark; they sat in silence for a few moments.



“What just happened? There wasn’t anything in that past that was particularly awful – other than my whining” She smiled a little. “Why did that just happen?”



“Remember why we are doing the therapy?” He waited until she decided it was a rhetorical question. “Our beliefs change us. I’m probably sounding like a scratched CD by now, hmmm? The therapy is an approach to changing the way you think about yourself – your belief systems. Seeing yourself immersed in a situation – ‘reliving’ a past, even if it isn’t the one you remember is a powerful agent for change. Now, consider what you were about to see. You saw how far out on the improbability curve it was, right? It might have been benign, but by your reaction we can pretty much assume it wasn’t.”



“Do you know what was going to happen?” She cuddled into him, the fabric of his shirt sliding against her breasts.



“Not specifically. I can sense it – when I concentrate I can ‘see’ possible pasts that would be in line with your desires. But beyond that I couldn’t imagine the specifics – there are an infinite number of them.”



“Marcie?!” Patti’s voice pulled her out of her memories. “Where were you?”



She shook her head and blinked. “Shit. Sorry. I got to thinking about the marriage, and then some of the ‘sessions.’ Sorry. Right. Who I told first. I think I’m okay with it. I think I’m okay with a lot of things I would have been really hung up about before…”



“Before…when?”



“Before these immersion sessions. I was just thinking about some of the times Monty and I looked back, not during the therapies themselves, just to fuck around. There were some really odd ones.”

“Perhaps another time. I see our time is up. Are we still scheduled for next week?”



Marcie nodded.



“Have you guys set a date yet? I don’t recall you mentioning it.”



They eventually had settled on a date – about five months out, putting it around the Thanksgiving holidays. The cascade of thoughts triggered during the session came back to her as she left Patti’s office.



As a girl, Marcie, like her friends at that age, had planned all sorts of weddings for herself. Bride in white, flowers, beautiful church. As she got older her tastes and focus had changed – she didn’t spend much time in churches any longer, a white wedding might be interesting, but if money were no object, what kind of wedding would she plan?



Carole was only too happy to brainstorm with her. They discussed venues – why inside a building? Why even in this city? Why not Paris – charter a flight? Their imaginations brought them to a truly white wedding – Antarctica, for example, and back again. At night, in bed, Marcie fantasized about a completely naked wedding, until she imagined what most of the guests would look like…not to mention the photographs and what she would tell the kids. Kids. She thought about kids a lot since the proposal…but she couldn’t go there at the moment.



Monty was completely unfazed by any suggestion Marcie brought to him – no matter how outlandish. As a game, Carole kept pushing the limit to see when he would balk, but he only smiled.



As she drove away, her thoughts returned to the topic of their “improbable pasts.” Monty hadn’t really considered looking at pasts far outside the 1st standard deviation on the Gaussian curve, but she had suggested they give it a try, not during one of the standard sessions, but instead of watching TV or reading the newspaper.



“What other couple do you know,” she asked him, “can use an infinite number of pasts as a form of entertainment…with themselves as the celebrities?”



He tolerated the idea, but was extremely cautious about it. “Look. The couple of times we did it had a profound impact on you…you vomited just last week if I remember correctly, right? And you really want to risk looking at the ‘long tail’ as an entertainment?”



She scoffed at his attitude, suggesting he was getting old. In spite of her needling, she agreed it was not something she would take lightly. In the end he did it.



“But how do you do it?” She asked, the first night other than a session they had cuddled together in front of the screen. “It seems like the inputs are just one factor, but every time we do this, you concentrate for a moment and then fiddle about.”



“You remember when you came back to the house the first time after learning about the gizmo? You remember I mentioned ‘Forsight?’ How gurus over the years have struggled to achieve it, but with the gizmo we might be able to shorten the time frame?



“I’m one of the lucky ones who has been able to achieve it to a limited degree. I’ve noticed the effect has strengthened in the past year or so – a result I attribute to the gizmo as much as 25 years of dedicated study. It’s one of the things I use to help isolate the scenes of interest. Kind of in reverse – I can focus my forsight on a date in the past and sift through the highly probable ones.



“It gets really tricky though, the further out from the center of the curve. I talked with some of the PhDs at my office about it and they think they have an idea why. I’ll show you. Pick a date and pick a spot on the curve far away from the center.”



She took the control and entered the date of the party he’d thrown – the time she’d first hallucinated about being dominated. He raised an eyebrow when he saw it, but didn’t say a word. She moved the red line way off to the right – as far as the display would let her.



“Okay,” he said, shuddering slightly. “Now – we are so far outside the realm of probabilities that we really are playing with Schrödinger’s cat. Out here, you have an infinite set of possibilities. For example, out here it’s possible all of the molecules in the house’s air are isolated to one corner of the living room.” He saw her reaction. “Seriously – it’s those kinds of unlikelinesses you’re trying to watch. We might be having a party with aliens. You might have won the lottery. The problem out here, is that I don’t have any good way of telling what is more or less appropriate – everything is so topsy turvy it all ‘looks’ like noise to me. In other words, forsight doesn’t do much good when the outcomes all look…impossible.”



She wasn’t sure whether he was asking her to move the needle back or was still just explaining how he could help isolate the more relevant pasts. She kept still, waiting.



“Still want to see what this roll of the dice brings up?”



She nodded.



“So, before we actually watch a past, let me show you another reason why it is so damn difficult to isolate something that might be relevant. This,” he pointed to a control off to the side, “is the fine tuning knob, if you will. Normally, no pun intended, when we’re in the center of the curve, fine tuning allows me to change minor variables for a date – most of the highly probable past remains the same, but it allows us to see variations on the theme. It’s what we used in the first few sessions to vary the results, you remember?



“But out here on the long tail, what appears to be minor variables may be the difference between alien invaders and intelligent viruses. Let me show you.” He flicked a control and a set of numbers showed up below the graph several decimal places out. She watched the 10th place number rapidly switch among several different values and the numbers out further were practically a blur they changed so frequently.



“See that? Not only is it having trouble stabilizing on a specific value, it is swinging wildly through hundreds of ‘minor’ values. If we were to just say ‘go’ and see a scene, we’d be unlikely to capture it again (without saving the setting). Out here, even one of these minor deviations represents a massively different past. Does this make any sense?”



She thought about it for a moment. “It feels a little like a system in chaos, yeah? Like in Trigonometry – as you try to get to the Tan of 90 degrees the system moves to infinity. This is like being very close to that value – any tiny change in the angle towards 90 actually swings the Tan of that angle very far away from the prior value…like that?”



He laughed. “Well, I never would have thought of it that way, but that’s as good a way of explaining it as any. It’s much different from that, but the feel of the system going into chaos is exactly right. Anyway, I’ve never spent any time out here – I’ve never seen any value in it…but I can see you are hell bent for leather, so let’s give it a shot. But.” He stopped again, his face a portrait in melodrama, “I’m going to put this into a ‘dead man switch’ mode. It is possible the past we see is so outrageous it causes our senses to essentially black out. Even though we might be ‘unconscious’ some part of us would still be ‘watching’ the past, continuing to cause damage. The thing will turn off if our finger comes off the button. It was a safeguard we put in for other reasons.”



She was getting a little nervous now, not completely understanding what could possibly harm them from a simple replay of an outrageously improbable past, but she wasn’t nervous enough to back out. “Let’s do it!” Her enthusiasm belied her uneasiness.



They watched what appeared to be a completely normal opening to the party – she arrived, the guests were in the living room milling about. The house was virtually the same as it was today, some different furniture, a wall painted a different color. As they followed her through the living room, she took a different turn in this past, heading onto the deck instead of into the kitchen. The scene unfolding in front of them was like something out of a Fellini film: set up in the back yard was a complete circus, literally. Elephants, an emu or ostrich, a cage of lions, along with all of the roustabouts, tenders, keepers, and the like. A ring with a ring master, lights, a tight rope. The whole thing. There were dozens of people watching, both from the deck and down below.



She turned to him and laughed. The feeling was one of pure childish joy – not a scent of anything ominous. “Should we try it again?”



He felt they were playing Russian Roulette, but he stopped the scene and pushed the button again – the random motion of the numbers ensuring they wouldn’t be even close to this past again.



This time when she arrived, the house was completely dark. There wasn’t a party going on at all. She knocked but no one came to answer the door. There were few cars in the street. They moved the camera into the house to see if anyone was there, but it was dead calm – as if she’d come on the wrong night. And then they heard giggling and laughter coming from his bathroom. Moving the viewpoint into the ‘grotto,’ Marcie was struck dumb by what she saw. Monty was in the shower with three gorgeous women, each servicing him in one fashion or another.



She slapped his hand forcing the scene to stop. “That was awful!” Her gut was wrenching, not so much because of the sexuality but because of the feeling of the past – it just felt completely awful and so wrong.



“Out here,” he mused, “it’s possible our own emotions and fears affect what we’ll actually see.”



She looked at him wondering if it was his emotions or hers that might have conjured up that last past. “Again,” she insisted.



He pressed the button a third time. Again, she arrived at the party, this time in full swing, but most of the guests were in costume. She had arrived with a trench coat, one which she quickly removed, to reveal she was almost completely naked – her nipples covered with tassels, her pubic area covered with a fig leaf.



She giggled at the outfit, and then giggled again when a woman entered the living room from the right wearing nothing at all except a fanned headdress of ostrich feathers.



As in the first past, this one felt playful and whimsical, not threatening. “What do you suppose is the meaning of ostriches? This was the second time it shows up…”



He couldn’t begin to decipher why these pasts were appearing over any others, but he once again suggested their own psychological state may influence what was selected. He made a mental note to suggest to Patti another possible therapeutic application.



“More?” He didn’t want to continue. Even though she was amused, he could sense a much more foreboding element to all of these pasts and he was concerned she would be hurt by them.



She yawned. As odd as they had been, it wasn’t nearly as dramatic as he had led her to believe. “Nah, I guess I’m getting tired. But you have to admit, they weren’t, for the most part, all that outlandish.”



He didn’t argue, nodding his head to the side and shutting down the projector.



* – * – * – *



It wasn’t the only time she had suggested it. It was an itch that kept coming back. She just got a kick out of seeing such strange scenes.



He acquiesced again, perhaps a week after, and again she picked a spot almost at the end of the curve, only this time to the left instead of the right.



“It’s really circular,” he confided. “The display doesn’t do it justice – but where you have it now is virtually the same as where it was the other night.”



She got it, but left it there.



She picked a random date – one she knew was after they had started dating, but not one with any significance she could think of.



She was approaching the house, the viewpoint from her perspective in the car as it arrived. She parked it in the driveway. Marcie swung the camera around to see her face. She was concentrating on something but didn’t appear to be concerned the house was dark with no one home.



She kept her keys out as she walked up to the door. The image froze.



“Are you absolutely certain you want to continue?” He held the control, his finger over the switch.



“Why? What do you think is going to happen?”



“This will be really unpleasant. I can assure you. I can’t tell you what, but I can guess – death, perhaps murder. Rape. It’s not pretty.”



“How can you be sure? Is this forsight something you expect I’ll be able to do sometime?”



His mouth was a thin line. “Probably. If you don’t cum for 25 years.” He smiled slightly at her annoyed look. “Seriously, I suspect you can already feel something about it. Just close your eyes and let the sensation of what you’re seeing…have seen…reveal itself.”



She sat back, dropping her hands to the loveseat and relaxed. Except for a slight acidy stomach she didn’t feel anything in particular. She focused on her breathing, letting the day wash away. After a few moments she felt a kind of blackness in her consciousness, by her ears. They tingled a little and then as soon as she focused on it, it stopped. It wasn’t anything like what she had felt watching her succumb to his ejaculation. She opened her eyes looking at him shaking her head. “Nothing really. A little blackness around the edges; some tingling in my ears…and oddly my nipples?”



She shook her head at his suggestion that may be all she could count on at this point. “It could have been a mosquito buzzing, my imagination. Really? Blackness around the edges, a tingling and my nipples are sensitive…and I’m supposed to know that means this scene is fatally dangerous?”



“What can I say? Imagine it wasn’t just ‘blackness around the edges’ but something so profoundly distressing it slowed your heart beat or made your leg ache or something so unpleasant it was a clear sign you had no good reason to watch it.”



“So…what do you feel? Do your legs ache?” She noticed he didn’t have a hard-on for once.



“My stomach…and no, it wasn’t the food I ate. Here. Feel this.” He took her hand and put it on his abs, pressing down.



“I love how you keep in shape – Abs of Steel.”



He wasn’t amused. “You’re making fun. This is serious. Look. I’m telling you what you’re playing with here is not just a parlor game – this is real shit you’re about to see. My stomach is tensed up not because I’ve been working out, but because it’s sending me…us…a clear signal.”



He could see she wasn’t in a mood to be convinced. He made one last attempt. “Alright, we’ll watch it for a brief moment, but again, a couple of weeks ago you threw up just because you had swallowed my cum. That was bad but it was a walk in the park compared to this one.”



“Okay, you’ve got me convinced and more than nervous. But will it actually do me harm? Will it injure me somehow?”



“Psychologically? Emotionally? Probably no more than a really bad nightmare. Is that how you want to spend the evening?”



She wondered if he had other plans. She reached her hand down to stroke him through his trousers. She thought she could a feel a little twitch. “Would saving a damsel in distress be something you’d want to do tonight?” She leaned over and kissed him, pressing her fingers into his zipper placket.



“I doubt you’ll want to have sex after watching this. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe watching mayhem and rape will turn you on. I’m ready to be surprised.”



She wrinkled her face up at the thought she might be that kinky, that this was ‘territory she’d want to explore,’ but she’d learned so much about herself watching these pasts that surprised her, anything was possible. “Let’s just do it for a few minutes and then we’ll stop. Promise.”



She kept her fingers on his crotch, pulsing through the fabric; he kept his fingers on the dead man switch and continued the scene.



She didn’t seem concerned the house was dark. It was as if she had expected it. She turned the key in the lock and opened the door, flipping a switch to light up the entry. Nothing happened. She toggled it again but still no light. She closed the door quietly and put her keys away, concern revealed by moonlight dimly reflecting off the pool outside the entry. There was just enough light from the full moon to distinguish the furniture from the flooring. She made her way carefully through the house to the kitchen, hoping to call the power company, find a flashlight or something.



She didn’t make it past the dining room.



It was darker there, in spite of the floor to ceiling glass. She bumped into the table and swore quietly, rubbing her shin. As she began to make her way again she stopped. Seated at the table was a figure, naked, with a hood over his head, his arms not visible, but she presumed tied behind his back. Perhaps she had heard a muffled sound in response to her injury; she didn’t have another moment to process it before a shadow separated itself from the darkness and two hands grabbed her by the shoulders, shoving her into a chair.



“Well. What do we have here? I thought you said she wasn’t with you anymore? Ah…Montrose, you are not a very good liar.”



She was going to scream but before she had time to even think about it a towel was shoved in her mouth and another hood was put over her head. Her attempt to shake herself loose from her assailant was useless. He was obviously much bigger than her and the element of surprise had eliminated most of her options once she entered the room.



“Now,” he continued, an obvious humor in his voice. “You’ve really given me a nice gift here, Montrose. I think I will enjoy peeling this little piece of fruit before I slice it up.”



He had her tied into the chair in moments; her squirming did nothing to slow him down. Within a minute her legs were immobilized as well.



A knife flashed in the moonlight and Marcie watched as the man, a face appeared dimly every once in a while but she didn’t recognize him, sliced her clothing off unceremoniously. There was nothing sexual about it: it was as if he were preparing a meal, removing the inedible parts to get to the juicy meat inside.



The nausea suddenly hit her but she kept it down. There was something she needed to see, something drawing her in like the proverbial flame.



“She has very nice nipples Montrose. You certainly know how to pick them, eh? I wonder how they will taste, hmmm? And you know what I’m driving at.”



He was shouting through his hood, but the sound was muffled. Her past-self was squirming ineffectually, her breasts bouncing dimly in the moonlit room.



It was as the attacker placed the edge of the knife against her breast that Marcie’s eyes rolled up into her head and she blacked out.



* – * – * – *



“Are you satisfied?”



She looked up at him, disoriented. The pain in her nipple sent an adrenaline rush through her; her hand swung up to feel for her injury only to end in surprise to feel she was completely intact. And surprised she could feel her nipple at all – she must be undressed. She tilted her head up off the pillow and saw she was lying naked in the bed, clammy and wet.



“What….?”



He brought a robe and lifted her up, coaxing her arms through the sleeves as if she were recovering from surgery.



Her stomach felt awful and the pain in her breast was very real. “What is going on?” The memory of her attacker, of the insanity going on upstairs in the dining room…she almost wretched, until she realized she didn’t have anything in her stomach.



“Oh, I think you’re done with that,” he said a little annoyed. “Let’s get some tea in you, and perhaps you can help me clean up a little.”



She had never heard him so short with her. She began to put the pieces together. “I threw up?”



“Thankfully it wasn’t an expensive dinner.”



Much later, after a couple cups of tea she looked at him sheepishly.



“Can we call it enough for now?” He asked, his hands reaching for hers across the peninsula.



She nodded. “I’m sorry. I really thought I could handle anything…I’m an idiot. Thank you.” The last added quietly to try and communicate her contrition and respect for his prior warnings. “Well, at least I learned something else tonight – mayhem and rape are not a turn-on for me and thankfully not for you either.” He returned a grim smile and nodded to the room downstairs reminding they had some cleaning up to do before going back to bed.

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