les histoires de chrislebo

I pull your head back and push it straight back into my chest giving you only a moment to catch your breath.

"Now when I ask you a question I want an answer," I pull your head back and you suck in a breath.

"Sorry Mistress," you say, you can still smell my perfume.

"Now what do you want?" You see me recline back onto the couch.

"I want to be freed." You say after a few moments, you glance over at me and see a wicked smile creep across my face. I reach over and swiftly take off the restraining chastity devise and toss it onto the coffee table.

"Better" I purr as my hand grips your cock and slowly starts stroking it. You close your eyes as the pleasure of having your cock free mixed with the feeling of my hand surges through your body, tingles rushing around every nerve ending, you think you're not going to last long. I stop.

You groan out in disappointment.

SLAP!

You only realise that I have slapped your face when you feel the red surging to your left cheek.

"What was that?" You look down.

"I groaned Mistress."

"If Mistress wants to stop, Mistress will stop," I move to the side of the couch and pick up my handbag of tricks. I move behind you and you feel your left wrist being freed from the handcuffs.

Using it like a leash I pull you by the right wrist, you stumble slightly as you realise I'm pulling you to the stairs; I drag you up to your room and push you onto the bed.

"Lie on your front and put your hands up." You lie down feeling uncomfortable as your hard cock pushes into the mattress. You feel me climb onto the bed and straddle your back, you see my hands come over and loop the handcuffs through the bars of the headboard; I pull your left wrist up and cuff it to the headboard.

You feel my hands run over your arms and down your back, suddenly my nails rake up your spine, you hiss out as I dig my nails into your shoulders.

"Now you have disappointed Mistress." You feel my weight move off of the bed, you face buried into your pillows, and you dare not look to see what I am doing. "Now you will be punished."

You hear the sound of fabric being moved around and then feel my hands run over your legs.

"Kneel up, my pet," you move your legs under you leaving your ass exposed to the air as you feel my hand run over it; you feel something cold and runny over your ass hole. You flinch.

"That's right my pet," I purr as you feel me moving up the bed between your legs.

You feel it hard against your virgin ass, the strap on is vibrating slightly and you feel it gently moving around the outside of your hole.

"Mmmm, yeah my pet. You're going to love this." You head me say as you feel me pushing the strap on into your ass, it feels so big and you fear you're being ripped open.

"Oh you like this don't you." You hear me say as I push the dildo in farther, inch by inch.

SLAP! You feel the sting on your ass.

"Don't you!"

"Yes Mistress," you call out biting down on your lip, the pain in your ass growing like a fire. You feel me pull out a little and then push back in farther than before; you feel my hips meet your ass and you know you have taken the whole length, you relax a little as I pull back. You can feel the strap on vibrating in your ass as I push back in to the hilt, it's buzzing on the right spot as you start enjoying the feeling and your cock feels harder.

"Oh you're a little cock slut, aren't you?" You feel a sharp slap on your ass again as I start fucking your hole harder, pulling back until it's almost all the way out and then slamming back into your ass. You hear me start moaning out and I fuck your ass faster, pulling out so far and slamming back in.

You feel me reach round, grab your cock and start stroking it. Each stroke matches my movements.

I'm pounding your ass now and wanking you, you feel it in the pit of your tummy and it moves down, you know you're going to cum soon as you push your head into the pillows more and mumble out.

"What my little fuck slave?" You turn your head on the pillow.

"Can I cum please Mistress?" you pant out but it's too late you start shooting your hat cum over my hand and the bed.

"Oh god!" You call out as I keep fucking your tight ass and waking your cock.

You feel my hand move to the side of your ass and grip it tight as I fuck your ass hard and fast, the vibrating of the strap on making your cock stay hard, you feel me speed up and moan out, pushing into you so hard you collapse onto the bed and puddle of cum.

You feel my body on top of you and my breath on the back of your neck, the strap on still in your ass.

"Lick my hand clean!" I push my hand into your face and you start licking at it, tasting your own cum.

You feel relief as I move up and pull the strap on out of your ass.

I quickly unlock the cuffs and move off of the bed.

"Go clean up," You get up off of the bed and take a swift look at the size of the strap on I'm wearing, it's a good 6 inches, you wonder to yourself just how you took it all.

You shuffle over to the door way, heading to the bathroom; you look over to me and see me smile.

"Oh and when you come back, clean the bed. Mistress will not relax in a dirty bed."

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Command and Control

I was jolted awake by the bump of the plane as the wheels hit the runway. My mind was foggy for just a few seconds, trying to remember where I was. Looking out the window of the plane provided no clue; it could have been almost any small city airport anywhere in the country. Then my mind kicked in enough for me to remember, "Oh yes, Kansas City."

I had begun my day with the clock radio going off at 4:30 in the morning in order to give me enough time to shower, shave, throw on some clothes, and make the short ride to the airport to catch my flight. I was off to yet another meeting, and I struggled to remember why it was being held in Kansas City. For the life of me I couldn't think of a reamister, other than it's pretty much smack dab in the middle of the country and a not unreamisterable location for the participants arriving from the west coast, the south, and like me, from the east.

The meeting was of an advisory board of a research project on which I served. There were too many of these over the course of the year, but one of my (many) weaknesses in life is an inability to say "no" to friends when they ask for a favor. Having been a professor for approximately two decades, I had developed enough of a reputation across the country that my services, knowledge, and advice were often enough sought out for events like this, as well as to share that knowledge at conferences and other venues. I tried to keep my ego in check, and not come across as one of those obnoxious professors whose head was somewhat larger than the basketball arena at my campus. I think I usually succeeded, though on an occasion or two I would find myself slipping into prima donna mode.

When Robert Roberts (yes, that was his real name -- I often thought what kind of parents would do that to their kid?) asked me to serve on this advisory board, I agreed, figuring it would not be so onerous, one meeting a year for the three year life of the project along with an occasional conference call, reading of progress reports, and the like. Robert -- jokingly called "Bobby Bob" by his friends -- had often responded to my calls for assistance, so I felt like I owed him this one. But now sitting on an airplane taxiing to the gate at 9:30 in the morning, I of course regretted my acquiescence. But having known Bobby since graduate school, where we were in the same cohort, I knew I'd do exactly the same thing the next time he called.

As the chime went on and the seat belt light went off, I rose with a sigh, grabbed my backpack from the floor, suitcase from the overhead compartment (which true to the warning of the flight attendant, had slid about three rows ahead upon landing), and trudged off of the plane. I made my way to ground transportation and grabbed a cab, telling the driver, "Hyatt Regency downtown, please." The driver nodded his assent, and without another word between the two of us, drove me to the hotel.

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The first day of the advisory board meeting concluded right on time at 5:30p, just about as my attention span was at its nadir. The ten of us -- made up of Bobby, three of the researchers on his project team, and the six advisory board members -- climbed into three taxis and headed to the trendy French bistro for dinner. Well, "trendy," I guess, by Kansas City standards. This was a typical part of these sojourns. Most projects could never pay the advisory board members enough of an honorarium for the amount of time and inconvenience to which we were subjected, so they tried to make up for it by treating us as nicely as possible when we met.

I had braced myself to be taken to a steakhouse, befitting of the city's reputation as the land of the cow, so was pleasantly surprised by the restaurant choice. The food was actually quite good, I'm sure among the best meals you could get in Kansas City that did not revolve around a hunk of meat approximately a pound and a half or so in weight.

I was seated at dinner next to Noreen Taylor, a colleague who had known for some number of years. We were not friends, by any means, but knew each other well enough to be on a first-name basis, largely from seeing each other at professional events around the country. She was about my age, having also started her career two decades ago. We made pleasant chitchat during dinner, getting caught up on professional gossip, who was changing jobs, who was getting promoted, who had been embroiled in some scandal (relaxing with a student, cheating on expense vouchers, and the like) at their universities. The conversation was pleasant enough, though toward the end of the dinner the fatigue really began to hit, no doubt abetted by the three glasses of Bordeaux that had accompanied my French meal.

Noreen and I were in the same taxi going back to the Hyatt, and as we entered the lobby, she asked if I would like to join her for a take in the hotel's bar. I tried to beg off, explaining the early start to my journey that morning, but she was insistent.

"Listen, Bob -- I really want to talk to you about something," she said. "I need some advice, and I know you can help me."

Even though I was tired, and wanted nothing more than to return to my room, get my clothes off, and get into bed to read a bit of my book before I went to relax, I reluctantly agreed. I followed her into the bar of the Hyatt, where we sat at a table in the corner.

We each ordered a glass of wine, she switching to a white and I sticking with the Bordeaux on which I had started at the restaurant. Noreen began outlining her situation to me, involving a difficult graduate student with whom she was working. I listened, and asked a few questions, to which she filled in more information.

After the glasses of wine arrived, Noreen took a sip of hers and said, "Would you do me a favor, Bob, and go up to the bar and ask them if they have any pretzels or nuts or anything. I like to have a little nibble with my wine." I was well sated from the rich French food, and had no desire for anything else to eat, but said to her, "Sure."

I went up to the bar and asked the bartender for some snacks, and he returned in a minute or two with a bowl of some kind of Chex mix. I carried it back to the table, and Noreen smiled as I sat it down and said, "Thanks, Bob."

We continued our conversation, and I gave Noreen advice on how to handle the student. She seemed genuinely appreciative, and after finishing our glasses of wine, she signaled the waitress for the bill. When it came, I went to reach for it, but Noreen grabbed it before I could, saying, "Please Bob, let me -- I really appreciate your advice, so the least I can do is buy you a glass of wine."

"Thanks, Noreen," I replied, and we both rose and headed for the elevators. But as I stood up, I felt incredibly dizzy, and immediately plopped myself down in the seat again.

Noreen turned back, seeing me sitting there, and said with a note of concern in her voice, "Are you okay?"

I laughed it off. "Yeah, I think it's just the fatigue from being up so early, along with all the wine. I'm sure I'll be fine." I rose more slowly this time, and as I did, Noreen gently placed her hand on my arm to ease me. I still was dizzy, but felt like I could walk without falling flat on my face if I took it slowly. As we walked out of the bar, Noreen continue to hold onto my arm. "Thanks," I said to her quietly.

We got into the elevator, and she asked what floor I was on. "Five," I replied, and she said she was on the same. As we arrived on the fifth floor, I felt a bit dizzier, and hesitated as we got off the elevator. She turned to me with a look of concern on her face. "You going to make it?"

"I'm not sure, but let me just get to my room and I'm sure once I lie down I'll be okay," I said. We continued to walk with her holding my arm and me now leaning on her just a bit more, as the walls of the hotel corridor seemed to be moving in and out on me. We arrived at my door, and while I was able to get the keycard out of my pocket, I was so woozy that I couldn't get it in the slot. Still holding on to me, Noreen took it out of my hand with her other, and slipped it in and out of the door.

She reached past me, turned the handle to open the door, and guided me into the room. I held on to the wall with my free hand, and managed to make it to the bed, where I fell backward on to it. As the room continued to spin, I felt somebody at my feet, and realized it was Noreen taking my shoes off. She must have then walked to the top of the bed, because I heard her voice very near to my head. "Bob, look at me," she said. I opened my eyes, and saw that her face was just a few inches from mine, and she was saying, "Keep looking at me Bob."

I did my best to focus on her face, but everything was still spinning. She was talking to me, but I couldn't understand the words. And the next thing I knew, everything went black.

========================

I opened my eyes very slowly, afraid that everything would still be spinning. But as they came fully open, I saw that everything seemed to be in its place, no longer moving like I was on the Tilt-a-Whirl at the county fair. I sat up in bed, and looked down and saw that I was lying on top of the covers, all my clothes on but my shoes removed. I looked over at the window, and could see light peeking through the crack of the blinds, and I realized it must have been morning. I turned the other way, and the clock told me it was 7:00AM.

I shook the cobwebs out of my head, trying to remember what occurred last night. After a few moments I recalled what had happened, the take and conversation with Noreen, the dizziness, her walking me back to my room. But nothing else.

I swung my feet to the side of the bed, placing them on the ground, and gingerly stood up. Everything seemed to be working, and with the exception of a slight headache, I didn't seem to have any lingering effects of the last evening's malady. I stripped off my clothes, took a couple of Tylenol, and jumped into the shower. The shower and a shave made me feel much better and more human, and the Tylenol seemed to have kicked in by the time I walked out of the bathroom.

I got dressed in the casual clothes that the meeting allowed, and went downstairs to join the others for the meeting. I knew there was going to be coffee and some pastries and fruit set out at the beginning, so there was no need to grab breakfast beforehand.

As I entered the meeting room, the first permister I saw was Noreen. She immediately came over to me, and I noticed a look of concern on her face.

"Are you okay, Bob? You really seemed out of it last night -- I was worried about you," she said.

"Yeah, I think so Noreen," I replied. "I really don't remember much about what happened, but when I got up this morning everything seems to be working okay." I smiled at her in confirmation.

"Good, glad to hear it," she smiled back at me. We sat down next to each other, and made small talk while we ate our breakfasts.

The meeting started shortly after, and I managed to stay focused. I kept waiting for the room to start spinning, or something like that to happen, but I seemed none the worse for the wear of whatever it was that happened to me the night before.

The meeting wrapped up around 5:00, and a few people who were heading to the west coast and could catch flights left. The rest of us who could not get flights out until tomorrow morning walked through the lobby to the hotel restaurant for dinner.

The meal in the hotel was not nearly as good as the last night's, but that was okay since we had been treated so nicely the prior night. I was cautious with what I drank, limiting myself to a single glass of wine, just in case I had any lingering effects of whatever happened to me the last night. After dessert, I said good night to the others and headed for the elevator. Noreen caught up to me, saying, "I'll ride up with you."

The doors opened up, and we got in, Noreen reaching to push the button. As she reached past me to push the button, I got a very subtle whiff of her perfume. It smelled like lavender. I reached to push the button for my floor, but she said, "We're on the same floor, remember?"

I didn't remember that from last night at all. "No, guess I forgot," I chuckled. The elevator ascended, and we got out on the fifth floor. We started walking down the hall together, and as I approached my room, I said, "Well, good night, Noreen, great to get caught up with you." We had already discussed that I had a much earlier flight than she did in the morning, so I knew I wouldn't see her.

She replied, "Before you go, Bob, I have a paper I'd like to give to you to take a look at. It's by one of my grad students, and I think you could give her some good feedback on it as I believe it's right up your alley. No rush -- if you can get to it in the next month or so, I know she'd really appreciate your comments."

"Sure," I replied.

"Great -- it's right down here in my room, c'mon down and I'll give it to you." She began walking further down the hall and I followed. She stopped in front of a door, took her keycard from her purse, and opened it. "C'mon in, it'll just take a second to find it in my briefcase."

I followed her into the room, and stood waiting while she rifled through her briefcase. She pulled a paper out a few seconds later and handed it to me. "Sit down for a minute, and just read the abstract to make sure it is an area of research you're familiar with."

She lifted her coat off of the chair, and I sat down. She stood next to me and turned on the floor lamp, and as she did, I again recognized the scent of lavender on her. I flipped over the cover page, which contained the paper title and the student's name, and began reading the page-long abstract. As I did so, I was conscious of Noreen standing in front of me, very close, watching me as I read.

I finished the abstract, and looked up to tell her it was on a topic on which I was currently working. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, she looked down at me and said, "Noreen Taylor."

I blinked for a second, not understanding why she was saying her own name to me. I began to question her, but I couldn't seem to find the right words. I just stood there, looking up at her. She leaned down toward me so that her face was only a few inches or so from mine, and she reached out and put a finger under my chin. Staring into my eyes, she again repeated her name: "Noreen Taylor."

Now I just stared at her, unable to question what she was doing. She continued staring back at me, and after a few seconds, she said, "Stand up, Bob," as she leaned back and moved aside. I stood up in front of the chair, next to her. She reached out and took the paper from my hand, and placed it down on the bed next to her. "Stand over there," she said, pointing to a spot a few feet away.

Again, I wanted to ask her what was going on, but my brain simply wouldn't form the words. As if driven by some subconscious power, I did as she told, and stood in the spot. She took my position in the chair I had been sitting in, kicking off her shoes, but before she sat down, she took the hem of her dress, and hiked it up. She wore no pantyhose, so that when she sat down I could see all of her bare legs up to her light purple panties, which were clearly visible between her spread legs. After I glanced at her crotch, I looked up into her eyes, and saw that she was staring right at me.

"Get down on your knees and crawl over here."

I hesitated for just a split second, but again bidden by some unseen power, I did as she told. I got down on my knees, and knee-walked my way the few feet over to her until I was just a foot in front of her, kneeling between her spread legs. She continued staring into my eyes, and much as I wanted to look at her crotch again, I couldn't take my eyes from hers.

"Start licking," she said, as she pointed down toward her panties.

By this point, I had no hesitation left in me at all, and I knew exactly what she meant by her command. I put my arms on the arms of the chair, on either side of her legs, and leaned forward. The scent of her arousal flooded my nostrils as I got close. As I did so, she lifted her ass off the chair just slightly, enough to be able to hike up her dress even further, giving me ready access to her underwear-laden crotch. I lightly touched my tongue to her panties, and as I did, I realized they were already wet, confirming what my sense of smell had just told me.

I began licking more, as she settled back in the chair, pushing her crotch further toward my face. The combination of her arousal and my saliva began to sodden her panties, until the purple became darker and almost transparent they were so wet. I continued stroking with my tongue, up and down, first concentrating on the middle, but then moving out to the sides a bit, toward the lace edging around the leg holes. I could feel through the panties that she had a good bit of hair there, she was clearly not one of those women who trimmed or shaved her pubic hair.

I was only partially conscious of what was happening. I knew I was there in this hotel room, licking someone whom only a few minutes ago I had been in a professional meeting with. I had a sense in the back of my mind that I was doing something wrong. I was single, so it was not as if I was cheating on someone, but it was the lack of control and consent that was gnawing at me. But I was powerless to do anything but to continue to lick at her increasingly wet panties.

After no more than a minute or two of this, I felt her hands on either side of my head, pulling it back from her pussy. "Sit back," she commanded. I rocked back on my knees as she lifted her ass off the chair again, and pushed her panties down her legs. She lifted each foot, one at a time, and removed the panties from each. As she sat back down, I saw that my initial impression was correct -- she had very full and bushy hair, which was now glistening with her juices that had been flowing onto her panties as well. She put a finger under my chin, lifting my head back up to look into her eyes. "Get back to work," she said, without a trace of a smile on her face.

For just a split second, the correct synapses seemed to fire in my brain, telling me to stop what I was doing and get out of there. But just as quickly as they started, they failed, eliminating any opportunity I had to remove myself from the incredible situation in which I had found myself.

I leaned forward again, and continued what I had started before, now facing her sex unburdened by panties. As I did so, she flipped her loose dress over my head, enveloping me in near darkness. This had the effect of magnifying and concentrating the scent of her arousal, and it was so strong it almost made me gag. I hesitated, but she grabbed the back of my head with one hand and pulled it toward her. I heard a "Get to it," muffled by her dress around my head.

I was now able to touch my tongue to her outer labia, and as I ran it up and down each one, I felt them open up, like the petals of a flower. Each seemed to grow as it became even more engorged with red. As they grew and opened up, they revealed the smaller, more delicate inner labia, on which I quickly focused my attention. After tonguing each, I gently pulled on each one with my own lips, and I felt them swell under my ministrations. As I did this, I could feel her juices begin flowing even more generously.

I began to hear some gentle moans emanating from Noreen's lips, obviously loud enough that I could hear them through the muffle of her dress over my head. All my senses now confirmed for me the state of arousal in she found herself. I leaned forward again, and began to push my tongue into her sex itself. It felt for a second almost like my tongue found itself in a glass of a thick, viscous liquid, as her juices continued to pool. I felt them dripping onto my lips and down my chin as I sought to push my tongue even deeper into her sex and move it around. As I did this, she moaned even more loudly. I stroked my tongue up and down, from the bottom of her sex, touching on the perineum, up to the hood of her clitoris. I couldn't see what I was doing in the darkness, but my tongue need no guide other than its sensory capabilities. As I once brushed against her button with my tongue, she reached under her dress and grabbed on to my hair and yanked my head back from under the dress, saying through clenched teeth, "Not yet." The sharp pain rattled around my head, and it was all I could do to stifle a yelp.

She removed her hand from my hair, and pushed on my forehead, sending me back on my haunches once again. I was temporarily blinded by the light of her hotel room as I came out from under her dress. I sat back, taking a deep breath, still smelling her scent all over my chin, nose, and lips. I could see that her juices had been flowing so fully that they had created a quite prominent wet spot on the chair beneath her.

She got up from the chair, right in front of me, and I thought perhaps my ordeal was over. Deep in my brain I knew what was happening was wrong -- my sense of offense at being somehow powerd to service her this way, without consenting to what I was doing, was quite strong. I willed myself to rise from my knees, but I was unable.

Noreen must have sensed the turmoil coursing through my brain, because she looked down at me, smiling. "Don't bother Bob -- you can't control yourself, you have no choice but to do as I tell you."

I tried to formulate a question in response, to ask her why, what was going on, what was happening to me -- but the words could not travel from my brain to be formed by my lips. I stuttered a few odd sounds, trying to form sentences, but nothing intelligible came out. Noreen laughed now. "Bet you never felt so inarticulate before, have you professor?"

I was unable to reply, but simply watched as she now mounted the chair on her knees, and settled her chest over the back of the upholstered and padded chair. I was presented with her rear, covered by her dress, directly in front of me. She made herself comfortable on the chair, and took one hand and yanked the dress up over her rear, exposing the silky whiteness of it to me. She spread her legs, which had the effect of exposing her quite hairy and engorged outer labia to me. She then looked back over her shoulder, stared in my eyes for a few seconds, and said, "Continue what you started before, Bob."

Unable to stop myself, I leaned forward, and began running my lips over her labia, now from the rear instead of the front. They were quite wet from this position also, and I had to bend down quite a bit to find an angle of attack that would give my tongue good access to them. I licked one, and then the other, and after a couple of minutes of this, I felt her shift her knees even further apart. This now provided an opening for my tongue to reach her sex, and with a bit of repositioning, I was able to get it in there. The only way to do this was to be almost below her, pushing my tongue upwards. As I did so, her juices flowed all over my face, so abundant that they ran down my chin and on to my shirt.

After a few more minutes, I heard her say, "Now -- tongue my clit." It wasn't easy, but with a bit more shifting downward and forward, I was able to get my tongue on to her clitoris. I rolled it around, pushing the hood backward, and as I did so I heard her moan even further. I continued my efforts, and felt her body start to heave above me. As I continued this for another minute or so, I heard faster and louder noises coming from her. "Ahhh. . . . .arrggghh. . . .that's right, that's it. . . .ooooohhhhh" and her body then shook, as if wracked by some external power.

Even if I had wanted to, I would not have been able to maintain contact between my tongue and her clitoris as her body quaked. I pushed back on my haunches, her juices still dripping down my face, and simply watched as her movements finally slowed down, and she breathed heavily over the back of the chair. I saw her juices streaked down the inside of her thighs, again creating two small wet spots by the inside of her knees on the chair.

After about a minute, she turned around, and plopped herself heavily into the chair facing me. She was still trying to get her breathing under control, and finally, was able to enough to say with a wry smile on her face, "Well done, Bob. You follow directions quite excellently."

I heard her words, and my brain told me that I should be responding in some way, but I couldn't find the words. I simply sat there with what I assume was a stupid look on my face.

"That's okay, professor, I know you really can't talk in your current state. Let me help you out." She leaned forward, so that our faces were on the same level and hers was only a few inches from mine. She put out her hand, and placed a finger under my chin, and for the third time, said, "Noreen Taylor."

Hearing those words, my mind reacted as if it had received a shot of adrenaline after being in a dream for some period. I blinked a few times, and for what seemed like the first time in a while, I could feel the red flowing through my veins again. I continued to kneel there for a few seconds wondering where I was and what was going on. But very quickly the memory of what had transpired over the last 30 minutes or so came back to me, and my entire body shook sorry. I stood up, and looked down at her, seeing her face flush, her dress askew, and her bare legs exposed to me from mid-calf down to her feet. As I glanced up at her face, she was smiling at me.

"I bet you're wondering what happened, aren't you, professor?" she asked.

I was now conscious enough to be able to respond. I knew something was definitely wrong, but still couldn't quite comprehend what it was. "What the hell's going on here, Noreen?"

She just laughed, as she got up from the chair and walked past me to the bathroom. I turned and watched, as I could see her through the doorway running a washcloth under the tap and then using it to wipe down her face. She came out again, holding the washcloth, and as she came within a few feet of me, she tossed it to me. "Here, you may want this," she said, still with the same sly grin on her face.

I started to throw it back at her, but I felt the stickiness on my own face, and I quickly wiped it off with the cloth, and dropped it on the bed. "I asked you a question -- what just happened here?" I repeated, more angrily this time.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, avoiding sitting on the washcloth I had just tossed there. She looked at me intently. "Do you remember what happened when I applied for that job at Virginia, Bob?"

Still angry, I began to respond. "What the hell are you talking about, Noreen? I don't know. . . ." but then I stopped myself. Because then I remembered exactly what she was talking about.

About five years ago, Noreen had applied for a job at the U. of Virginia, a position that would have been quite a prestigious plum for her. It was an endowed chair, and a step up from the position she held at the time - the position she was still in today - in a program that most would charitably describe as "second rate." Noreen had been one of the three candidates interviewed, and she had evidently made quite a good impression on the search committee.

"So you do remember, don't you Bob?" Noreen's voice woke me from my memories. She must have seen the pensive look on my face as I recalled what had occurred.

Thinking quickly, I tried to play dumb. "Well, I remember hearing that you had interviewed for the chair there, yes," I said cautiously.

"But that's not all you remember, is it?'

A bit flustered, I stammered, "Well, I don't remember all the details, Noreen."

"Think hard, Bob," she replied, "and I'm sure it will come back to you. You don't recall the conversation you had with your buddy Dave Edwards?"

Dave Edwards was the chair of the search committee, and like Robert Roberts, a good friend of mine from graduate school. I received a call from him after the three candidates had had their campus visits. He told me they were leaning toward offering the job to Noreen, and asked me what I thought, because he knew that I was familiar with her work.

As Noreen now stared at me, I recalled the conversation Dave and I had. I couldn't remember all the details of what I told him, but the gist of it was that I had bad-mouthed Noreen as not having the talent, or more precisely, "the balls," to deserve an endowed chair. While she did some good work, I told him, she really wasn't deserving of the chair and they ought to offer it to one of the two men who had interviewed for the job. I knew that for whatever reamister, they did end up offering the job to one of the men, who accepted the offer and still held the chair to this day.

But the thing I couldn't figure out is how Noreen could have found out what I had said to Dave. I knew he would never betray my confidence, so how the hell did she know about the conversation?

Once again, Noreen's voice interrupted my thoughts. "You know, Bob, you should have learned not to have such a big mouth. It was one thing to trash me to Dave, but the really, really stupid thing you did was to brag about it to others. You just had to show them what a big shot you were by telling them that your word was enough to throw the job to someone else, didn't you?"

And then I remembered. I was at a conference about six months after Virginia had made their hire, sitting at the bar gossiping with a few colleagues. I had had a few takes, and had bragged about how I had managed to throw the Virginia chair to the guy who had ultimately received the offer. I didn't know them well, and evidently, one of them must have retold the story, and it had somehow gotten back to Noreen.

"Look, Noreen, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, but Dave asked my honest. . . "

"Shut up, Bob," Noreen quickly cut me off. "I don't want to hear your pitiful excuses. The bottom line is you convinced them to yank away what would have otherwise been mine, and I've been pissed about it ever since."

I started to talk again, but before I could say anything she put her hand up to stop me. "Don't say anything until I tell you to, Bob. Just listen."

I simply nodded my assent.

"Now you're probably wondering what happened to you tonight. You remember last night how you were feeling ill when you came back to your room?" I nodded. "Well, I had slipped a 'mickey' in your wine, as they say in the movies, when you got up to get me that Chex mix." And at this she chuckled a bit, then continued. "When you got up to your room, you don't remember it, but before you ****** I magictized you, Bob."

At this I was incredulous. "I don't believe you, Noreen -- I've never been magictized in my life and I don't believe you could do that," I spurted back at her.

"No, Bob -- you don't think so?" she replied. "Then what do you think happened in here tonight?"

I just stared at her, not sure how to reply. "I don't know," I said in a soft voice.

"Then I'll tell you. I magictized you, Bob, and I made you susceptible to what I'll call 'suggestions' from anyone who knows the code words to put you under."

I was still incredulous, not believing she could do that to me, and that I could respond to it. But I could not come up with any other explanation for what had happened to me in her hotel room tonight. I was still foggy on the details of what had happened, but I had enough vague memories -- almost as if recalling a dream after waking up the next morning -- and the physical evidence all over my face, to fill in the blanks for me.

"That's right, professor. Anyone who knows the code words to put you under will be able to get you to do things you wouldn't otherwise do."

"Wait a minute, Noreen," I replied to her. "I don't know a lot about magicsis, but I know that people can't be made to do things against their will."

"You're partially right, Bob. People can't be induced to do something under magicsis that they feel would put them at some risk of life or limb, or to hurt others. But they can be powerd to do something that they don't consider harmful, that in other circumstances they would be willing to do."

I thought about this for a moment, as Noreen laughed and continued. "And obviously you don't consider it harmful to be used for oral servitude by a woman, now do you Bob?"

At this I blushed profusely, and tried to stammer a reply. "Now look, Noreen. . ."

She cut me off. "Don't bother, Bob. I've done it, and I'm the only one who can reverse it. Anyone who knows the code can humiliate you anyway they want, as long as you don't feel you'll be permanently harmed by the action. And believe you me, I'm going to make sure that this power gets used judiciously."

I eyed her suspiciously, not sure exactly what she meant by this. I tried going on the offensive. "I could go to the police with this you know, Noreen."

"And tell them what, Bob? You don't have any proof and you'd probably sound like a blathering idiot if you try to tell them that story. What are you going to do, show them my dried cum on your chin?" With this she gave a hearty laugh. "No, Bob, you don't have much recourse here."

"Then what is it you want from me, Noreen?"

"What do you think I want, Bob? You can't get me that chair, it should have been mine, but it's too late for that. And I've waited this long for the opportunity that presented itself to me at this meeting. So I've already gotten what I want from you, Bob. Revenge, plain and simple. I've exacted my revenge, and I'll be able to continue to do that for some time into the future."

I stepped forward, angrily approaching her. "Then I'll just avoid you, Noreen -- I can arrange things so I never have to look at your damn face again," I shouted at her.

"Keep your voice down, Bob," she said calmly. "We wouldn't want to bother people in the adjoining rooms now, would we?"

I stepped back again to where I had stood.

"Remember, Bob, it's not just me you have to watch out for. It's anybody who knows the code words."

"And what are those?" I asked.

She chuckled again. "Oh no, Bob, that would be too easy now, wouldn't it? I'm getting tired, my little oral slave, so now do me a big favor and run along, would you? I really need to get cleaned up a bit more before bed." She flashed me a big smile, and stood from where she had been sitting on the bed. She put a hand on my shoulder, turning me around toward the door and then gave my back a little shove.

I was flabbergasted at what had just transpired, but didn't know what else to do. She clearly had me, and she was right that I had little recourse. I walked toward the door, and as I opened it, I glanced back at her. She gave me a little wave and another smile as I walked through it and closed it behind me.

It had been about ten days since I had attended the meeting in Kansas City and had my run-in with Noreen Taylor. At first after I returned home I was obsessed with how she had magictized me. I went on the Internet and read everything I could about magicsis, not knowing anything about it. There was little there to help me, especially about how one could break a magictic spell if you didn't know the code words.

At first, I awoke every day worried that I'd somehow be put into a spell by someone inadvertently saying the code words. But after a week, I realized that this was very unlikely, as she would not have used a common enough phrase to cause that to happen. I also read everything I could about Noreen and her career, to try to understand more about why she had done this. I understood she was royally pissed about my screwing up her chance at the endowed chair at the University of Virginia, as that seemed to be the brass ring that she had missed out on and had not had a similar opportunity since.

I was careful not to do this surfing at the office, as I knew that the IT department sometimes did spot checks of the websites employees visited, to ensure that nobody was using state equipment for untoward purposes. So I worked a lot at home, using my computer there, and avoided the office other than when I need to be there for class or meetings. While none of the websites were ones that would get me in trouble, I didn't want to take the chance of raising any suspicions.

I was walking down the hall one of the few mornings I was in the office, when I was stopped by one of my colleagues with a shout of "Hey, Bob" from his office. I stopped, backtracked a few feet, and poked my head in.

"Hi, Jerry, what's up?" I asked, standing in his doorway.

"Will you do me a favor," he replied, getting up from behind his desk and handing me a stack of papers clipped together. "This is a CV and paper from one of the applicants in the search."

I took the papers from his hand and glanced at them. We had a search open for a new assistant professor in the department, and while I was not on the search committee, my colleagues who were would often run the applications by me. As I started to read down the CV, Jerry said, "He's a student of Noreen Taylor's."

At hearing her name, my mind sputtered for a second, almost like an engine misfiring a cylinder. A tingling sensation went up and down my body, and I had to concentrate to hold on to the papers and not drop them.

"What," I said, not knowing what else to say, and trying to get my concentration back.

"Yeah," Jerry replied, "he's finishing up this year, and I think he has a pretty good CV, but I wanted to get your reading on it."

I listened to Jerry's words, and fought hard to regain my mental acuity. After a few moments, I seemed to be getting a grip on what was happening, though was still a bit unsure of myself, and the tingling sensation left my body.

"Oh, okay," I said, not knowing what else to do at that stage. "I'll take a look and let you know what I think." I turned and started walking back to my office, before Jerry tried to engage me in any further conversation and possibly expose my momentary lack of mental sharpness.

"Thanks," I heard Jerry yell from his office as I was already five feet or so down the hallway.

I continued down the hall and into my office, closing the door behind me. "What the fuck just happened?" I thought to myself, as I placed the papers down on my desk. I knew that hearing Noreen's name must have triggered something in me, or was it an incredible coincidence that that feeling had hit at exactly the precise moment Jerry had said her name. I chalked it up to just a reaction to hearing her name and subconsciously flashing back to what had happened in that hotel room in Kansas City.

I picked up the papers again, and tried to read through them, but couldn't concentrate on the words that were written there. I threw them down in disgust, and picked up some student papers to grade, but had the same problem at first. I put them back, and went to my computer and started surfing the web aimlessly. After about an hour of that, I finally gave up, and seeing that it was already 4:00pm, I grabbed my backpack and headed home.

I made myself some dinner, watched a baseball game on TV, and went to bed. At first, I tossed and turned, trying to figure out what had happened to me, but I still didn't understand it. After a while, I finally fell arelax, but slept very fitfully.

The next morning I woke up, showered and shaved, and felt much better. I was still bothered by what transpired the day before, but I headed into the office and tried to shake it off. When I got there, I picked up the pack of papers Jerry gave me the day before, and started reading them. I was somewhat pleasantly surprised that I could now concentrate, and I finished reading the CV and article, and fired off an email to Jerry with my impressions. After hitting the "send" button, I sat back in my chair with a satisfied smile, and thought to myself, "Glad that's behind me."

================================================

On the way home from work later that day, I stopped at a supermarket to pick up some food. I don't like food shopping, so generally try to do it just once a week. Being divorced with no kids, shopping wasn't a complicated task, but I just felt like it was a waste of time. If I lived in a city that had one of those shopping delivery services, I would most certainly have utilized it and shopped on-line. But being in a relatively small college town, that wasn't available.

I had been divorced for about ten years, and never remarried. I had had a succession of girlfriends – or "lovers," if that was the more politically-correct term – in the ensuring decade, but never one that I was very serious about. I was somewhat jaded by the end of the marriage – there had been a number of fights between my ex-wife and me at the end, with her accusing me on multiple of occasions of being a "sexist pig" and my throwing out the word "bitch" at her. Suffice it to say that neither of us was sad to be done with the other by the time we signed our divorce papers.

The shopping took much longer than usual because I was at a market that I was not familiar with. I usually shopped at one that was closer to my home but a few miles in the other direction from campus. This one was on my route home, though, so I decided to stop in.

As I finished my shopping, I scanned the checkout lines. Unlike most people who would automatically search for the one with the shortest line, I instead looked at the clerks behind the cash registers. I was keeping an eye out for a cute one, preferably one dressed in a tight or low-cut – or even better, both – blouse that would provide a little eye candy for a few minutes.

Since my divorce, and even before, I was very cautious about not getting involved in relationships with anyone in my department, including the graduate students. It was easy to avoid relationships with the other professors; most of the women were either highly unattractive to me, or had permisteralities that would send me running at the thought of having to spend an evening with them, never mind being in a relationship with them.

I avoided the graduate students also. Even though I had colleagues, including some in my own department, who had had relationships with students, it always seemed to end poorly with accusations of sexual harassment on the part of the professor. While my few colleagues who had crossed this line had all managed to survive the scandal, it always created quite a mess and I never wished to put myself in that position.

Having made the decision to avoid any office romances, however, I never hesitated to visually check out women, even on campus. I was always discreet enough to avoid getting a reputation as one of "those" professors who the female students talked about, the one who was always making eye contact with their nipples rather than their eyes. But I did enjoy looking at women's bodies when I could grab a glance, and occasionally fantasizing about what sex with them would be like.

I spotted an aisle with a cute young woman in it, and as luck would have it, there was only one permister ahead of me in line, and he was just finishing putting his groceries on the belt. "My lucky day," I thought, as I pulled into the aisle and looked at the tight t-shirt on the woman, which clearly was thrown on without thought of a bra underneath as she got ready for her work, as her nipples were clearly apparent. "Bonus time," I chuckled to myself.

As the customer in front of me finished up, I took the last of my groceries from my cart, put them on the belt, and smiled and said hello to the clerk. She gave me a big toothy smile back, saying "Hello, how are you today, sir?"

I smiled again, and looking at the nametag that was prominently displayed on her left breast said, "Just great, thanks. And how are you, Ashley?"

She said, "Doing okay, wish I wasn't working, but my shift is almost over."

"Good for you," I said, as she dragged my items across the scanner. "Damn," I thought, I should have bought more so I could stand here even longer.

Just as I thought this, I glanced over at the aisle next to me, and saw standing there Elizabeth Carmichael, one of my colleagues in the department. Elizabeth (never "Liz," or "Betsy," or "Lizzie" – always "Elizabeth") and I often did not see eye-to-eye on things. We had joined the department around the same time, and had had conflicts with each other right from the get-go. I suspected that one of my issues with her was that she reminded me too much of my ex-wife; not in looks, but in permisterality. While my ex-wife was thin and tall, only a few inches shorter than my six feet, Elizabeth was just a shade over five feet tall, and carried probably an extra 40 or 50 pounds on her. She was not an unattractive woman, as she had what could objectively be described as a pretty face, but she was quite plump. Even with her plumpness, though, I had noticed that she still liked to dress in tight clothes that accentuated her large breasts and generous ass. Today she had on what looked like a workout uniform, with fairly tight Spandex pants and a V-neck t-shirt that showed off her ample cleavage.

But as different as Elizabeth and my ex-wife were in looks, they were similar in permisteralities – strong women who had little patience for men who were sexist and perceived as not being supportive of women. While I was careful not to say anything too impolitic at the office, particularly when it came to issues of race or gender, I doubted that anyone would put me in the camp of being an overt supporter of more opportunities for women. I liked to think of myself as a believer in meritocracy; I didn't care if women received their just opportunities, as long as they fairly earned them. But I knew that Elizabeth and other women in the department interpreted my position of one that called into question whether women in general were as qualified to be in the professoriate as men. Earlier in my career this may have concerned me, but as a full professor with tenure, I had earned the right not to give much of a damn about what people like Elizabeth and others thought.

So naturally, seeing Elizabeth next to me, I tried to hurry up the check-out process and get out of there before she saw me and tried to say hello. As much as I was enjoying looking at the check-out girl's tits in front of me, I didn't want to talk to Elizabeth. While we were not on the best of terms, she was the type who felt obligated to engage in chitchat when she bumped into a colleague somewhere in town.

I had almost finished up, receiving the receipt from the clerk, and getting ready to make a run for it. Luckily Elizabeth's aisle was away from the door, so I was hoping to head for the door without her seeing me. I thanked Ashley, grabbed my cart, and started pushing it toward the door.

"Hi, Robert," I heard behind me, cringing at the sound of my formal name that was never used by any of my friends. I suspected that Elizabeth knew it bothered me, which only encouraged her to use it.

I turned, and feigning surprise, said, "Elizabeth! How are you?" I thought I sounded pretty convincing. I was tempted to call her "Liz" just to get back at her, but decided I just wanted to get out of there as quickly as I could.

"Good, thanks. Just doing my shopping after working out at the gym. Haven't seen much of you around the office lately, have you been away?"

"I did have a meeting in Kansas City a couple of weeks ago, but mostly I've been working at home since. I'm on deadline for an article I'm trying to finish up, so have been trying to avoid distractions in the office," I lied. "You know how it is, when you're in there, everyone wants a piece of you," I chuckled, trying to sound convincing again.

"Oh yes, I certainly understand that. I get the most work done at home, too."

We walked toward the doors, each of us pushing a cart. I glanced in and was surprised to see she had about four bags worth of food, which seemed like a lot for someone who was single like me. I figured she must not like shopping either, and probably did it as infrequently as possible.

She must have seen me glancing at her bags, because she said, "I'm having some friends over tonight, so I was stocking up on snacks, and beer and wine," she said as an explanation.

"Oh," I replied, not sure why I was feeling guilty at being caught looking in her cart.

We got to the doors and they parted automatically as we stepped on the black mats. As we reached the curb, I said, "Well, nice seeing you, Elizabeth, enjoy your party tonight," trying to extricate myself from the conversation. I quickly headed toward my car.

"You too, Bob," she replied, and headed in the same direction.

I tried not to walk too quickly, to make it look like I was trying to get away from her. But Elizabeth kept following me, and as I got to my car, I saw her stop at the one right next to me, hitting her remote followed by the beep, beep, click of her doors being unlocked.

As I quickly loaded my bags in the trunk, I heard Elizabeth's voice. "Robert, would you do me a big favor?"

I stifled a groan, and as tempted as I was to say, "No," I didn't want to come across as an absolute dick. So I replied, "Sure, Elizabeth, what is it?"

"I think I may have pulled something in my back working out earlier, so I was wondering if you'd mind helping me put these bags in my car. I've got some heavy ones, with all the beer and wine I bought."

"Easy enough," I thought to myself. I said, "No problem, happy to help out," slammed my trunk shut, and walked over to her car.

As I was lowering the first two bags into her open trunk, I heard her say, "Noreen Taylor."

I jumped at hearing those words, and almost dropped the two bags. I quickly recovered, easing them down, but realized that I was experiencing the same tingly sensation in my body that I had felt when Jerry had said Noreen's name the day before. I tried to grab the last of Elizabeth's grocery bags, and get out of there as quickly as possible, but before I could put my hands on them, I heard it again.

"Noreen Taylor."

This time I froze, unable to move. I just stood there, looking at the bags, unable to mentally comprehend what I had just been doing.

"Get into my car, Bob" I heard Elizabeth say. I was conscious that she had switched to my more familiar name that most people used. Without understanding why, I followed her direction, walked to the passenger side door, opened it, and got in and sat down. I was conscious of Elizabeth putting the rest of her groceries in her trunk, and out of the corner of my eye saw her take both of our carts and put them in the cart area.

She got into her car and said, "Give me your keys, Bob." Still not understanding what was happening, I fished them out of my pocket, and handed them to her. She pushed the locking button once, and I heard a beep as the doors of my car locked. She dropped the keys into her purse. "I hope you didn't get any frozen items," she said with a chuckle, as she started her engine.

I just stared ahead, not knowing what I was doing there. Something in the back of my head told me I should open the door and get out, but I could not will my body to do what my brain told it.

She backed out of the space, exited the supermarket's parking lot, and began driving. I had no idea where we were going; while logically I should have figured she was driving home, I had no rationality yet with which to work. I was just along for the ride.

After about ten minutes, we pulled up to a condominium, and she pressed the button to open her garage door. She pulled in, stopped the engine, and closed the garage door with the same button. She pushed another button, and I heard her trunk pop open. "Grab the groceries and follow me," she said, as she got out of the car.

I tried to say something in objection, but I could not form the words. When I still sat there, unmoving, I saw her come around to my side and open my door. "I said, get the groceries and follow me," I heard her say in a more stern-sounding voice. "You better learn to start obeying, me, Bob, or it's going to be a very long night." This helped snap me out of my reverie, and I got out of the car, reached into the trunk, and grabbed three of the bags of groceries.

I followed her into her home and through it into the kitchen, which was on the other side of the house, where I put the groceries on a counter. "Get the rest of them," she commanded me.

I turned around and headed back from where I had come. As I approached the door to the garage, I noticed a key hook with her keys sitting on them. I had a fleeting thought of grabbing them and using her car to get away, but I couldn't put the mental thoughts together in a cogent fashion that would allow me to execute such a plan. So instead, I simply got the remaining bags out of her trunk and brought them into the kitchen.

"Good boy," she said. The condescending tone rankled me for a split second, and I started to say something back to her in anger, but again, my mind wouldn't allow me to form the words.

"Follow me."

I watched as she left the kitchen and walked into her living room. I followed a few steps behind her, and as she stopped, I stopped. "Sit down, I'll be right back," and she pointed to the sofa.

I did as she said, sitting and waiting expectedly. She walked off to an adjacent room that looked like some kind of home office. I could hear her tapping away at the keyboard, and after only a minute, she returned.

She plopped down in a chair facing the sofa, with a stocky wooden cocktail table between the two of us. I felt like my mind was working at only 10 or 20 percent capacity; I was conscious of my surroundings, and could hear and understand what she was saying to me, enough to be able to follow through on her commands. But it wasn't working at a capacity enough for me to do much else but sit and listen to her.

"You remember what happened in Kansas City, don't you Bob," Elizabeth started.

When she asked this, I tried to think back to my trip there less than two weeks ago. I remember I had been there for a meeting of the advisory board of a research project, but I didn't remember much else. It felt as if I were trying to recall the remnants of a dream that were located deep in my subconscious. I could retrieve bits and pieces of what had transpired, but could not put the whole thing together into a cogent narrative of the events. I stared at her blankly, not responding, so she must have realized I couldn't remember it enough to able to tell her.

"Well, let me help you. A good friend of mine was at that meeting with you and she magictized you, and then powerd you to perform oral sex on her. Does that ring any bells?"

I tried to take what she told me, and use the information along with the remnants of the story that I was able to dredge up from my memory, to piece together that missing narrative. But I was still unable to do so, and I just stared at her, shaking my head.

I saw Elizabeth get up from her chair, and come around the coffee table to sit down on it, facing me. She leaned forward, close enough that I could smell the sweat on her from her workout at the gym, placing her face just inches from mine. "Pussy licking, Bob – my friend powerd you to lick her pussy. She sat on a chair, spread her legs, and had you stick your tongue right up her cunt. How about that, you remember that now?"

The rudeness of the words coming out of her mouth were a shock. I had never recalled her using language like that in all the years I knew her. The words must have had the desired effect, because I now began to remember what happened in Kansas City. I had a very faint memory of being in Noreen Taylor's hotel room, with my head under her dress, as I licked her pussy – something that I would never have willingly done.

The recognition of what had transpired must have begun to flash across my face, as Elizabeth smiled and said, "That's right, Bob, you're remembering now, aren't you?"

I nodded, and simply said, "Yes, I think so."

Elizabeth got up and returned to her chair. "Well, I'm glad you do remember, Bob, because let me tell you, my friend Noreen certainly remembered it. She said you were very talented with your tongue, and I'm not talking about in a way that would impress the audience at a scholarly talk you were giving." With this, she gave a hearty laugh, and sat back in her chair.

I understood enough now of what was going on to be greatly embarrassed by what she was saying. I must have turned beet red, and I felt very warm all of a sudden.

"Well, try as you want, Bob, you are unable to resist anything I tell you to do, as long as you are under the magictic spell in which I've placed you. I can't tell you how happy I was to get that phone call from Noreen after the Kansas City meeting, when she told me what she had done to you. We've both known for years that you're a big fucking pig, and she had waited a long time to get back at you. And I've been looking forward to an opportunity to put you in your place also."

My cognitive functioning was starting to recover enough that I could form a question. "What is it you want, Elizabeth?" I asked questioningly.

"Oh, don't you worry, Bob. You'll find out in short order. Let me say that I'm not going to do anything that will do any permanent damage to you, but I am certainly going to take advantage of the situation as much as I can. I was very pleasantly surprised that I was able to get to you as quickly as I have. After working out at the gym this afternoon, as I was driving past campus I saw your car leaving the garage, and followed you. As luck would have it, you stopped to do some shopping. Perfect!"

"Wait a minute, Elizabeth, you. . . " I tried to say, but before I could go any further, she cut me off.

"Forget about it, Bob. As long as you're under the magicsis, you'll do everything – and I mean everything – I tell you."

Somehow, I knew that she was telling the truth, as much as I wanted to argue with her, so I gave up. "What is it you want?" I inquired.

"That's much better, Bob," she laughed. "And I'm happy to tell you what's going to happen tonight. First, I'm going to take permisteral advantage of the situation, to see for myself just how much are your, how shall I put this, 'oral talents.' Then, as I told you, I'm going to be having some friends over later tonight, and I'm going to give them the chance to see just what you can do. In fact, I just emailed them and let them know that tonight was the night. I'd been prepping them for this for over a week now, and they're all ready and rearing to go," she said with another laugh.

Hearing this sent off warning bells in my head. Something about a group of women here in Elizabeth's house made me realize that what was going on was not right, but when I tried to object, I just couldn't find the words.

Elizabeth must have seen the look on my face, and realized what I was struggling with. "Give it up, Bob, as much as you may want to resist, you can't. You'll have no option but to obey the commands of the permister who put you under the spell." Pointing to herself, she went on, "And that's me!"

I just sat there numbly, listening to her words and trying to make sense of them.

"So tell you what, champ. Here's how we're going to get started. I need to get cleaned up, and have a little supper before the other women get here, but before I do, I thought we'd have a little fun. So follow me." With that, she rose, and I did the same, following her as she walked off. She headed up a flight of stairs to the second floor. As we climbed the stairs my face was level with her large ass, which was well outlined in the Spandex workout pants that clung to it, leaving every curve displayed. She was quite a bit larger than any of the women I had dated since my divorce, and was not the kind of woman I would be attracted to.

I continued to follow her as she entered what must have been her bedroom. There was a large king-sized bed with a headboard and footboard, with what looked like an expensive, hand-sewn quilt on it. She pulled back the quilt, exposing the sheets, and said to me, "Lie down on the bed on your back, with your head on those pillows."

I walked over to the bed, and climbed up onto it and lay down. Somehow, I had a very faint sense of what was to come. I couldn't foresee all of it, but I had a very hazy sense of where this was going.

Elizabeth began to peel off her t-shirt, which exposed what looked like a sports bra. "Whew, that was quite a workout I had today – it was pretty warm in there and I was really sweating." She expelled a big breath as she reached behind her and undid her bra, exposing a very large set of tits, which immediately flopped down on her belly. Propped up on the pillows as I was, I easily saw their creamy whiteness, each one topped by a caramel-colored areola with a quite prominent nipple in the middle. Exposing them to the air must have stimulated her, because each seemed to grow under my observation, from roughly pencil eraser-sized to more the size of a thimble in length and girth.

She then reached down, and putting her fingers into the waistband of the Spandex pants, pushed them down her ample thighs, exposing a pair of light blue panties. Or at least what must have started as light blue panties, because patches, including the gusset, were now stained a much darker shade of blue. "Yeah, I was definitely sweating in that gym," she said as she rolled the panties down her legs and looked at them, noticing the stains. I immediately saw that she was one of those women who trimmed her pussy; it was quite clear that it was not a full bush, but there was enough hair there to show that she did not shave. I also spotted what looked like beads of sweat stuck in the short hairs.

She kicked her clothes off to the side of the room, and proceeded to climb up on the bed. It was at this point that there was no doubt as to her intent. As she knee-walked her way up the bed toward my head, the scent of her sweat of which she had been speaking was unavoidable. She was quite pungent, and as she got closer, I could see her body still had the sheen of sweat on it in parts.

Elizabeth swung her large right leg over my chest, and straddled me. I felt the dampness of her crotch through the shirt on my chest, and looked up at her face, beyond the swell of her stomach and large tits. She was smiling down at me. "Let's see just how good you are, Bob."

With this she scooted further up my chest, dragging what I could now feel were her pussy lips across my shirt. I could feel it growing damp as she got to my chin, and having done so, just slightly rose up on her knees, enough to bring her crotch right above my mouth. As she did this, I realized that what I thought was sweat on her panties and in her pussy hairs was not only sweat. The smell of her arousal quickly engulfed me, as she lowered herself down on to my lips.

My first instinct was to pull away, as the aroma emanating from her pussy was almost stifling. As I tried to turn my head to the side, she placed both her hands over my ear, yanking me back into place. "Don't even think about it," she said, her voice turning now to a more stern menacing tone. "You know what to do – start serving me, you pig." She used her thighs to pin my arms down to the bed, rendering them useless as a tool to fight her.

Defeated, and unable to conjure up either the mental or physical strength to resist her, I relented. I gingerly pushed my tongue between my lips, and tentatively ran it up and down the outer portion of her hair. My first instinct was right; it was clear that the wetness on her pussy was due as much, if not more, to sexual arousal as it did to sweat. It was readily apparent that this whole scene was turning her on.

I licked like this a few times, up and down, until I heard her say with the same stern tone, "I don't have all night – I told you I was having guests. Stop being such a pussy and get your tongue in there." With this she laughed at her own joke, and ground her crotch even tighter onto my mouth.

I realized I had no choice, and pushed my tongue out further. The combination of her grinding onto my mouth and my extended tongue resulted in powering it between her labia and into her pussy. My tongue was immediately bathed in her arousal, as the wetness started seeping out of her pussy, down my tongue, and into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around, touching the sides as well as top and bottom of her vagina.

"That's a good boy, you're such a good pussy licker, keep going" I heard her say, as she now was leaning forward and grabbing onto the headboard. Her huge tits, topped by nipples that had grown even further, were now hanging down right over my head. I knew that I was going to get no relief until I finished the job, so I did my best to use my tongue to stimulate her.

"Keep going, you little slut," she urged me on, as she continued to grind her pussy against my face. The short hairs were starting to feel rough against my face, even though she was lubricating it with copious amounts of fluid that was running down my cheeks as well as into my mouth. I don't think I had ever experienced a woman with as wet a pussy as this one. I could feel the rivulets running down my cheeks and pooling at the back of my neck as I had to continually swallow to keep from having her wetness build up in my mouth.

This continued for a few more minutes, and I thought I felt her orgasm beginning to build. I hoped that the end would soon be near, as I knew that most women were very sensitive after an orgasm received via oral sex, and would not want more ministrations. I pushed my tongue in and out, laving as much of the surface area inside her pussy as I could, hoping this would push her over the edge. But just as I thought she was getting to the point of no return, I felt her rise up and pull off of my mouth.

"Very good, little boy," she continued with her verbal offense of me. "But I'm not quite ready to cum yet." She scooted down my body, now placing her sopping pussy over my crotch. To my surprise, as she did this I realized that I was quite hard, and I could feel the wetness of her pussy soaking my pants. "What the fuck," I thought, being conscious enough to realize that I should not be turned on by this offense and servitude.

Before I could think more about it, however, I saw one of her large tits descending toward my face. "Open up, slut," she commanded, slapping me not so lightly on the cheek, as the nipple approached my mouth. Unable to resist, I did as she said, and a very large nipple plopped into my mouth. As I closed my lips over it, I felt her tit pressed against my face, and came to realize that she must be sweating even further as I felt the wetness of her tit against my skin.

I rolled my tongue over the nipple, which felt very rough. I used my lips to pull it away from her tit, and as I heard a moan escape her mouth, I realized she liked that. I continued that for a few moments until she pulled it away from me. I gasped for a quick breath, and as I did, she shifted over and dropped her other tit into my mouth. "Now this one," she said.

I did the same to her other tit, feeling the nipple grow even larger in my mouth. Another couple of minutes of this, and she pulled back up again.

"Very good, pig," she said. I looked up at her and saw that there was now a sheen of sweat over her entire body. She rose up over my crotch and began to scoot back up again, and as she did, the cool air on my crotch made me realize that her arousal had soaked right through my pants. She dropped her pussy onto my mouth again, and said with a laugh, "Okay, back to work. Let's see if you can get me off now."

I began again what I had done before, pushing my tongue as deeply into her pussy as it could go. As I did this, she eased her body even further onto my face, as if to push my tongue even further into her. This now left her covering not just my mouth, but the better part of my nose as well, and I had momentary thoughts of being ***d by her girth. But just as I thought I would have to fight to catch a breath, she eased herself up.

She continued this a few more times, with an uncanny ability each time to be able to judge when I was running out of air. After the last time, she pushed herself back just a bit, bringing the top of her pussy closer to my tongue. It was an unambiguous signal that she now wanted me to service her clit.

As I withdrew my tongue from her pussy and used it to locate her clit, I was greeted with an unexpected surprise. As I found it, I realized that her clit was huge, almost like a mini cock. Having just had her nipples in my mouth, I could easily compare those to her clit, and found them to be roughly similar in size. I started to swirl my tongue around the large clit, and as I did so, she began to moan again.

I could feel her orgasm begin to build in her once again, and I now tried to grab on to her clit with my lips. It was an easy accomplishment, given its length and girth. I sucked hard, pulling it away from its hood, and as I did this, I felt her body begin to shake and guttural sounds begin to emanate from her mouth.

"That's right, you pig, suck it hard, make me cum," she managed to get out. I sucked as hard as I could, pulling her clit all the way into my mouth. Her body shook more violently, and she screamed. As she did so, a violent gush of liquid came out of her pussy, a portion of it making its way into my mouth, the remainder spilling all over my face.

Her body continued to shake for about 30 seconds as she came down from her orgasm, and I released her clit from between my lips. She was leaning fully over on the headboard now, trying to catch her breath. I too fought for breath, which was a challenge given the amount of her wetness that had seeped into my nostrils.

Elizabeth eventually lifted herself up, and I was grateful that it was over. I exhaled, clearing out my nostrils, and breathing in as fresh air as was available. The smell of her orgasm and sweat still blanketed the bed. But I was grateful that I would now at least be given a break.

She lifted herself off of me, sitting next to me on the bed. Her large tits were flopped down, almost reaching her belly as she sat there. She was still breathing hard, trying to catch her breath. She finally did so enough to speak. "Well, I have to say, that wasn't bad, slut," she said, still using the humiliating tone she'd been using with me. "Not the best I've ever experienced, mind you, but my pussy is satisfied enough for now."

I tried not to breathe too large a sigh of relief, believing that I'd now get the chance to stretch my muscles which had grown quite sore underneath of her weight for all that time. I started to rise up, but as I got my elbows on the bed, she used her hand to swipe the one closest to her out from under me, and my torso fell back onto the bed again.

"Wait a minute, you pig. I said my pussy was satisfied, but there's still more you can do." I quickly thought to myself that she can't want me to do that again to her.

With that she got up on her knees, once more, and threw one of them over my body. But this time, she was facing away from me, with her abundant ass now right in front of me. I was greeted by two large cheeks, with a well-defined cleft pocked by soft-looking hairs between them leading from her lower back down toward her pussy.

Before I could gather my thoughts, she scooted up toward my face, and looked back over her shoulder. "You know what to do now, so get to it."

I was immediately disgusted by the prospect of what was facing me. Here I was, lying here, having just performed oral sex on this quite overweight colleague of mine. And now she was expecting me to use my tongue on her ass. I had never been into this kind of sex, and while I had once or twice had a lover who had suggested I do this to her, I had refused every time. The prospect of this was just too much for me to bear, and somehow my superego kicked in to compel me to resist. I raised my hands and used them to start to push against Elizabeth's ass cheeks, trying to get her off of me.

She must have been surprised by my resistance and to feel my hands on her ass, as she jumped up and spun around. "What the hell do you think you're doing, slut?" she yelled at me.

I was caught by surprise by the depth of her anger, and I instinctively replied, "I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

"Can't, or won't?" she asked, glaring at me. "I suspect you can do a lot more than you may be willing to do."

I began to get confused again, and didn't know how to reply. I simply lie there, her juices starting to dry on my face, looking at her.

"Let's try this again, pig. Either you're going to willingly stick that nice tongue of yours right up my ass, or I'm going to tie you to this bed and slady you with it. And if you don't think I can do that, you're going to be in for quite a surprise."

I looked at her, not knowing whether to believe her or not. I knew that I couldn't willingly lick her ass because of my deep down aversion to that, it was just too debasing for me to even contemplate. But I simply didn't know whether the magictic state I was in would compel me to lie there submissively while she tied me to the bed and followed through on her threat.

Not hearing any verbal resistance to what she had just told me, she went on. "So what's it going to be? Are we going to do this the easy way, or the hard way?"

"I can't do it," I mumred under my breath.

"What was that?"

I repeated, this time a little louder. "I said I can't do that."

Another look of anger crossed Elizabeth's face, and she leaned down, putting her face right in front of mine. But after a few seconds, the anger left, and a slight smile creased her mouth. "Well then, my little boy, we're just going to have to power you now, aren't we?"

With that she got up from the bed, and I saw her reach down and open up a drawer of the nightstand next to it. My mind told me to get up and run out of there, but the connection between my cognitive functioning and physical responses was still not working. All I could do was simply lie there, watching her.

She reached into the drawer and came out with something in her hand that I couldn't see at first. She pushed the drawer closed with her foot, and stood by the side of the bed.

"Okay, get your clothes off."

I looked at her, not understanding at first. I started to ask why, but as soon as I opened my mouth, she repeated the command, glaring at me. This second time it clicked, and not being able to resist, I sat up and slowly began unbuttoning my shirt. As I did so, I became painfully aware again of the scent of her arousal in the room. It hit me once more like a heavy blanket over my senses as I finished the last button, and pulled the shirt off of my body.

I undid the button on my pants, and as I unzipped them, I couldn't help but feel how soaked they were from her pussy juice that leaked onto them when she had been sitting on me earlier and powering me to suck her huge tits. After unzipping them, I lifted my ass off of the bed so as to be able to slide them off my legs. As I did this, I looked up and saw Elizabeth standing there, naked with a look on her face that I could only interpret as anticipation. I threw the pants over the side of the bed, next to my shirt, and then leaned down and took off my shoes and socks, throwing them on the growing pile of clothes. I lied back down.

"You're not done yet, my little boy. Get those boxers off too."

I couldn't get my hands to comply with her command. The offense of having my colleague do this to me, see me like this, was too much for me. The feeling of shame was heightened by the fact that I had a rather obvious erection causing my boxers to tent, a sight that I knew could not be missed by Elizabeth.

As if on cue, she remarked, "Well, looks like you and your little dick are enjoying this all a bit more than you care to let on, aren't you?"

I didn't know how to respond. On the one hand, I felt incredibly humiliated and degraded by the way she was treating me. Cognitively, I knew that I had been magictized, but that did little to relieve my shame. But on the other hand, I could not deny the way that my body was reacting to what she had been doing to me. I still couldn't will my hands to move toward my boxers.

"Okay, if you won't do it, I'll do it for you," she said to me. With that she dropped what she had been holding in her hands, and reached over and using both her hands, put one on each of the leg holes, and quickly yanked them apart. The soft cotton fabric tore, leaving the boxers in shreds next to me.

"There now," she laughed, "wasn't that much easier?" She grabbed the remaining fabric and pulled it from underneath me, now leaving me totally naked in front of her, my stiff cock very noticeably sticking it out.

"Not a very impressive looking little dick you have there, Bob, especially for someone as tall as you. I would have expected it to be much bigger, but guess you're the exception to the supposed correlation between height and dick size." She gave a cackle, and continued, "Not that it matters, since I have little use for that anyway."

I knew she was trying her best to humiliate me, and it was working. I normally felt very confident with women, especially when it came to sex, but the combination of the continual degradation she was heaping on me, along with the knowledge that I couldn't fight against what she was doing, had worn me down. I couldn't respond to what she was saying, and lie there silently in shame.

She bent over and retrieved from the floor what she had gotten out of the drawer. As she came closer to my head, I could see that she was holding some leather cuffs and ropes. She proceeded to grab my right wrist, and I instinctively tried to yank it away. She had a firm grip, however, and I was still not able to formulate a strong defense to her even though deep down I knew I ought to be fighting her. She wrapped the cuff around my wrist, and secured the Velcro catch tightly. She then took the rope, and tied it to one of the posts of the headboard.

When she grabbed my other wrist, I didn't even bother trying to resist, realizing that I had no choice but to submit to her wishes. She tied that one also, and then proceeded to do the same to my ankles, tying them to the posts of the footboard, in the process pulling my body a ways down the bed so that I was about in the middle of it. She rearranged the pillows under my head as I found myself spread-eagled on the bed, unable to move more than a few inches in either direction.

"There, that's better," Elizabeth said, looking at me from the bottom of the bed with a self-satisfied grin on her face. "That'll make things just a little bit easier."

With that, she again climbed up onto the bed, threw her meaty leg over my chest, and straddled me again facing my feet. Now I could feel the dampness of her pussy hairs directly on my chest, without the barrier of my shirt between us. Once more I was presented with the view of her ample ass cheeks less than a foot in front of me, and it was quite clear what was coming. I steeled myself for it, knowing that between the magicsis and the restraints, I would have no choice but to acquiesce to her demands.

"Okay, slut boy, let's go," and she scooted back toward my mouth, sitting up a bit in the process. This brought her into contact with my lips, and I began to lightly kiss her cheeks, first one, then the other, hoping that this might satisfy her. It was to no avail however, as she reached behind herself, and slapped me not-so-lightly on the cheek. "Use your tongue, idiot," she commanded.

I tentatively stuck out my tongue and ran it up and down one cheek. At the top of her ass I could taste her sweat, quite salty as I first touched each spot. Lower down, however, the saltiness was mixed with more of a musky taste, as I reached that part of her body where her pussy juices had dried after the long bout of cunnilingus I had performed on her earlier. The taste sensation was mixed in with the aroma of her arousal, which was still quite strong.

I repeated the process on the other cheek, receiving the same jolt to my senses as I ran my tongue up and down. She must have been enjoying this, because a satisfying sounding sigh emanated from her lips, and she said, "Very good, slut, I knew you had it in you."

Up until this point, I had carefully avoided her crack, which I could see had a rivulet of sweat running down the downy hairs that helped define it. But she now proceeded to scoot back just a bit, enough to make an unambiguous demand on my oral ministrations. Just in case I had any question about her intent, she made it clear what she wanted. "Use it on my crack, now, and I mean the whole thing."

Once more I resigned myself to my fate, and lightly began to lick up and down her crack. As with her cheeks, I could taste her sweat at the top of it, and at the bottom the mixture of sweat and her pussy juices that had spread over her body earlier. The downy hairs tickled my tongue a bit. Up and down I went, doing my best not to go too low, knowing what foreboding depths would greet me there if I allowed myself.

She seemed satisfied with this, as I continued for a few minutes, alternating between her cheeks and crack, and she continued to sigh every now and then. Just when I thought this would be the extent of it, I felt her lift up on her knees just an inch or so, and lean forward, grabbing my ankles with her hands.

There it was, right in front of me, what I had carefully been trying to avoid the last ten minutes or so. Her brown, wrinkled pucker was less than an inch from my lips. I saw her look back around her shoulder, straight into my eyes, and she smiled at me. With an almost imperceptible nod, she commanded me to go ahead.

I resignedly stuck out my tongue and lightly made contact with her rosebud. It felt slightly rough and wrinkled, not unlike her large nipples I had sucked on earlier in the evening. I swirled my tongue around in circles on the outer ridge of her asshole, my saliva combining with her sweat and pussy juice that had collected there. It had both a musky and tangy taste, one I had never experienced before.

After a minute of this, I heard her voice again. "Okay, enough playing around, I want to feel it in there, pig," she commanded

Continuing to be unable to resist, I had no choice but to comply. I pointed my tongue right at the center of the pucker, and gave a tentative push. There was resistance at first, but within a few seconds, I could feel it give way, allowing my tongue to enter. I now felt that my debasement was complete, that the offense she was making me endure could get no worse.

I poked my tongue in and out, and as I did so, she began to moan in a similar fashion to when I had been orally servicing her earlier. As I pushed in, she gently pushed her body back ever-so-slightly, powering my tongue in even deeper.

After another minute or two of this, I realized that she was starting to build toward an orgasm again. The same heavy breathing, moans, and shaking began to wrack her body. "Harder," she almost screamed at me.

I did my best to pick up the tempo, pushing even further into her asshole, hoping that the orgasm would come and bring me relief from the weight of her body on my face. Finally, after five more pistoning movements, it came, shaking her body even more wildly than her earlier orgasm. I could feel her juices again running down onto my face, this time off of my chin and down onto my neck and chest.

She must have shaken like that for a good 30 seconds, sitting with her ass directly on my face, pinching my nose and mouth together. Once again, I thought I was going to ***, but just when I thought I would pass out, she rolled off of me and lay down next to me. I could see her huge tits bobbing up and down as she tried to catch her breath.

After another minute, she was able to speak again. "Wow, that was pretty good, boy," she congratulated me. "I've never cum just from having my asshole licked like that, but then again, I've never had anyone do it like that before," she laughed.

I turned my head away from her in shame, unable and *** to make eye contact with her. I knew that the magicsis had made me unable to fight back, but nevertheless, it was still incredibly humiliating to be used like this by someone I had no interest in.

It was almost as if she were reading my mind, though, because she reached over and grabbed a hold of what I now realized was my very stiff cock. "Just like before, you little pig, you enjoyed being debased like this, didn't you? Your cock does like it now, doesn't it?"

I realized she was right, that I had been quite hard through the whole experience. She immediately let go of it, and sat up, then got off of the bed. "Time to get us cleaned up and get a little something to eat. We have to get ready for our guests, don't we?"

With all of the intensity focused on my oral servicing of Elizabeth, I had somehow completely forgotten about her plan to have some friends over later in the evening. I let out a groan in contemplation of what was still to come.

"Aw, c'mon, sport – it won't be that bad," she laughed as she whacked my thigh. "I'll get you untied and let you get hosed off."

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The Mentor


I first spotted her right after I checked into the hotel, as I turned to walk toward the elevators. The conference was being held in one of those modernistic hotels built in the 1960s or 70s with a large atrium and a bank of glass-walled elevators. Susan -- not Sue, or Susie, or any of those diminutive forms which would never have suited her permisterality -- could be seen through the glass of one of the elevators that was just leaving the lobby. She was easily recognizable in her stylish green suit (probably Ann Taylor, knowing her) with the skirt cut a good three inches above her knee, and her signature flaming red hair styled in a short wedge cut that had been so popular recently. She had what could only have been a $300 Hermès scarf tied around her neck, and was wearing pointy-toed shoes with a spiked heel at least two inches tall, the kind that Sarah Jessica Parker was always wearing on Sex and the City. The shoes only added to her height which must have been at least 5'9" in bare feet. She didn't see me, as she was turned and talking with what looked like a young graduate student. I was rooted to the spot, following the path of the elevator until I could no longer see them. I shook my head, smiled to myself, and continued forward to catch the next elevator with my suitcase in tow.

**********

I had known Susan Bascom for about ten years, ever since we had finished graduate school at the same time. We were in different programs back then, both top-ranked and well-respected, and our areas of research were not exactly the same but were similar enough that our paths crossed frequently. We both had specialties in 19th century English literature, with her focus being on the representation of gender, and mine being the role of broader social powers in the development of the novel during that era (back when I was starting graduate school men did not do gender studies). We began our job search at the same time, enduring the meat market of the Modern Language Association Convention -- or MLA, as it is unaffectionately known -- as best we could.

Susan was different than most of us, however, as she had had a moderately successful career in publishing before she went back to graduate school. She had risen to the rank of associate editor at a publishing house known for its highbrow literature list that was supported by more popular works. Thus, while most of us were in our late 20s when we finished school and began looking for our first academic posts, she was a decade our senior, knocking on the door of 40. To the casual observer, however, one would not suspect such an age difference as Susan was very youthful looking. She easily mixed with those of us who were younger, but the success she had achieved in the publishing industry was quite evident. Even in graduate school she always had the nicest clothes, the nicest leather briefcase, and the one time a conference was held close enough to her university that she could drive there rather than fly, we saw the fire engine red sports car she owned.

Susan and I were both relatively successful on the job market, each of us receiving multiple offers when many of our peers received none. Mine were a touch better, however, and I landed a plum position at a well-known university. She ended up at an institution that could best be described as "second tier," not a bad one by any means but not in the same class as my employer. I would not describe our relationship as one of friendship, but we did generally see each other two or three times a year and always said "hello" and had some pleasant conversations. She had even met my wife Sarah a couple of times when she accompanied me to a conference. She and Sarah had gotten along fabulously, and I knew they stayed in e-mail contact with one another.

In the ensuing decade, however, it was her career that had skyrocketed ahead of mine. Her first book came out to rave reviews less than two years after she finished her Ph.D., followed in quick succession by two more that were equally well received. She supplemented this with insightful journal articles that explored the representation of gender in mid 19th century England, and even branched out to examine the changing dimensions of sexuality during the same era. She was the darling of the academic conferences, the MLA and the smaller boutique gatherings like the one we were at now. She had received at least two major awards of which I was aware, and was granted tenure at her university in her fourth year, largely it was said to try to keep her there and discourage her from bolting to greener pastures. And much to everybody's surprise, she had stayed, even in the face of annual gossip that she was being wooed by more prestigious settings.

Susan was also well known not just for her research but also for her teaching and mentorship of graduate students. She had a faithful flock of former students who were loyal supporters and were vocal in singing her praises. They could be found at conferences gathered around her, alongside her current students who she funded to attend the conferences and network in preparation for their own entry into the academic job market. There were always rumors about the nature of Susan's relationships with these students but I had never heard any concrete evidence that there was any untoward behavior. I chalked up much of the gossip to professional jealousy.

While my career had developed respectably, it could no way be compared to the meteoric rise of Susan's. I had produced a couple of books that were well received but in no way comparable to hers, and while I had earned tenure in the standard sixth year, my scholarly reputation could best be described as somewhat below that of most of my star-studded colleagues at my own institution. Nevertheless, a professor's life is a good one, and while I knew I would never be among the glitterati at the MLA, I was happy.

***********

I entered the elevator, punched my floor, and rode upward gazing down at the lobby. Unlike the MLA, which was an annual mob scene with upwards of ten thousand faculty members spread out through hotels all over the city, this conference was much smaller with only about 500 of us all in the single hotel. I much preferred this kind of gathering, where you could actually connect with colleagues, spend some time with them, and not be overwhelmed by a program book that listed over 4,000 sessions on everything from "Simultaneously Marxian and Queer Comments on Jamemister, Allegory, and Method" to "Taking Away the Threat: Cribs and The Osbournes as Narratives of Domestication." As I looked down at the registration desk I saw a few more people queuing up to check in.

The chime sounded and I got out on my floor. I looked left and right down the corridor trying to guess which way was my room. As I looked to the left about five doors down, I spotted Susan and what I presumed was her graduate student, both with suitcases in hand, standing in the hallway talking. They were quite engaged in a conversation about something and hadn't noticed me. I wondered if they were sharing a room together, a wicked thought I know, but as I mentioned there had long been rumors that Susan's relationship with some of her students -- both male and female alike -- went beyond mentoring into what some would describe as a "close permisteral relationship." She was single when she entered graduate school, I knew, and had not married since.

I took the opportunity to check Susan out a little more closely. Even though she was ten years older than I and approaching 50, she still retained a great figure. She wasn't thin, by any standard, and had quite a few extra pounds on her, but she had great curves set off by a pleasingly plump ass and substantial breasts that she usually showed off with low-cut blouses underneath her suit. And she still had legs that were worth displaying under her short skirts -- well, short by academic standards at least. With her height, though, she carried the extra weight very well.

Not wanting to get caught staring at the two of them, I quickly turned to the right and hoped that was the correct direction for my room. As I glanced at the room numbers, I saw that I was in luck. A few more doors down and I reached my room. As I shoved the keycard in the lock, I looked to my left down the hall toward Susan. I saw the student walking further down the hall by herself. As I entered my room, I laughed at myself thinking that Susan would have been sharing her room with a student. That would have been a little too obvious, even for her. I shut the door, put my backpack down, and began unpacking my suitcase.

**********

The conference began early that evening with an opening address from an esteemed senior colleague in our field. I often wondered who bestowed the label "esteemed" on these people; all I knew was that the speech was invariably a yawner. The only way they got people to go was by scheduling it right before the opening reception, which offered free food and ***** -- well, not quite "*****" by any standard, but cheap wine and domestic beer. After all, this is an academic crowd with relatively few financial resources. The opening reception always went late into the evening as the attendees soaked up their last freebies for the next few days.

After a couple of years attending these types of gatherings I'd learned to avoid the free food and just enjoy a nice meal out. I thought of myself as somewhat better than the rest of them, not bowing to the offer of free -- but lousy -- food and wine, but holding out for a better meal. I had made plans a couple of weeks ago to meet up with my friend Carl who was similarly inclined, and we found a nice Japanese restaurant a few blocks from the hotel. By the time we got back to the hotel, it was about 9:00, and we could hear the noisy gathering in the ballroom. We went into the empty bar located in the lobby to have a take and continue our conversation.

As I sat down, I glanced over Carl's shoulder at the restaurant that took up the other corner of the lobby. Not surprisingly given the late hour and the fact that the conference took up all the rooms in the hotel, it was largely deserted. I did spot one attended table, though, and just as I was about to turn my attention back to listen to what Carl was talking about (something about Dickens, most likely, as that was who he spent most of his waking hours thinking and writing about), I realized that it was Susan Bascom and her grad student sitting there. They too must have decided to bypass the opening reception.

Carl and I ordered our takes, and he quickly downed his and excused himself, complaining about having to get up early for a panel on which he was presenting. I graciously offered to pay for his take, and he just as graciously accepted. After shaking his hand and saying good-bye, I sat down again to finish my margarita. As I did, I glanced over again at the restaurant, just as Susan's graduate student was standing up, purse in hand. She began walking away from the table, and as she did, I examined her in more detail.

Having been focused on Susan when I saw them earlier, I had not yet formed much an impression of her student. She was young, probably only about 25, and was wearing casual clothes, a loose fitting beige top and dark pants -- thus confirming her relative youth, as somebody further along in her studies would have been wearing interview clothes at this conference in order to impress potential employers. She was shorter than Susan, maybe 5'4" or so, and I could see she was relatively thin even in her loose clothes. She too had short hair, but unlike Susan's red locks, hers were brunette. Her face could be described as somewhat plain, nothing you would think twice about if you passed her on the street.

As I signaled the waitress for my check, I watched the student cross the lobby and head toward the bathrooms. The bathrooms were down a small hallway off the lobby, between the restaurant and the bar. She entered the bathroom just as the waitress brought my check. As I reached for my wallet, I glanced over at the restaurant. Susan was paying her check, and as she stood up to leave, I saw she was still wearing the green suit I spied her in earlier. As she left the restaurant, she too headed toward the bathroom. Even though this brought her closer to me, I realized it would have been hard for her to see me, because of the position of some columns and large palms that helped separate the bar from the lobby.

As the waitress walked away with my credit card, I watched Susan head down the hallway and into the ladies room. In the time since her student had gone in there, I hadn't seen anybody else go in or come out. By the time my credit card and charge slip were brought for my signature, a good seven or eight minutes had passed since the student had gone into the bathroom, and three or four since Susan entered. I thought this quite curious, the two of them in there seemingly all alone. I pondered what was going on as I signed the slip and put my credit card back in my wallet.

I sat for another couple of minutes, finishing the last few drops of my take, still keeping an eye cocked toward the bathroom. Neither of them had exited, and given the fact that everybody else still seemed to be enjoying the reception in the ballroom (which undoubtedly had its own set of bathrooms), nobody else had gone in. By this time I was incredibly curious, and wondering what the hell was going on in there. I thought back to the rumors that had circulated about the relationship between Susan and her students, and decided I had to investigate this further.

I left the bar and headed toward the hallway where the bathrooms were located. I went down the hallway, which was long enough that one could not see the bathrooms from main part of the lobby area. As I approached the bathrooms, with the men's on the left and women's on the right, I glanced over my shoulder to make sure nobody was behind me. I knew the likelihood of anybody else coming to these bathrooms was slim, given that all of our colleagues were likely to still be enjoying the conference opening reception for some time. Seeing nobody there, I put my ear to the door of the women's room and listened for a few seconds. Hearing nothing, I slowly pushed the door open just far enough to poke my head in, and as surreptitiously as possible, glanced around the door.

What I saw was nobody -- just the open area where the sinks were located, and a partition around which must have been located the toilet stalls. Once I determined that there was nobody right there, I quickly stepped inside, and quietly eased the door closed behind me. My first impression was that the women's room was much nicer than the men's room. There was carpeting on the floor, at least in the sink area, and a nice red velvet sofa and matching upholstered chairs. There was a selection of toiletries in the sink area for the women to use.

Still hearing nothing, I quietly tiptoed toward the partition separating the sink area from the toilet stalls. As I came toward it, I heard a very faint and muffled woman's voice. I couldn't make out what it was saying, but it was clearly coming from the other side of the partition. I poked my head around the partition very slowly and carefully. Luckily, there was nobody standing on the other side. As I suspected, this section of the bathroom contained the series of toilet stalls.

I slowly walked around the partition and stood immobile for a few seconds. A quick glance down the row of stalls confirmed what I suspected -- there was only one door closed, and it was the one at the far end, which was the handicapped stall. From where I was standing, I couldn't see under the bottom of the stalls, but I listened to see if I could pick up the voice again. Sure enough, I heard a voice coming from that stall.

The carpeting continued from the sink area into this section, but then stopped right in front of the row of stalls. This allowed me to creep quietly toward the end of the row and the closed door of the last stall. As I got closer, I was careful not to get in front of the gap between the door of the stall and its wall, so as not to be seen by the occupants. I stopped a few feet before reaching the stall, still on the carpeting. From this position I could more clearly hear the voice, and it did not take me long to recognize it as Susan's. I bent down enough so as to be able to see under the walls of the stall, and confirmed my auditory conclusion by spotting Susan's bare legs and her stiletto heels spread wide and facing the door of the stall. I could see in front of her, kneeling on the tile of the floor, the trouser-clad legs of what had to be her student. I was now close enough to hear Susan's voice quite clearly, even though she was speaking quietly.

"That's right, sweetie, you're doing just fine, just keep doing that," she said, in a soft and soothing voice. There were other sounds coming from the stall, but I was at an angle that I couldn't see what was going on in there, and I was fearful of being seen or heard myself. But from what I could see and hear, my mind started conjuring up quite a lovely image of that young grad student kneeling between Susan's legs.

"Harder, sweetie, lick harder up and down." Now there was no question of what was going on in there, and Susan's voice drew me closer to the stall. I tiptoed a few feet forward, staying on the carpet so as to be quiet as possible. This brought me a bit closer, so that I could see a little bit through the crack between the door of the stall and the wall. But I was too far away to really see anything at all. But imagining what the young woman was doing to Susan had gotten me very aroused, and my pants were starting to tent pole as I had quite an erection.

"Okay, now stop," Susan's said, still speaking softly but in a commanding tone. I could see under the stall that the student stood up, and I heard the rustling of clothes. I panicked, not sure what I should do. I was afraid if I started to move too quickly back toward the door, they'd hear me. I decided I'd duck into one of the other stalls and pick my feet up, so they wouldn't be able to spot my quite obviously men's pants and shoes under the stall. Just as I started to do this, the door to their stall flew open, and Susan came out, followed by the student. I was frozen on the spot, and I'm sure I must have looked like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights.

"Bob!," Susan exclaimed, not looking nor sounding entirely shocked to see me standing there. My first instinct was to run out of there, but I was worried about the off chance of somebody seeing me flying out of the women's room and what the implications of that would be.

Before I could think any further, Susan said, "Don't move or I'll scream." That decided things for me -- the thought of Susan Bascom screaming redy *** in the women's room, and what that would likely bring into there was not something I wanted to experience. So I just stood there, not saying a word nor moving.

"You know Professor Arnold, don't you Laura?" she said, turning to the young lady next to her. As I now looked at her, standing there next to Susan, with dusty smudges on her knees and her hair slightly disheveled, she looked as equally embarrassed as I knew I must have appeared. She just lightly nodded her head, without uttering a word.

"And that would be his erection," she said, laughing heartily and pointing toward my crotch. "Well, Bob, so nice to see you, though I didn't imagine this is where we'd first run into each other at the conference. I would ask you what the hell you are doing here, but I suspect I already know the answer to that one. You followed us in here, didn't you?"

Now it was my turn to just nod my head, my mouth suddenly very dry and unable to articulate any words. I thought again about making a dash for it, but was afraid of what that might bring. And I was still worried about Laura standing there as a witness to this whole episode.

"Okay, professor, follow me. You too Laura." Susan turned and walked back into the stall and grabbed her purse, followed by Laura doing the same. She then walked toward the sink area, me behind her, and Laura behind me. I didn't know what else to do other than just follow along, unsure what her plan was. She put her purse down on the counter next to a sink, and reached in and pulled out a small digital camera.

After pressing a few buttons, she said, "Okay, Bob, now go stand over near the sofa." I did as she said, still unable to question or challenge her. I found that I was actually getting aroused, as even though I was scared about the situation in which I had found myself, I was also mesmerized by her commanding presence.

She turned to Laura and said, "Honey, open the door and peek out to see if anybody is there."

Laura immediately did as she was told, opening the door and sticking her head out. She let it go and reported to Susan, "No, Professor Bascom, there's nobody there."

"Good. Now hold it open for me." Laura held the door open, and Susan stepped outside a few feet. She lifted the camera, and pointed it toward me. I could see that she was framing a shot that would include the bathroom door, with the large silhouette of a woman on it, through to me, standing in front of the furniture that quite clearly delineated this as a women's room.

Susan smiled and quietly said, "Say cheese!" In a second, I saw the flash of the camera, and Susan stepped back into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She turned the deadbolt lock on the inside of the door. "Now we'll have a little privacy, won't we? Won't have to worry about anybody disturbing us in here."

She put the camera on the counter behind her. "And now we'll have a little souvenir of your visit in here, won't we Bob? And just in case anybody wants to question the photographic evidence, I have Laura here who will confirm that you were caught spying on women in here. Right Laura?"

Laura once again meekly nodded her head, and Susan said to her in a sharper voice, "Is that the proper way to respond, my pet?"

Laura quickly said, "No, Professor Bascom, I'm sorry."

"That's better, sweetie." She turned to me and said, "By the way, Laura is one of my most promising grad students. I know she's going to have a great career ahead of her, aren't you my sweet?"

"Yes, ma'am," Laura responded, without missing a beat.

"So, Bob, how have you been?" she asked, turning back to me.

I was still dry-mouthed, but managed to mumble, "I've been better," in a quiet voice.

"What was that, Bob, I can't hear you. Sounds like you need a little reminder of the proper way to speak to me, just like Laura did. Please speak up and address me in a more appropriate manner."

I stumred for a second, not quite sure what she meant. But I knew I had to do something, so I responded by saying in a clear voice, "I've been better, Susan."

All of the sudden, we heard a sound at the door -- somebody was trying to open it. Susan quickly said to us, "Go stand near that wall," and pointed toward the wall right next to the hinge side of the door. We both did as we were told, and Susan walked over to the door, unlocked the deadbolt, and opened it a foot or so.

"Is everything okay in here?" I heard a voice from outside inquire

"I'm sorry," Susan said. "My student is very sick, it must have been something she ate. She's using the facilities in here and was a little embarrassed at having anybody walk in on her, so I locked the door until she's done."

The voice outside said, "Oh, I'm very sorry to disturb you -- is there anything I can do to help?"

Susan responded, "Oh how sweet of you to offer, but that's okay, I think I have it under control." She then said in a whisper, but loud enough that we could hear, "She seems to be going back and forth from the sofa to the toilet, if you know what I mean. So I'm afraid she'll be in here for a little bit until I can get her up to her room."

The voice replied, "Oh, that's fine, ma'am. With everybody in the ballroom, there's really nobody who needs to use this restroom. Let me get the 'temporarily closed' sign and I'll put it in front of the door. Then when you are done, just call the front desk and let them know. That way you won't be bothered. I hope your friend feels better."

"Thank you, I really appreciate it," Susan said. With that, she closed the door and relocked it. Turning toward Laura and me, she said with a big smile on her face, "Now I know we won't be bothered in here. Now where were we? Oh yes, I remember now -- I was making sure Bob knew the proper way to address me." Now I was very nervous, realizing that I was at Susan's mercy and unlikely to be rescued from my predicament.

"Now Bob," Susan continued, "You can address me as Professor Bascom, I think that would be appropriate given the situation you have found yourself in, don't you?"

"Yes, Professor Bascom," I meekly replied, not knowing what else to do other than to go along with her little game.

"Much better, Bob. Now listen up. Given what you've done by following us in here, which I would consider somewhat inappropriate for a man of your professional standing, you better do everything I tell you. Otherwise I'll share my nice photograph of you with a few select colleagues, backed up by Laura's confirmation of what you did. You'll do that, won't you pet?" she asked, turning toward Laura.

"Yes, ma'am," she replied.

"And you, Bob, are you ready to listen?"

I was still stunned that I had found myself in this situation, but knew I had no choice. "Yes, Professor Bascom."

" 'Yes Professor Bascom,' what, Bob?"

"Yes, Professor Bascom, I am ready to listen to you," I replied.

"Good," Susan said, smiling once again. "Here's what I want you to do. Go stand over in front of the sofa, facing me. And Laura, you go sit in that chair over there," pointing to one of the chairs that was facing the sofa. I did as she said, and Laura walked over and sat in the chair.

"Now undo your belt buckle and lower your trousers to your ankles." I hesitated, not sure I could actually go through with this. But upon seeing my hesitation, Susan hissed in a stern voice, "Do it, Bob -- and you better start responding more quickly or you'll be sorry."

Upon hearing the tone of her voice, I said, "Yes, Professor Bascom," and quickly undid my belt and lowered my chinos to my ankles, standing there in my boxer shorts. My erection was still there, and I was afraid it was visible through my boxers, as even though I was incredibly fearful of what was happening I was still very aroused by Susan's domination and control over me. I had a dress shirt on, so as I looked down I saw the shirt tails were at least partially covering my erection.

"Very good, Bob, you're doing much better now. Laura, go over and unbutton his shirt, but leave it on." Laura did as she was instructed, walking over and undoing the buttons one at a time from the top to the bottom. The hands of this young woman -- who a few minutes ago had apparently been on her knees licking the pussy of the woman standing a few feet away -- brushing against my chest made me even more aroused. Once she undid the bottom button, the two halves of the shirt opened up, with my erection poking through between them, leaving no doubt as to the state of my arousal.

"Hmm, it appears that you are enjoying this. Is that true, Bob?"

I couldn't respond, I was so humiliated. The thought that my body was so aroused by Susan's control over me, combined with not just Susan seeing me like this, but her young graduate student seeing me in this state also, was just too much for me to comprehend.

"Bob, I asked you a question?" I heard Susan say.

I knew I had to respond somehow, that I couldn't ignore her. "I don't know," I replied, quickly adding, "Professor Bascom."

"Oh, c'mon Bob -- a smart man like you? You're so good at doing research and reading the evidence, I shouldn't have to put two and two together for you, should I? First I catch you spying on Laura and me in here, with an obvious erection pushing out of your crotch. Then, when I start telling you what to do, I find that you still have a raging hard-on sticking out of your boxer shorts. Your mind may not know, Bob, but I'd say your body knows very well how it feels about this situation."

She was absolutely right. I was conflicted, my mind telling me that I was in big trouble, but my body was clearly responding with arousal. I just stood there, pants at my ankles, hard-on pushing my boxer shorts out. I glanced for a second to my right at Laura standing there, and I saw her mesmerized by what was going on, her eyes darting back and forth from Susan to me.

"Well, you don't need to answer for me, Bob, as I said I can clearly see for myself. You are definitely turned on by this, and I think I know why. It's because you're aroused by the thought of a strong, dominating woman -- one who is clearly better than you -- telling you what to do. That's it, isn't it?"

She had me pegged, and there was nothing I could do other than to say, "Yes, Professor Bascom."

She smiled back at me, just standing there with her arms folded, not saying a word, for what was probably only about 10 or 15 seconds, but felt like an hour. It was deadly quiet in the bathroom as Susan looked at me, and off in the distance I could hear the faint rumble of the other conference participants enjoying the reception. Oh, how I wished I hadn't been so smug about that and had just joined the others there. Then I never would have found myself standing half-naked in a women's room of a hotel, with Susan Bascom and one of her students watching me.

Finally, Susan said to Laura, "Okay, pet, now pull his boxers down to his ankles." Without hesitation, she put her hands on the waistband of my shorts and slowly yanked them down. They caught for a second on my erection, but she continued, pulling my cock painfully downward until it snapped back up as the waistband finally cleared it. She deposited them at my ankles, on top of my trousers.

I knew my face must have been beet red, the two women standing there looking at me like this. I was incredibly mortified at being here, but feared more the consequences of trying to extricate myself. I was fearful of what Susan would do if I didn't cooperate.

"Now isn't that a pretty picture, Bob standing there with his little penis sticking straight out. Don't you think so, sweetie?"

Laura, still standing next to me, said, "Yes, Professor Bascom, it is a pretty picture." I didn't get the impression that she was enjoying this one bit; in fact, she still looked scared herself of where this was going.

Susan reached behind her and grabbed the camera once again. I immediately thought, "Oh god, no, not a picture of me like this." But I knew there was nothing I could do about it at this point. Susan raised the camera and held it a few inches from her face so she could see the screen. I saw the lens rotate in and out as she checked the zoom, and then once again the flash went off.

Susan glanced at the screen for a few seconds and then smiled and said, "Yes, just lovely. You're going to continue to cooperate with me, aren't you Bob? You wouldn't want me to send this to a few of your department colleagues would you, or perhaps Sarah?"

Knowing I was utterly defeated, all I could say was, "Yes, Professor Bascom, I will cooperate with you."

Susan put the camera in her purse and snapped it shut. "Okay, now come here, pet." Laura walked over to her, and Susan said, "Now take off my jacket and scarf for me." As Susan said this, the image I had formed in my mind of her sitting in that toilet stall, Laura kneeling in front of her, came back into my head. I wondered if I were going to have an opportunity to see what had been I had been unable to spy a few minutes ago. The thought further aroused me, making my hard-on stick out even further.

Laura walked behind her, eased the jacket off her shoulders, and carefully folded it and placed it on one of the chairs. It was clear she had done this with Susan's clothes numerous times before. She went back to Susan, and gently undid the knot of her scarf and took it from her neck.

"Thank you, sweetie. Now be a good girl and tie it around Bob's eyes, will you?"

"Yes, ma'am," she responded, and for the first time I thought I noticed a hint of a smile on her face. She walked behind me, scarf in hand, and I felt the cool silk over my eyes as she pulled it tightly and tied the knot behind my head. I could see very little other than some light coming in through the top and bottom of the scarf, but looking straight ahead I could see nothing.

"And now my skirt, pet," I heard Susan's voice say, and felt Laura walk by me back toward Susan. I heard the rustling of fabric again, and felt Laura's presence as she went back toward the chair, presumably to place the skirt with the jacket. "Just sit down on the edge of the couch," Susan told her.

Again, it was quiet in the room for a moment, and then I felt Susan walk by me toward the sofa. It sounded like she sat down, and I heard a soft sigh emanate from her lips. "Okay Bob, turn around, face the sound of my voice, and take two steps forward," she said.

I turned and shuffled forward, being careful not to trip with my pants and boxers clumped around my ankles. I stood there, waiting quietly, hearing nothing but the soft breathing coming from the two women.

"Now kneel, and lean your body forward slightly, spreading your arms wide and putting them on the sofa."

I did as she said, understanding now what was going to happen. As I put my arms down, I felt a soft silk-like material enveloping my head. I realized it must have been the slip that Susan was wearing under her skirt. As it rested on my head, the musky scent of Susan's arousal hit my nostrils. It was quite evident that she too was turned on by what she was doing. I just stayed there, arms on either side of her legs, leaning forward with my head what must have been not more than a few inches from her crotch.

She just kept me there like that, not saying a word. Underneath her slip, I could not even hear her or Laura's breathing. Again, it seemed like an hour that I was in that position, but it could not have been more than a minute.

Finally, I heard her voice again. "Okay Bob, now it's time for you to learn a few things. It's time for you to understand that I am in control, and that you are at my mercy. Think of yourself as one of my graduate students, my dear, whose fate and future is entirely in my hands. If you are good and do as I say, then you will be rewarded. But if you are bad, your career will be ruined. Do you understand?"

Once again, all I could say was, "Yes, Professor Bascom."

She hesitated a few seconds, and then she said, "Now lean further forward and begin licking."

The scent of her arousal was overpowering. I knew she must have been highly turned-on from the ministrations Laura had been performing on her when I caught them in the bathroom, and it was clear that her catching me and now dominance of me (along with Laura) was taking her to a more heightened state.

"Come on Bob, I told you to do something," Susan commanded in a stern voice. I knew I had no choice but to continue doing what she told me, as I could not risk what she could do to my career if she chose to expose me for spying on her and Laura in the women's room.

I did as she had commanded, leaning forward as my hands were spread out on either side of her legs resting on the couch. This brought my face in contact with her panties, which as soon as I felt them I could tell were an expensive silk variety. The first touch also confirmed the state of her arousal, as they were absolutely soaked through. I tentatively stuck my tongue out, touching it to the sodden material. I drew my tongue up toward the top of her slit, then downward, and continued this pattern a few times. As I did this, I realized that her panties were pressed tightly against her labia, with apparently no pussy hair propping them up off of her crotch. Somehow I was not surprised to learn that Susan was clean shaven down there.

"That's a good, boy, now a little bit harder," I heard Susan say as I continued.

Something in her tone of voice or her choice of words hit me, and I began to pull out from underneath her skirt. But as soon as I removed my tongue from her panties, I heard her hiss, "Did I tell you to stop? Now get back there and do as you're told or there will be hell to pay, Bob. Just do everything I tell you and you'll get out of here with your reputation intact, I promise."

Then she added in a lighter tone with a chuckle, "But no promises about your manhood and pride."

Resigned to my fate, I returned to what I had been doing, now applying more pressure to her slit as I continued up and down. It was hard to believe it could happen, but her panties seemed to be getting even wetter as I continued, almost dripping with her secretions, causing the air under her skirt to become even more fetid.

I felt her scoot her ass forward a bit, bringing her crotch into even stronger contact with my tongue and face. I felt her body relaxing also, as she lay back further into the couch and spread her legs a bit more, pushing my hands even wider on the outside of them. It was becoming difficult to maintain my balance, and my knees were getting quite sore. This made me think of what Laura had been doing to Susan in the stall just a few minutes ago, and I was thankful that at least I had carpeting underneath my knees.

"That's better, my boy, you're doing a much better job now. You're obviously somewhat experienced at oral service, aren't you?" I heard her saying. I figured it was a rhetorical question, and saw no need to reply, so I simply continued rubbing my tongue up and down her panties. They were now so wet that as I did this they were getting pushed between her plump pussy lips, which I could easily feel on either side of my tongue.

"Just divine, my Pet. I wish you could feel how lovely this is, Laura -- he's quite a good pussy licker I must say. I bet Sarah has you doing this a lot, doesn't she Bob?" she asked. Again, I didn't answer, a little worried that she was bring my wife into the discussion. But then I heard her say, "I asked you a question, but I recognize it's a little hard for you to answer given your current position. Tell you what -- just nod your head up and down a little if the answer is 'yes,' okay?" I moved my head up and down enough that I knew she could see the movement.

I heard her reply, "I thought so -- I suspected from my e-mail conversations with Sarah that you'd be very good at this."

Hearing this, I froze -- what the hell did she mean, "e-mail conversations with Sarah"? I knew she and Sarah had occasionally e-mailed with each other since they had met at a couple of academic conferences, but I never suspected that our sex life was a topic of their discussion.

"Oh, are you a little shocked to hear that we e-mail about this, Bob? Well, you'd be surprised at the things that we girls like to chat about. But please do get back to work, I didn't tell you to stop."

I simply sighed and continued licking her. I could only imagine what they had been chatting about. Sarah was a very sexual permister, and we enjoyed a great sex life -- including lots of oral sex -- and I knew that she was certainly comfortable talking about sex. So I was not totally shocked to hear that she may -- if Susan was telling the truth -- have discussed our sex life with Susan via e-mail.

"Laura, you simply can't imagine how nice this is. A distinguished professor like Bob here, on his knees, lapping away at my panty-covered pussy in a woman's room. Maybe we could arrange for you to experience it too," she said with a laugh. "But I'll tell you what -- for now, maybe I can just give you a better view of the proceedings." With that, I felt the material lifted off of my head as Susan pulled her skirt up and evidently must have bunched it up around her waist.

The cool air felt good, as it had gotten quite hot and stuffy underneath the skirt. It also let some of the scent of her arousal out, so that I was not quite as overwhelmed by that heady aroma. But my sense of relief was replaced by a sense of shame as I realized that Laura now had a very clear view of my tongue running up and down Susan's panties. I heard Susan sigh as she leaned a bit further back into the couch.

"Isn't he lovely, kneeling there attending to me, Laura?"

"Yes, Professor Bascom," she replied.

"Oh, come girl, you can do better than that. Tell me what you think of what you're watching?"

There was no reply for a few seconds, as Laura was clearly contemplating what an appropriate response would be. I then heard her say with a slight giggle, "It does appear that he's quite good at what he's doing, and not only that, but he's enjoying it too. Look at his penis."

As she said this, it brought my attention back to the fact that I still had quite an erection. I had long since passed the point of fear and shame, and was now just responding to the physical sensations as well as the psychological toll of being dominated by Susan.

"Oh yes, I see what you mean," Susan laughed back. "He does seem to have quiet a raging hard-on, don't you Bob?" I nodded again to acknowledge that I heard what she said.

"But now I want to feel you a little more directly, my sweet, so let's have you get that tongue around my panties and directly on my pussy, shall we?"

Hearing this I began to lean back on my haunches and removed my hands from the sofa in order to use them to pull down her panties. But before I got too far I heard Susan's stern voice say, "Stop -- I didn't tell you to move did I?" I froze and then returned to the position I had been in, leaning back forward again.

"You don't need to use your hands to do that, now do you Bob?" she said. "Use that dexterous tongue of yours to move my panties out of the way."

By this point my tongue was actually getting quite tired, but I knew I had no choice. I moved it over to the side of her panties and stiffened it in order to push them aside. As wet as they were, it was still difficult to move them enough to provide me with freer access to her pussy lips. She recognized my difficulty, and scooted around a bit, which helped loosen up her panties from her body. With some continued effort, I was able to move them aside enough that her big lips both popped out from the side of the panties.

"Ah, that's much better, my Pet. You should now be able to do a much better job. Let's see if you can help me cum."

With the panties now at least partially out of the way I was able to get my tongue all over her labia. Confirming what I had suspected when I had first started, there was absolutely no pubic hair anywhere. She was perfectly smooth, without a trace of razor stubble. I gently sucked on each of her luscious lips, pulling each away from her crotch, running my tongue all over it. She was right -- I had had a lot of experience going down on Sarah, and truth was, it was one of my favorite activities. And I knew from the way Sarah responded and from what she told me that I was very good at it. I hoped that if I was able to satisfy Susan that this would be the end of the entire affair. It would be an awful memory, but I prayed that it was just a bit of fun for her and she'd never speak of it again. And I trusted that she had enough control over Laura and her future that Laura would never speak of it to anybody if Susan told her not to.

So I concentrated on satisfying Susan, using all the tricks in my cunnilingus textbook to try to bring her to an orgasm. After sucking on her lips, I dove my tongue as deep as I could get into her pussy, touching the walls on either side. I then began to pay attention to her clit, lightly tonguing it, but was having difficulty because her panties kept getting in the way.

Susan must have sensed my problem, because I felt her sit upright a bit and heard her say, "Come here Laura, sweetie, I need your help." I heard Laura rise from her chair, and as she did so, Susan said to me, "Okay, Bob, you can sit back for a second."

I did as she told, relishing the opportunity to give my knees and tongue a break. As I pulled back and sat on my haunches, I could feel the cool air on my face, which was absolutely dripping from Susan's pussy juice.

As I felt Laura approach us, Susan said, "Okay honey, help me out here, will you? First of all, take off Bob's blindfold for him."

I felt Laura stand in front of me, between the two of us. As she did, I thought I could smell her arousal also. I couldn't be sure, but I swore it was a slightly different scent from what I had been experiencing with Susan. I didn't know if Laura was still in a state of shock, fear, or arousal, but given the olfactory evidence I thought I had encountered, I guessed it was the latter.

Laura reached down and pulled the scarf off of my head without untying it. I was blinded for a second as my eyes adjusted to the light of the bathroom. As my pupils shrank again, I looked straight ahead into Susan's crotch.

This provided me with the first opportunity to see clearly the target of all my attention. I could see that Susan's panties were a bright red color, though the wetness had turned the front of them almost maroon. They were askew, yanked partially to one side from my efforts, and I could see her plump pussy lips sticking out. As I had felt with my tongue, she was smooth and I contemplated for just a brief second how a woman could get herself that way. Sarah usually kept her pussy hair well trimmed, and on rare occasions had actually shaved completely, but there always seemed to be some stubble. I didn't know whether Susan waxed, or had laser treatments or what, but she was absolutely smooth with no trace of hair.

I must have been fixated, staring at her, because Susan, "Enjoying the view, Bob?"

I jerked my head up, meeting her eyes with a guilty look on my face. It reminded me of times when I had been talking to a young student and caught myself inadvertently staring at her breasts.

As I now looked at her, I realized that at some point she must have unbuttoned her blouse, because the top three or four buttons were undone and the blouse was pushed aside enough to allow her two large, bra-encased breasts to be seen. The bra was a matching red to her panties and was trimmed with lace, and it displayed prominent nipples trying to poke through the silk material. The arousal that was so evident in her pussy was clearly echoed in her breasts.

"I said, are you enjoying the view Professor Arnold?" she repeated. As she said this, she reached a hand inside one of the cups of her bra and began to finger her nipple, rolling it around. It responded by becoming even larger than it was before, pushing against the red silk of the bra.

Not knowing how to respond to her question, I simply shrugged my shoulders.

Susan laughed and said, "Oh, you don't have to answer that question. I know you well enough to know that you are enjoying it -- you're cock gives you away so transparently. You're just a pussy-loving little Pet, aren't you."

At this all I could do was look downward, so as not to have to look at her eye to eye as she humiliated me.

She laughed again and turned to Laura. "Will you pull these off of me, sweetie -- they have gotten so wet and they're just getting in the way now." I looked up again as I saw Laura move over and stand between us. She reached forward as Susan lifted her plump ass off of the sofa for a moment and moved her legs back together. As she had done with me, Laura put both hands on the sides of Susan's panties and began moving them down her thighs. They were so wet that they just rolled up as they came down Susan's legs and Laura gently pulled Susan's still-clad feet out from them.

"You can go sit down now, sweetie, thank you," Susan instructed. As Laura went back to her chair, Susan's silk panties in one hand and her scarf in the other, Susan re-spread her legs and I could now see her pussy in all its glory. Perfectly smooth, with plump, bright pink lips. Moisture was glistening everywhere; she had obviously been so aroused that not even her panties and the action of my tongue had sopped it all up. As I said, I enjoyed performing oral sex on women, and I loved the look of a woman's sex, especially when it was aroused. I had not had sex with a lot of women before I met Sarah, but had had enough that I enjoyed the variety of the surprise that awaited you when you saw that part of a woman for the first time.

Susan's voice snapped me out of my reverie. "What are you waiting for Bob, get back here. Let's get going, who knows when they're going to need this bathroom again," she laughed.

Responding to her command, I again leaned forward on my knees and began to move my hands to either side of her legs to rest them on the couch. But before I could complete this, she said, "No, wait -- let's do it a little differently this time."

I stopped and sat back again. As I did, Susan said, "Come on your knees a bit closer, Bob." I scooted forward, a difficult proposition given that my knees were very sore and my trousers and boxers were still around my ankles.

"That's good. Now Laura, c'mon back here for a second." Laura did as she was told, and walked the few steps back to us. "Now, hon, take that lovely scarf of mine and tie Bob's hands behind his back for me."

Now I was afraid this was going too far. I had awful thoughts of being tied up and left by the two of them in the bathroom, only to be found by somebody else from the conference. I opened my mouth in protest, but upon the first word out of my mouth, Susan interrupted me.

She must have been reading my mind. "Now, now Bob, don't get too upset. I'm not going to do anything to put you in any danger. We just want to have a little fun with you, don't we Laura?" she said, turning to her graduate student. Laura just smiled and nodded. "I promise if you finish up what I ask you to do here nobody other than the three of us will ever know what transpired here."

I again began to say something, but Susan quickly turned back to me and once again hissed, "Do as I say Bob, or you'll be very sorry." She had me, and I knew it. I couldn't risk what she would do to expose what had happened in here so I had no choice but to comply.

"Okay, Laura, go ahead." With that instruction, Laura walked around behind me, as I resignedly put my wrists behind my back. She untied the knot that had held the scarf in place as a blindfold, placed one wrist over the other, and wrapped the scarf a few times around both of them. I then felt her tie a double knot, pulling it snug, not so much to cut off the circulation but clearly tight enough that I could not get them out.

"Good, now do me one more favor and go get the camera again."

I heard Laura walk to the counter and then back again and as she came into view I saw she had the camera in hand.

"Thank you, my dear, but I think there's one more thing we need. Please bring my panties over here."

Laura now walked back to the chair in which she had been sitting, and I realized that she had left the panties on the floor next to it. She bent over, giving me a nice view of her tight ass encased in her snug pants. Once again, my mind flashed back to what she had been doing to Susan in the toilet stall when I was spying on them.

She brought the panties back to us and stood there waiting for her instructions. Susan looked at her, then back at me. She seemed to be thinking for a second, and then a smile crossed her face.

"Put them around his neck, love," she said with a flourish.

"Pardon me, Professor Bascom?" Laura replied.

"You heard what I said, Laura. Put them around his neck." As Laura comprehended the command, a little smile crossed her face also. She took the panties, opening them up and stretching them enough to get one of the leg holes and then the waist over my head. She drew it down, and let them rest around my neck as if they were a prized necklace. I felt the wetness on my neck, and their odor wafted up to my nose once again.

"Thank you hon. Okay Bob, let's try this again. Now lean forward and I want you to continue what you began before," Susan instructed.

I did as I was told, though it was a bit awkward without the use of my hands to brace myself. As my head approached her crotch, the angle powerd my face even more tightly then before against her pussy. I was greeted again by her scent and wetness, neither of which had abated much in the few moments since I had last been in this proximity to her. As I began once again to lick, this time unconstrained by her panties, I heard her say to Laura, "Get a picture of this, will you hon?"

I knew enough not to protest, as it would do no good. I was resigned to the situation and knew I had no option. I had to trust that she would follow through on her word, that nobody else would ever find out about this.

"Pick your head up a bit and turn to Laura for a second please Bob," Susan instructed. I tried to push back, but given the angle I was at, it was a difficult proposition. However, by pushing heavily with my thighs and ankles, I was able to get my head up enough to be able to rest it on Susan's thigh and turn it so that I could now see Laura. "Now smile so that Laura can take a nice picture of us, will you?"

This was impossible -- there was no way I could power a smile in the situation. Susan must have realized this and taken pity on me, as she laughed and said to Laura, "Oh, just take the picture, Pet. Make sure you get both of our faces in the shot as well as Bob's pretty necklace and wrist bonds."

As I looked at Laura she picked the camera up and pointed it at us. Once again, I saw the lens rotate in and out as she operated the zoom. My mind flashed for a second to what the picture would look like -- both of us naked from the waist down, me with my pants and boxers at my ankles, Susan with her suit skirt bunched up at her waist and her large breasts encased in her red silk bra. And all topped off by her sodden panties around my neck and her scarf on my wrists. All I could think about was how I'd gotten myself in this situation and what anybody -- including my colleagues, my students, and even Sarah -- would think if they viewed the picture!

I blinked as the bright flash of the camera filled the room, and Susan said, "Thank you dear. Please come over and sit next to me. And you Bob, can get back to work."

I rolled my head back off of her thigh, leaned in again to her crotch, and began licking. At this point, with all that had transpired, I wanted nothing other than to get her off and get this over with. Any initial titillation and pleasure I had received in being dominated by her was now being replaced by fear and trepidation of what could happen to me if this ever got out.
I again sucked on her pussy lips, first one, then the other, and then began running my tongue over each. I could feel her body begin to respond again and I could hear her breathing getting heavy. I began to feel like I could see the end of this whole ordeal, and Susan confirmed this by saying in a soft voice, "Very good, Bob, you're doing just fine." I felt Susan's hands on the back of my head, pulling my face even tighter into her crotch.

I turned my attention to her clit, lightly running my tongue around it. I knew that most women didn't like it too hard there at first, but preferred the pressure to be built up as they became more and more aroused. As I did this, I could feel her secretions begin running down my face as she got wetter and wetter.

Once again, I heard Susan speak in a soft voice. "Laura, be a dear and help me out." I couldn't see what she was doing, but felt the top of her body lean forward a bit. She removed her hands from the back of my head and I thought perhaps I was going to get a brief reprieve from the intense pressure of my face against her pussy.

As I continued my attention to her clit, I felt Laura moving a bit next to us on the couch. I heard the rustling of fabric and felt something fall next to me on the floor. I could not see what it was, but I then heard Susan say, "Ah, that's much better. Always nice to set the girls free," and she giggled like a school girl. I realized that she must have removed her hands from my head only to allow Laura to take her blouse and bra off and slip the shoulder straps off of her arms.

"You know what to do now, don't you Pet?" Susan said. At first I didn't know if she was talking to me or to Laura, but then I heard Laura reply, "Yes, ma'am."

"Would you like a little break, Bob? I bet your neck must be getting sore." I was happy to take a little break, so I nodded my head up and down a bit. "Okay, sit back again."

Once again I used my thighs and ankles to push myself back on my haunches. As I did, I saw that what I had suspected Laura had done to Susan was true. Susan's blouse and bra were now totally removed, leaving her naked from the waist up, and Laura must also have pulled her skirt up over her head. Her breasts were just magnificent; they were quite large (I've learned not to try to guess a woman's cup size), befitting her overall voluptuous body. They were topped with areolas the size of half dollars, a mocha brown in color, and perfectly smooth, no bumps in them at all. In the center of each were the nipples that I had seen just a few moments ago trying to push their way through the silk bra. They were fully erect, or at least what I expected were fully erect, and they were just lovely, the kind that you couldn't wait to get your lips on.

Susan lay back against the couch with what appeared to be a self-satisfying grin on her face. She was clearly a woman who knew she had a certain allure to men and women alike. She was by no means model beautiful, and was much more Rubenesque than most people's standard definition of the perfect female body. But for a woman of close to 50, she was just magnificent. Yes, she carried quite a few pounds, but her large frame held it well. Her skin was magnificent, with no folds, wrinkles, or stretch marks. It was an alabaster white and looked to be creamy smooth. And her body type was exactly that to which I was attracted.

My admiration of this goddess was interrupted once again by her voice. "You just take a little breather for a moment Bob and watch." Turning to Laura, she said, "Okay, Pet, go ahead."

Laura had obviously been in this position a number of times before. She turned slightly toward Susan, and bent her head down and gently fastened her lips upon Susan's right nipple. Susan's eyes closed and her head reclined on the back cushion of the couch as she enjoyed her graduate student's oral s*******s. I watched as Laura lifted her lips from the nipple and began using her tongue all over the top half of the breast. She licked as if it were a large ice cream cone, flattening her tongue to maximize its surface contact with Susan's breast.

As I watched this unfold, I began to think less about my own predicament and focused more on the eroticism of the action. Here was a young, impressionable graduate student, whose career was almost entirely dependent upon her mentor, Professor Bascom, worshipping her large breast as if it were the most beautiful thing she could do. And Susan Bascom just lay there, enjoying all the attention, seemingly oblivious at that point to my voyeurism of what was unfolding.

After licking all over the top of the breast, Laura took both her hands and gently lifted the orb away from Susan's body. This exposed its underside, and in a very tender fashion, Laura began licking the spot where the breast was attached to her body. She ran her tongue in a circular mode, all the way around the outside of the breast, slowly working her way inward toward the nipple. When she got to the nipple, she released the breast to flop back down to Susan's body, and began to lightly flick at the nipple. Much to my surprise, it grew even a bit more, becoming even larger than I had seen before.

I didn't want to play this game, putting the young woman's fate in my hands. I simply shrugged and said, "Do whatever you want, Susan -- you're going to do so anyway, so what difference does it make what I say?"

Susan frowned a bit and said, "Oh Bob, I'm so disappointed. You know I value your professional opinion as a colleague. We're both successful professors -- well, truth be told, we both know that I've had a lot more success than you have -- so why wouldn't I want to have you weigh in on this?"

Her throwing her achievements in my face stung. She must have known that there had always been a little professional jealousy of her on my part, and she was using that to add to my offense. But I refused to play along with this little game, and replied, "Sorry, Susan, but this isn't my area of expertise -- you're on your own here."

She at first looked perturbed at my ***ness to play along, and I momentarily fretted that I had made her even more cross with me. But then she simply laughed and turned back to Laura, telling her, "Don't you fret, my sweet Pet, I'll take care of you. Don't I always?"

Laura looked up at her with a look of adoration in her eyes and said, "Yes, ma'am, you do."

"That's right, I do, and I promise you I will. But not quite yet -- we've got something else to do first. Sit up here, hon." Laura lifted herself off of Susan's thighs, and sat next to her on the couch, her slacks and panties still at her ankles.

Turning to me, she said, "Bob, get back here and continue where you left off," opening up her thighs once again. I sighed, and leaned forward to return myself to my previous position with my head pressed against her pussy.

She was just as wet as she was before, even though it had been a while since I had been licking her. Her dominance of Laura clearly turned her on, and her body showed that. As I began licking, I heard her say to Laura, "Go over and untie his hands, Pet."

I felt Laura lifting off the couch, then felt her fingers on my wrists as she undid the knot. I brought my hands back to my side and prepared to rest them once again on the couch to brace myself and provide more support, but Susan said, "No Bob, leave them by your side, you're going to need them. I did as she commanded, and I once again felt Laura sitting on the couch next to her.

I was working on Susan's plump labia again, running my tongue over them, when I heard her say, "Spread your legs out honey." She must have complied, because Susan then said, "See Bob, I told you I'd take care of her. I'm sitting here fingering her sweet young pussy while you work on me."

I of course couldn't see what she was doing, but could picture what it must have looked like, with Susan's finger or fingers pistoning out of Laura's pussy now, rather than her ass. It was an image that I liked envisioning, and could only wish that I was watching exactly what she was doing.

"But there's one thing missing, isn't there Bob?" Susan said. I had no idea what the hell she was talking about, so I sort of grunted and continued licking up and down her slit.

"That's right, what's missing is your orgasm, isn't it? I wouldn't want you to feel left out now, would I? I want to be fair -- with all this pussy licking you've been doing, which I know you love, plus your watching of me playing with my little Pet here, you must be badly in need of cumming yourself."

I didn't want to admit it, but she was right. I had been aroused for quite some time, and even given the perverse circumstances in which I found myself, the release that an orgasm would bring would be very welcome.

"So let me help you out, Bob. Sit up for a second." I pushed myself back once again, and could now see Laura sitting next to her with her legs splayed and Susan's middle three fingers on her right hand in Laura's pussy. She removed them, and leaned forward and grabbed hold of my erect cock. She rubbed her hand around it a couple of times, and I thought she was going to jerk me off like that. The idea of her doing that -- jerking me off like a young school boy -- while this graduate student watched was mortifying. But after what must have been an hour of arousal (I had lost track of the time at this point), my cock responded positively to her touch.

But just as she was getting started, she stopped. She leaned back on the sofa again and placed her fingers back into Laura's pussy, squishing them around. She looked back at me and said with a smirk, "Okay, Bob get your face back in there and start jerking yourself."

The realization of what she was telling me to do stung me like a slap across the face. "What," I shouted, "I can't do that."

"Oh yes, Bob, you not only can but you will," she replied calmly. "Now get started."

I stared at her, tempted to just get up, get my clothes on, and stomp out leaving Susan and her little plaything there on the couch. But as quickly as the idea came into my head, it exited. I knew I couldn't do that because of the fear of what she'd do in return. I just continued to stare at her, until she cocked the index finger of her left hand and began beckoning to me in a "come here" sign. Defeated, I knew that I had no choice, and I bent forward and resumed licking her.

"That's right Bob, keep going, because you're going to stay right there where you are until I see you cum. But you better be good, because you need to make sure that both Laura and I cum first. If not, there's going to be hell to pay. So start spanking the ol' monkey, "she said with a laugh.

Utterly shamed, I did what I was told by this domineering colleague. I resumed licking her, pushing my tongue deep into her pussy, as I began to run my hand up and down my shaft. Laura's pussy secretions had lubricated it enough that my hand ran easily up and down with little resistance. As I was doing this, I could hear the squishing of Laura's pussy as Susan must have been pistoning her fingers even more vigorously in and out.

After a few more minutes of this I could feel that I was getting close to an orgasm. I sensed that Susan was close too, based on the heavy breathing I could feel and the fact that her thighs were clamping my head more and more strongly. I had no idea how close Laura was though, so I was trying my best to hold back on my own orgasm. I lightened my stroke, but Susan caught me, saying, "No, Bob, don't let up, keep touching yourself."

I complied, and after a few more moments I heard Laura go, "Please, let me cum, let me cum, Mistress."

Susan replied, "Go ahead, Pet, go ahead and cum for your Mistress," and not more than 5 seconds later I heard Laura scream out, "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh, gawwwwwwwd." Again, I was terrified that somebody in the corridor could hear us, but I took some solace in the knowledge that at least the door was locked.

I knew I was close and could only hope that Susan was also. I turned my attention to her clit and began working it with a vengeance. By now I knew that she was aroused enough that I could lick it and suck it hard to bring her to an orgasm. And sure enough, after about a minute of this, I could feel her cumming. She clamped down hard on my head between her thighs, and her pussy spasmed as she let out an "Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh."

And then a gush of fluid soaked my face as she came and squirted all over me. I lightened up on her clit as she came down, but continued stroking myself as I knew that I too was past the point of no return. Just a few seconds later, I came myself, squirting cum all over the carpeting of the bathroom. Susan's thighs opened, releasing me finally from her crotch. I sat back, her pussy juice dripping off of my face, underneath her panties and on to my shirt, my cum pooled in front of me.

I looked over at Laura, who was still lying back against the couch with her legs splayed out. She too had a small pool of liquid between her legs on the fabric of the couch.

Susan opened her eyes and looked at me. "Very good, Professor Arnold. I'd give that performance a very high rating," she said with a smirk. "I think he's fulfilled his obligations, don't you, Pet?" she asked turning to Laura.

Laura smiled slightly and said, "Yes, ma'am."

I stared at Susan and said, "Is that it? Is your little game over now? I did everything I asked, so are you going to fulfill your end of the bargain and promise not to say or show anything to anybody?"

Susan just looked back at me for a few seconds, seemingly thinking about something. "Yes, Bob, you did do everything I've asked. You can get up and get dressed. You too Laura."

I got up and tried my best to put myself back together. I fixed my shirt and put my sport coat back on. After pulling my pants up, I remembered I had her damn panties around my neck. I pulled them up off my head and reached out to hand them to her as she was dropping her suit skirt back down her legs. She had already put her bra and blouse on.

She looked at my hand and her panties, then looked me in the eyes. "Oh, Bob, you can keep those as a souvenir for now."

"I don't want a souvenir of this, Susan," I said coldly back to her.

"Oh yes you do," she replied with a smile, "you just don't know it yet."

"What do you mean, 'yet'," I asked her.

"Well, we still have a few days left in this conference, don't we. I don't need them now but may in a day or two, so I think I'll have you return them to me later. I'll let you know when I want to see you again to get them back."

I was dumbfounded. I watched as she and Laura walked over to the vanity and began fixing their hair and make-up.

"And Bob -- don't think about leaving early. I know you have a paper to give on the last day of the conference, so I'll expect you to be here the whole time."

With that, the two of them grabbed their purses, walked to the door, unlocked it, and left.

I woke up the next morning after a fitful night of relax. I at least had remembered to set the alarm, which was an amazing accomplishment considering the mental state I was in. I had a paper to give that day, so couldn't just relax in and relax off what had happened.

I dragged my body out of bed and headed for the shower. The hotel room had one of those large bathrooms with both a tub and a separate stall shower, and I opted for the latter. Even though I had just taken a shower the night before, I decided that I needed another to jumpstart my day. After the water heated up, I hopped in and let the hot jets stream all over my body. As I did this, the events of the last evening began running through my head all over again. I shook my head as my encounter with Professor Susan Bascom came back to my consciousness.

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

After Susan and her graduate student, Laura, left the bathroom, I just stood there for a minute or two stunned and unable to move. I couldn't believe I had managed to get myself in that position, of having been caught spying on them in the women's room of the hotel. Susan proceeded to blackmail me into servicing her sexually right there in the bathroom, threatening to expose me if I didn't do what she had said.

Finally, after a minute or two, I walked over to the sinks and cleaned myself up as best I could. I splashed cold water on my face and front of my hair, and wiped it off with a paper towel. I looked in the mirror and realized I still looked ragged, but decided I was presentable enough that I could pass if I managed to bump into anybody after I left the bathroom. I was planning on going right up to my room but wanted to be prepared just in case.

I walked over to the door and when I got there I realized that it was now unlocked, Susan and Laura having exited a couple of minutes earlier. I opened the door just a crack to peek out and make sure nobody was in the small corridor leading to the bathrooms. I didn't see anybody, so I quickly opened the door wide enough to pop out. The door to the men's room was right nearby, so I knew I was now safe once the door to the women's room closed behind me. As I started walking back toward the lobby of the hotel, it dawned on me that the "Out of Service" sign that had been placed in front of the bathroom by the hotel employee was no longer there. "Damn," I muttered to myself. I realized that Susan must have moved it when she and Laura left the bathroom, leaving me exposed to anybody who could have walked in. I just shook my head and continued toward the elevators.

As I approached the elevators, I glanced to make sure Susan and Laura were not still there. The didn't want to have to ride the elevator with them, Susan assuredly smirking at me the whole way. They were already gone, so I pushed the button and waited. I looked at my watch; it was about 10:30, meaning that I must have been in that bathroom with them for about an hour.

An elevator quickly arrived, which I was thankful for, because the last thing I wanted to do besides bumping into Susan and Laura was to run into anybody else from the conference. I entered and pushed the button for my floor, and as the elevator ascended, I reached in my pocket to get my key. As I did, I felt the soft, wet silk of Susan's red panties in there, which caused me to think about Susan's parting words: "I'll let you know when I want to see you again to get them back."

I had no idea what she meant by that, but I was afraid that she was going to go back on her word. She had told me that if I had done everything she told me to, that neither she nor Laura would ever say anything to anybody about what had happened in that bathroom. Yet she told me to hold on to her panties and that she would get them from me later during the conference, a directive that caused me to think she had more things up her sleeve.

The elevator doors opened at my floor, and I exited and turned right toward my room. I glanced quickly over my shoulder to make sure that neither Susan nor Laura were at the other end of the hall, where their rooms were. With a sense of relief, I saw nobody else in the hall, and continued on down to my room and went inside. I quickly stripped off my clothes, emptying the pockets of my pants on the dresser. Susan's panties landed unceremoniously on top of my change, cell phone, and a roll of Life Savers. I stared at them for a second, then quickly grabbed them and threw them into the drawer of the dresser where I kept my own underwear. I buried them under my own boxers and socks.

I hopped into the shower in order to try to cleanse from my body, if not my mind, the memory of what had happened to me. I was both ashamed and confused; on the one hand, I was humiliated by getting caught by Susan and by what she had made me do. On the other, I had to recognize that I also had been incredibly turned on by the exercise. The fact that I had been aroused by being dominated by Susan didn't totally surprise me. My wife Sarah and I had played some role playing games before, some of which involved dominance and presentation. But those had only been games, and had been with my own wife. So the fact that I was so aroused as I was dominated and humiliated by Susan – and in front of her graduate student – was somewhat troubling to me.

I finished showering, dried off, brushed my teeth, and walked back into the room. I then did something I almost never did – I went into the minibar in my room and grabbed a nip of scotch. I threw some clothes on and went down the hall to fill up my ice bucket. When I returned, a put a few cubes in a glass and poured the scotch over it. I downed the scotch in about three gulps, almost causing me to fetish as it went down. At that point I figured a little self-medication would help me relax.

I got into bed and tossed and turned for a while, the activities of the evening running through my head. After what must have been an hour of this, I finally fell arelax.

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

Back in the shower the next morning, all I could think of was what Susan's intent was in leaving her panties with me. I wasn't sure whether she was just trying to tease me and make me nervous about what she might do, or whether she intended to continue what she had started in the women's room last night. In either event, I knew that I had few options other than to play along, because she had enough evidence that she could use to do great damage to me.

After the shower, I got dressed, putting on some respectable academic clothes for my paper session. I grabbed the stuff I needed and shoved it into my backpack and walked out the door. What I desperately needed was a cup of coffee and some sugar to cram into my mouth.

As I was closing the door, I remembered what Susan had said about telling me when she wanted her panties back. I had no clue when she was going to want them, but I decided the safest thing was to have them with me at all times. So I headed back into the room and found them where I had left them last night in the bottom of the drawer. As I picked them up, I realized that they were no longer wet, having dried overnight. I quickly sniffed them, partly out of curiosity and party from the memory of what I had done last night. They still smelled quite ripe, the memories of my subservience to Susan rushing once again into my brain. I quickly put them into one of the pockets of my pack and headed out once again.

I exited the elevator in the lobby and found my way to the ubiquitous Starbucks kiosk. Even though it was a small conference, there was still quite a line of fellow academics looking for that caffeine fix they so needed to make it through a day's worth of mind-numbing and tedious discussions of English – or more precisely, British – literature.

As I waited for the slow line to progress, I glanced around the lobby trying to see if Susan was anywhere in sight. I knew that I couldn't avoid her for the rest of the conference over the next few days, but I was going to work damn hard to minimize how many times I did have to see her. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief, as she didn't appear to be anywhere nearby.

After about five or six minutes, it was finally my turn to give my order to the Starbucks barista. The young woman must have been about 19 or 20, probably a college student earning a few extra dollars working here at the hotel. She was cute as a button, so I smiled at her and gave her my order, doing my flirting-with-the-young-college-student act that I enjoyed so much (and I hoped they enjoyed as well). As she smiled back and handed me my change, her hand grazed mine, and a little shiver ran down my spine. But I quickly realized there was probably no meaning behind it, and I mumred a "thank you," and went to the other end of the counter to pick up my large – excuse me, "Grande" – coffee and cinnamon roll.

I looked at my watch and realized I had just a few minutes to get to the meeting room where the first session I was going to attend was to be held. It wasn't the session where I had to give my paper, but nevertheless, I hated to walk in late to these things. As I turned away from the counter to head toward the meeting room, I bumped right into somebody walking by. I somehow managed to hold on to my coffee and roll, and only spilled a few drops through the sipping hole and onto the floor. As I recovered, I looked up at who the klutz was who almost ran me down, and I almost dropped the coffee and roll again when I realized it was Laura, Susan's graduate student.

She was gathering up a folder that she dropped, and when she arose again and looked at me, I saw that she was about as horrified to bump into me as I was to see her. She said, "I'm sorry, Professor Arnold," and quickly ran off before I could say anything in return. I turned and looked back at the people in the coffee queue who witnessed the run-in, and they all had an amused look on their face. They probably thought it was the typical terrified grad student, afraid that she had spilled coffee on a senior professor, and that she had just ruined her chances of ever landing a job. All I could think was, "If they only knew the truth."

I managed to make it to the meeting room without further incident. I entered, and found a seat on an aisle, not too far from the back. I found that these early morning sessions were usually lackluster, so I liked to position myself for a quick exit. I sat through the three papers, one of which was pretty bad, the other two at least interesting enough that I chose to stick around. The discussant's comments were, as usual, condescending and totally unhelpful, but the grad students giving their papers nodded seriously and graciously and thanked the pompous fool for his insightful (in their words) comments.

I felt sort of badly for one of the students, to whom the discussant had been particularly mean, so when the question and answer period opened up, I threw her a softball question. I started with my interpretation of what she had to say, then asked her if she agreed. She answered affirmatively, then elaborated a bit more on what she had written in the paper. When she finished, I smiled at her and said, "Thank you."

The moderator asked if there were other questions. I heard a clear, strong voice directly behind me say, "I beg to differ with Professor Arnold, but I have a slightly different take on your interpretation." I didn't have to turn around to know who it was – I immediately recognized Susan Bascom's voice. I hadn't seen her there when I came in so she must have entered the room after I did. I wanted to ignore her, but realized that would be so obvious to the 20 or so others in the room, many of whom were colleagues who knew both of us. So I turned slightly in my chair to look at her, and I gave her a curt smile. She gave me an even broader smile back, then turned back toward the woman giving the paper and continued with her question.

As Susan spoke, I looked at her once again. She was wearing one of her signature outfits, not unlike what I saw her in last night – low-cut blouse showing off her ample cleavage, expensive-looking silk scarf, and a skirt cut respectably above her knee. All was constructed to maximize the sexiness of her body. As I wrote earlier, she was by no means a thin woman, but she carried her weight quite well and she knew how to dress to look her best. Even though at 50 she was about a decade older than I was, I had to admit she still looked damn good. And I knew that she still turned heads among both the faculty and grad students at the conference.

The young woman listened to Susan's question and then respectfully answered it. Susan was very polite back, thanking her and complimenting her. I had no desire to interact with her when the session ended, so after one more question I discreetly turned and walked to the door in the back of the meeting room without making eye contact with her. I quietly opened it, left the room, and went to close it behind me. But before I could, I felt pressure pushing back on it, and I knew exactly who it would be. Sure enough, Susan pulled the door open and exited the room, giving me the same broad smile she had laid on me just a few minutes ago.

After she closed the door, Susan said, "Well, Bob, what did you think of that panel?"

All I could do was just stare at her, mouth agape, totally at a loss for words. Was she going to just carry on like nothing had happened last night?

"What's wrong, cat got your tongue?" she asked, this time in a much lower voice and with a clear twinkle in her eye. After I still did not respond, she said, "Or should I ask, pussy got your tongue?" With that, she laughed heartily and took a step closer to me, so that she was right in front of me. With her height, and her fashionable heels, she was probably an inch or two taller than me. She leaned in, and whispered in my ear, "You'll be hearing from me, pet – you still have something of mine you need to return, don't you?" As she said this, she reached down and grabbed hold of my balls through my trousers. I flinched and quickly looked around, terrified that somebody may have seen what she did. But I realized her body in front of mine camouflaged what was going on, so to anybody watching it would just appear she was whispering something to me.

She squeezed again, and I quickly whispered back to her, "Yes, I know." She released her grip, smiled once again, and continued on down the hallway, leaving me in her wake. I just stood there, glued to the spot, staring at her well-curved ass as it retreated.

After a few seconds I shook my head and thought to myself, "Is this going to be what the next few days will be like, random encounters with Susan and Laura?" I had no desire for this, and thought for a second maybe I should just leave the conference. But I had my paper to give later today, never mind one on the last day and I was also the discussant on another panel. And I had Susan's admonition about not leaving the conference early – I was not about to take a chance on inciting her wrath, not knowing exactly how far she would go with the evidence she held against me. After realizing this, I headed back toward the lobby for another round with the barista at Starbucks. Nothing like a good shot of caffeine – though I started thinking that scotch would taste pretty good right now – to help get you through the day.

I headed back to the lobby for a cappuccino this time (though the cute college student was gone), and then proceeded on to the next session. The papers in this one were only a slight improvement from the last, but at least Susan was not stalking me in this session also. I ran into a colleague from the west coast, Marnie Carney whose company I enjoyed quite a bit, so it was nice to see her again. Yes, I know, that is her real name! We were in grad school together, and she was already married when I first met her. For the life of me, I never understood why she took her husband's name when it would result in a rhyme like that, but she did. The irony is that she divorced him a few years after getting her Ph.D., but since she had started her academic career and publishing under that name, she had little choice but to keep it. I had always been attracted to Marnie, but by the time she was divorced I was already married to Sarah. I still enjoyed spending time with her the few opportunities we had to get together at various conferences and meetings.

Marnie and I had lunch after that session, getting caught up on each other's lives, the office gossip – the usual, who was turned down for tenure, who was hot on the job market, which of our colleagues were relaxing with their students, etc. (needless to say, I stayed away from the topic of Susan Bascom) – and I found it was a great distraction from all that had gone on in the last day. We parted with plans to have dinner the next night to continue the discussion.

My paper session was right after lunch, so I found my way to that room. As the session started, I quickly scanned the room, expecting to see Susan. I thought maybe she'd take the opportunity to try to humiliate me in public, albeit this time in a more appropriate manner. Somewhat to my surprise, and admittedly, perhaps, my disappointment, she wasn't there. I managed to stumble through my paper without making too much of an idiot of myself. This discussant was a bit more polite than the earlier ones I had heard, though he clearly knew nothing about the subject of my paper (the influence of the Industrial Revolution on the development of young characters in the British novel in the late 19th century). I smiled and thanked him, which was the appropriate thing to do, then entertained a couple of questions from the audience. One or two fawning graduate students came up to me after the session to tell me how much they admired my work and just how influential it had been on their own. I was used to this academic bullcuckolds brownie – I knew the two of them were trying to grease the skids for when they went on the job market themselves, as my university was known as one of the plum places to work. I smiled, thanked them, and then made a hasty retreat.

By that time I had had enough; there is only so much time that you can sit and listen to people drone on about the British novel. So I headed back to my room. I knew the hotel had a pool, so I thought a nice late afternoon swim would be good to clear my head. As I exited the elevator on my floor, I quickly peeked to the left, not wanting to run into either Susan or Laura. There was nobody there, of course, and I realized I was being unduly paranoid.

I went on to my room, entered, and threw my backpack on the bed. As I started to take my clothes off, I noticed the red message light on the phone was blinking. I thought it might be Marnie calling to make plans for dinner the next evening, so I called the hotel's voicemail system, listened to the instructions, then punched in the codes to retrieve my messages. Instead of Marnie's voice, however, it was Susan's I heard through the telephone handset. "Tomorrow night, pet, 6:00pm, you'll return what you have of mine. Room 517."

"Damn," I thought, just after I had made plans with Marnie for tomorrow. She was leaving the following morning, and didn't want to miss the opportunity to have dinner with her. So I picked up the phone and dialed Susan's room, figuring I would get her voicemail.

"Hello," I heard her answer, much to my surprise.

I hesitated for a second, then said, "Susan, it's Bob."

"Oh, hi there Bob. You got my message, I presume?"

"Yes, I did, but I can't make it then, I made plans. . ." But before I could go any further, she cut me off.

"6:00pm tomorrow pet, and don't be late, or else." And with that she hung up the phone. I stood there holding the handset, just staring at it, infuriated at what she was doing to me. I slammed it back on the phone, changed into my bathing suit, and stormed down to the pool to try to take out my frustrations in some laps.

That evening and the next day went by in a blur. I couldn't focus on the awards banquet that evening, the speeches any of the recipients made, or any of the sessions I attended the next day. All I could think about was having to deal with Susan again. In the back of my mind I was hoping that I'd go to her room, return her panties, and she'd just laugh the whole thing off. But I suspected it was not going to be that easy.

In the morning I had called and left a message in Marnie's room, apologizing for having to cancel our dinner plans. I simply told her that something had come up, and we would get caught up with one another at the MLA convention.

Late in the afternoon I went back to the pool for a swim, then returned to my room and showered and changed. It was about 5:30, so I figured I would go through my e-mail before I headed off to Susan's room. I started scanning my e-mail, which contained the usual combination of spam (offers of Canadian haves, erection-producing pharmaceuticals, low-cost mortgages, and Nigerian lottery proceeds), questions from students, and administrative crap from my university that I immediately deleted. But then one message caught my eye; I didn't recognize the return address, which was from a Yahoo account, but the subject line said, "For you, pet."

I opened it up, and saw that it had an attachment, and started to hit the delete button, figuring it was just more spam. But then I saw the message:

"Bob,

Thought you would enjoy this little preview.

Professor Bascom"

I double-clicked on the attachment, which was a jpeg file, and a photograph filled my screen. I quickly saw that it was the picture that Susan had had Laura take of me two nights ago, naked and kneeling in front of her, with my hands tied behind my back. Thankfully, Susan had blanked out my face and hers, so you could not tell who it was in the picture, but I knew exactly who it was. I groaned, and immediately deleted the mail message. What did she mean by "preview," I thought, but I was afraid that it was not a good sign.

I looked at the clock next to the bed and saw that it was a few minutes before 6:00, so I grabbed Susan's panties out of my pack, and walked down the hall to her room. I knocked lightly on the door of room 517, and after a few seconds, it swung open. Much to my surprise, it wasn't Susan standing there, but Laura. "Oh crap," I thought, "I have to deal with both Susan and her." I muttered a "hello" to her and entered the room, as she closed the door behind me without saying a word.

As I walked into the room, I saw it was not just a regular hotel room, but was in fact a suite. I was a bit envious that Susan's university would pay for her to have a suite, when most of us struggled to convince our employers to reimburse us for the full cost of a regular room at one of these conference hotels.

I was standing in a large living area. It had a full size sofa, small round dining table with four chairs around it, a television, and a couple of other plush chairs to sit in. I saw too that she had a balcony with a chaise lounge and a nice view of the city. Over on the other side of the room was a small galley kitchen, and another room that looked like it must have been a bathroom off the living area. One more closed door must have led to the bedroom.

I looked at Laura, who was standing there silently looking back at me. Finally, when it became apparent that she wasn't going to say anything, I asked, "Where is Susan?"

"Professor Bascom will be out in a moment," she replied. "Would you like something to take while you wait?"

I thought about it for a second and then figured, "What the fuck." Might as well have something to help me get through whatever Susan had planned. Laura's offering of a take, in contrast to my interaction with her a couple of nights ago, gave me some slight hope that maybe this was going to be just a chance for the three of us to laugh about what had happened, and then it would be all over.

"I'll have a scotch on the rocks, if you have it," I told Susan's grad student as I sat down on the sofa. She turned and walked into the kitchen, opening a cabinet to retrieve a glass. She then opened another cabinet which I saw was well-stocked with four or five types of cuckold water, mixers, and assorted bar equipment. Now I was very envious of the accommodations Susan was enjoying. Clearly, her accomplishments had provided her with very nice treatment by her university.

Laura returned and handed me my take, sitting down after in one of the chairs. I sipped it a bit as she sat there looking at me. Finally, after a few moments, I said somewhat exasperated and sarcastically, "Do you know when Susan will be making her appearance?"

Just as I got it out of my mouth, the door of the bedroom area opened and Susan came into the room, closing the door behind her. She was dressed much more casually now, in what looked like some kind of silk dressing robe with a sash around her waist, and no shoes on.

"Well hello again Bob, thank you for joining us," she said with a smile, stopping a few feet in front of me and extending her hand. I stood up and shook her hand. "I apologize for my appearance, but I was running a little late and was just getting ready to jump into the shower when I realized what time it was. I had such a busy day today, running around here and there, going to sessions, getting caught up with people. You know how that is, don't you?"

"Yes, Susan, I do," I replied, not quite knowing how to gauge her tone and where she was going with the conversation.

"Excuse me, Bob, can you say that again, please?"

I stared, standing there a couple of feet in front of her, totally bewildered. I saw that without her heels on we were now about the same height. I thought what I had said was quite clear. But then I looked at her eyes, which were staring straight at mine, and I realized what she wanted.

"Yes, Professor Bascom, I do know how that is," I said.

A smile crossed her face as she released my hand. "Ah, much better, my pet, I'm glad you remember the proper way to address me."

I resisted the temptation to look over at Laura to see how she was reacting to this act, and simply sat down again. Susan grabbed one of the stuffed chairs next to Laura, facing me, and demurely sat down, crossing her legs and covering them as best as she could with the robe.

"Did you bring my panties back, Bob?"

"Yes, Professor Bascom, I have them," I replied, standing up and taking them out of my pocket.

"Bring them to me, please, pet."

I walked over to her and handed them to her, standing over her. From that angle I had a nice view of her ample cleavage down her robe. I thought I could see her nipples poking into the robe, but it was hard to tell among the soft folds of the silk.

She reached for the panties and looked at them, then lifted them to her nose and sniffed them for a second. With a look of disgust she threw them down on the floor about five feet away and shouted at me, "DID YOU THINK I WANTED THEM RETURNED TO ME DIRTY, YOU IDIOT?"

I almost jumped and hit the ceiling, shocked as I was to be yelled at by her. I didn't know what to say, so I mumred a "I'm sorry," and went to sit down again.

"Get back here, I didn't tell you to sit down," Susan said sternly. I stopped, turned around, and walked back to her. As I did, I could see Laura's face, which had a look of intense concentration, staring at Susan.

As I stood in front of her again, she said in a more calm voice, "Get down on your knees." Now wanting to endure her wrath again, I did as she told.

"I'll forgive you this time, Bob, but you need to clean them for me now," she said, now looking down at me.

"What!?!?," I almost shouted up at her.

"You heard me," she said, still in a calm voice. "Take them into the bathroom there and wash them for me," and she pointed toward the bathroom off the living area.

I couldn't believe she was making me do this. The offense of this act was compounded by Laura witnessing it. Usually, I was the one with the power over the grad students, and the idea that this young woman was watching Susan debase me was mortifying. "Oh, come on Su --, I mean Professor Bascom," I said. "Give me a break, this is ridiculous."

"Bob," she said, still with a calm in her voice. "Did you get my e-mail a little while ago?"

"Yes," I replied.

"And you realize, of course, that I have a copy of that photo without your face blurred out."

"Yes, Professor Bascom," I replied solemnly, "I realize that."

"Good. Then being the smart man that you are, I'm sure you also realize that as easily as I e-mailed that picture to you, I could send the other version of it to anybody I so choose. Such as your department chair, your colleagues, and even Sarah."

The thought of any of these possibilities was nauseating, but I was particularly concerned about the idea of my wife, Sarah, seeing the pictures and finding out what had happened. I looked up at Susan, and after hesitating a few seconds, I said defeatedly, "Yes, Professor Bascom, I know that."

"Okay, then what do you need to do?" she asked.

I went to pick up the panties on the floor next to me, but before I could reach for them she said, "I asked you a question, Bob."

I stopped, and turned back to her. "I need to wash them."

She just stared at me, again with that intent gaze, waiting for me to correct myself.

I sighed, and said, "I need to wash your panties for you, Professor Bascom."

She gave me a small smile and replied, "Much better, pet. Now get to your task. Be sure to wash them thoroughly, and you'll find a hair dryer in there you can use to dry them."

I reached for the panties one more time, but she stopped me once again. "No, pet, don't use your hands, that would be too easy for you. Crawl over there and pick them up with your mouth, then crawl to the bathroom."

I hesitated again, not believing she was doing this to me. When I first came to her room, I really had hoped that I would return the panties, we'd laugh, and it would be over with. She would have had her kinky little fun and games the other night, and that would be the end of it. But I realized now there was going to be more of her dominance to which I was going to have to submit.

Resigned to my fate, I crawled the few feet over to the panties, leaned forward and picked them with my mouth, and then turned to crawl to the bathroom. As I did so, I heard Susan let out a little "Woof, woof – just like a good doggy, huh Laura?"

Laura chuckled a little and said, "Yes, Professor Bascom."

Thoroughly humiliated, I scampered on all fours over to the bathroom as fast as I could. When I got in there, I heard Susan say, "Okay, you can stand up now so you can reach the sink and dryer."

I stood, thankful to get off my knees. I turned on the tap and waited for the hot water to come out, and when it did, I began to soak the panties in the sink.

I heard Susan's voice directly behind me now saying, "Be sure to use some soap, they were pretty dirty, weren't they pet?"

Turning and seeing her standing there watching me, I replied, "Yes, ma'am," and proceeded to unwrap the small hotel bar of soap next to the sink and rub it over the panties.

"Much better, pet."

I soaped them up, then soaked them again in the sink. I emptied the water and filled up the basin with clean water, dabbing the panties up and down. The act of doing this caused the memory of my servicing Susan's pussy in the bathroom a couple of nights ago to flood back into my brain. I was once again ashamed to realize that the sense of offense of how I felt between her legs that night was causing me to be aroused, as I felt my cock stirring in my pants.

After rinsing out the panties, I bunched them up in my hands to get out the excess water, and then took the hair dryer off the wall. I put it on a medium setting, and holding the panties in one hand, proceeded to wave the dryer all around them, trying my best to get them dry as soon as possible so I could get this over with.

After about five minutes of this, they were dry. As I put the dryer back, I gazed into the mirror, and saw Susan still standing and leaning against the door frame with a smile on her face.

I turned and handed them to her. She simply stood, staring at me once again, the smile now having left her face.

After a few moments, I realized what she was waiting for. "Here are your panties, Professor Bascom, all cleaned," I said.

She smiled again and reached out and took them from my hand. "Thank you, pet, much better," as she rubbed her fingers over them and then sniffed them. "Now please give me a hand." And with that, she handed them back to me, but I was unsure exactly what she wanted me to do with them now.

She stepped into the bathroom, stood next to me, and placed one hand on my shoulder. She undid the sash on her robe, causing it to fall open. As she did, I got a partial view of her large breasts, though her nipples were still covered by the robe. But her shaved pussy was quite visible to me, which only reinpowerd the memories of my servitude to her.

I felt her hand pushing down on my shoulder as she said, "Please help me into them, pet."

Understanding what she wanted, I knelt down in the bathroom with the panties as she lifted her right foot off the ground. I put the panties around that foot, and then she shifted to raise the left one. I put the other leg hole around that foot, and as she placed it back on the tile of the bathroom, I lifted them up her legs, and did my best to situate them over her curvy ass and on to her waist. As I kneeled there, I got a good look at her shaved pussy as it was just about at my eye level. More importantly, I got a good whiff of it, and it was quite evident that Susan was being truthful when she said she had not had a chance to shower before I got there, as her pussy was quite ripe from the day's activities. I sensed also just a hint of her arousal that had enveloped me the other night in the bathroom, and I knew that she once again was being turned on by what she was doing to me.

"Very good, pet, thank you," she said with a smile. She turned and walked out of the bathroom. At that point, I realized that I had to pee, so I started to close the door.

I heard Susan say, "What are you doing?"

I opened the door enough so she could see me and replied, "I have to go to the bathroom."

She laughed. "What, all the running water got to you, huh?"

"I guess so."

"Okay, go ahead, then. But leave the door open."

I simply stared at her and uttered, "What?"

"You heard me, leave the door open."

At this I didn't respond, but pushed the door open all the way. I resignedly unzipped my fly, and began to take out my cock, but before I could I heard Susan's voice, this time right behind me again. "No, Bob, I don't want to take a chance on you dirtying up my bathroom. Sit down on the toilet if you have to pee."

More offense, I thought, but knowing there was little I could do, I undid my belt and dropped my trousers to my ankles. I then pushed my boxers down over my cock, which was still slightly erect, and before I could turn around, I heard her say, "Nice ass you have there, Bob. At least for a guy." She laughed, and then said, "Come here, Laura, why don't you check him out."

I stood still as I heard Laura walking toward me.

"What do you think, Laura, does he have a nice ass?" Susan asked her.

"Yes, Professor Bascom," was all she said.

"And now the front, Bob. Turn around and give us another view of that penis of yours."

I did as she told, shuffling around with my trousers and boxers at my ankles. As my semi-erect cock bobbed in front of me, I blushed, which Susan immediately picked up on.

"Why, I think he's a little embarrassed, aren't you Bob," she said to Laura.

Ashamed, I said, "Yes, ma'am."

"Well, nothing to be ashamed of, Bob. Laura and I already knew you were a pussy-loving little pet who enjoys being bossed around, didn't we?"

"Yes, we did, Professor Bascom."

Susan laughed and said to me, "Okay, Bob, go ahead."

Between the two of them watching me, and my bobbing cock, I didn't think there was anyway I would be able to pee. But I really had to go, so I sat down, and waited for a few moments as the two of them stood there. Thankfully, my erection finally subsided enough for me to push my cock down and pee into the toilet. After I finished, I stood up, pulled up my boxers and pants, and waited.

Susan turned and walked back into the living area, followed by Laura. Susan had re-tied the sash on her robe, which now hugged her ample ass which swayed as she walked. I followed them into the room as Susan sat on the couch this time, Laura next to her. She motioned for me to sit in one of the chairs facing them.

We sat silently for a minute or so, Susan just staring at me. Finally, she said, "You have been a naughty little boy, haven't you Bob?"

I stared back at her and said, "Actually, I've done everything you've asked me to Sus – uh, Professor Bascom, so can't we bring this whole thing to a close and just forget about it?"

"No, I don't think so, pet. I've been thinking about just what you did the other night, and how embarrassing it is for a senior professor like you to be caught in such a compromising position. I've decided that the punishment you've endured is not enough yet."

"Oh, come on," I replied with anger in my voice, "give me a break. Haven't you had enough of your little game, yet?"

"No, Bob, I haven't had enough yet. I will tell you when I've had enough. Now get over here."

I stood up, and once again I had a fleeting thought of just getting up and walking out of the room. I really thought Susan was bluffing about sending the pictures out or telling anybody what had happened. But I knew I simply couldn't take the chance, so I walked over toward her and Laura.

"Take off your shoes and socks, and drop your trousers and boxers, Bob," Susan said as I stood before her. Dejectedly, I took off the shoes and socks and once again undid my belt and followed her command.

"Now get up here and kneel on the sofa, leaning over the back."

I looked at her alarmedly and said, "Why? What are going to do?"

"Just do as I said, Bob," she replied in a stern voice. "As I told you, you still need to be punished for being a naughty little pet."

Hearing that tone, I did as she said, getting up on the sofa with my ankles with my pants and boxers bunched around them hanging over the edge. I leaned forward with my arms and head on the padded, rounded back of the sofa.

"Laura, take off his pants and underwear."

I felt Laura complying, leaving me totally naked from the waist down. I was wearing a polo shirt that did little to cover up my bare ass. I shivered at the thought of what was going to happen.

I felt Susan's hand rubbing over my ass, which admittedly felt good, as I heard her say, "I think a naughty little boy needs a good spanking, don't you Laura?"

"Yes, ma'am," she replied.

"And I've got just the permister to administer it," Susan said, removing her hand from my ass. I felt her rise from the couch, and I had the sickening feeling that she was going to tell Laura to spank me. The thought that this grad student was going to be doing this to me was awful, and I shuddered at the thought.

But I heard Susan walk away from the couch. She came into my view as she headed toward the door to the bedroom of the suite. I looked over at her as she opened it, smiled, and said to somebody inside, "C'mon out, my dear. Time for you to join all the fun we've been having."

As horrified as I had been at what had transpired over the last fifteen minutes, the feeling was compounded ten times as I saw who Susan had invited into the room to administer the punishment.

"Oh god," I thought, "I can't believe this. Where is it going to end?"

Here I was, bent over the back of the sofa in Professor Susan Bascom's hotel suite, naked from the waist down, with Susan's graduate student Laura standing nearby watching me. And to my horror, when Susan opened the door to the bedroom of the suite, I couldn't believe who walked out.

"Yes, Bob, we both decided that you needed a little more training in the appropriate way to treat women, didn't we, hon?" Susan said to the newcomer.

I just stared at the two of them, unbelieving at what I was seeing. The incredulity must have shown in my face, because I heard Susan say, "What's wrong, Bob? I thought you'd be happy to see Sarah here. Don't you miss her?"

Yes, I missed my wife, but the last thing I wanted was for her to be witnessing this. All I could think was, "What the hell is she doing here?"

Sarah had a little smile on her face and hadn't said a word yet, but continued to stand next to Susan who had an even bigger cuckolds brownie-eating grin on her face.

I finally managed to mumble, "Sarah, what are you doing here?"

Before she could say anything, Susan answered for her. "Well, Bob, after our little encounter in the women's room the other night, I decided that you really did need more training than I had provided to you. What you need is what we call in the academic world, better 'mentoring' -- somebody who can help you learn appropriate mores and etiquette, the right way to act around your superiors, especially women."

She turned to Laura and asked, "You understand these things, don't you, pet? You know the right way to act around me because I've been a good mentor to you, haven't I?"

Laura quickly answered, "Oh yes, Professor Bascom, you've mentored me very well."

"Good, pet, and I've figured out that it is exactly that kind of training that Professor Arnold here needs, right Bob?"

I stared over at her and Sarah, still not believing my wife was standing there as a party to this encounter.

"I said, right Bob?" Susan said to me in a slightly louder voice.

"Yes, Su -- I mean, yes Professor Bascom," I replied. As I said this, I saw Sarah cock an eyebrow for a second. I'm sure the shock of her seeing me almost naked like this on the couch was one thing, but hearing my verbal subservience to Susan was another.

"That's right, Bob, and Sarah is going to help me to train you." With that she grabbed Sarah's hand and the two of them walked over to me. I looked back over my shoulder at Sarah. She was wearing a pair of gray slacks and a plum-colored silk blouse. She too was somewhat plump, not unlike Susan, and her blouse nicely showed off her ample breasts.

As they stood next to me, I began to rise up from the couch, but before I got too far, I heard Susan say, "No, Bob, you can stay right where you are."

But this time I chose to ignore her. I had had enough, with Sarah here in the room I knew I had to bring the whole thing to a halt. "No, Susan -- I am getting up, I need to talk to Sarah."

As I continued to rise up, I felt a hand on the back of my head, pushing me back down. I was about to swat Susan's hand away, but as I glanced that way, I saw it was not Susan's hand that was pushing me down, but Sarah's. Surprised and confused, I allowed her to push me back down so that my head was again resting on the back of the couch. "What's going on, Sarah?" I asked her.

"I'm sorry, Bob, but I agree with Susan. I want you to stay there and listen to me," she said. I didn't say anything, signaling my acquiescence.

Sarah continued, "When Susan called me the other evening, and explained to me what had happened, at first I didn't believe her. She told me everything, from how you followed her and Laura into the bathroom, to what happened when she discovered you there, to what she did to you."

As Sarah started to describe her conversation with Susan, I became a bit wary. Sarah and I had a very active sex life, and we had engaged in numerous types of roleplaying, including some dominance and presentation play. And we had been on again and off again swingers, so we certainly weren't prudes in any way. But never had we -- or I -- done anything like what had happened to me in that women's restroom in the hotel two nights ago. So I was not quite sure how she was going to react to what she had heard about. I was also surprised at what was turning out to be a level of familiarity between Susan and Sarah that I hadn't known had existed. I knew they had occasionally e-mailed with each other, and had met a couple of times when Sarah accompanied me to conferences, but didn't think it went beyond that.

"Because I didn't believe her," Sarah continued, "Susan offered to e-mail me one of the pictures, and I took her up on her offer. Needless to say, when I received it I was shocked to see that she was telling the truth. I just didn't want to believe you'd do something so risky, Bob. So when I called Susan back after I got her e-mail, we had a long chat about how we should proceed. She suggested that I fly out and join her here, and that the two of us could deal with it together. So I did, and here I am."

With that she, gave me a little smile, and I knew that I was sunk. Any thought that she would help me to talk sense into Susan's head went right out of my mind as I realized that she was apparently in this just as much as Susan was. I now had to deal not just with Susan's wrath, and what she had planned for me, but now also had to worry about Sarah's participation.

Now it was Susan's turn to chime in again. "Very well explained, Sarah. So you see, Bob, that's why your dear wife is here with us right now, so she can help me mentor you in the appropriate way to behave around women. So are you ready to begin?"

I sighed, and simply answered, "Yes, if we must."

Susan glared at me once again, showing her disapproval. I immediately knew what she wanted, and quickly replied, "Yes, ma'am, I am ready to begin."

Susan smiled once again, and said to Sarah, "See, dear, it really is quite easy once you have them trained a bit. Now, let's see, how do we want to start?" She hesitated for a few seconds, and I just lay there over the back of the couch, fretting over exactly what she was going to do.

After a few moments, Susan said, "Laura, pet, come over here please."

I turned my head the other way to look over at Laura as she came back toward me. Susan saw me look, however, and as Laura came nearby, she said to her, "Do me a favor, pet. Get my scarf from the bedroom."

"Yes, ma'am," Laura replied, and I saw her walk into the other room.

A few seconds later, I heard Laura pad quietly across the carpet to a spot behind me. Susan said to her, "Okay, pet, now tie it around Bob's head -- we don't want him getting distracted by watching everything."

I felt Laura kneel on the couch, and then felt the cool silk over my eyes as she tied the scarf tightly around my head. I was now enveloped in darkness, which only helped to heighten all my other senses.

"Okay, now we'll get started. So here's what we're going to do Bob. To start your training in the appropriate way to appreciate women, we're going to spank you. And your job is to tell us which of the three of us is administering the punishment to you. If you get it right, you'll be rewarded; wrong, and you'll be further punished. Do you understand?"

I was so humiliated, thinking about what was about to happen, and especially by the idea of both my wife and Susan's young grad student witnessing and participating. But I knew I was sunk, and had no choice but to play along. "Yes, ma'am, I understand," I replied.

"It's not just 'ma'am,' Bob -- you have three women here who you need to be attentive to," Susan scolded me.

I was stumped for few moments, not quite sure how to respond to this. As I sat there, kneeling on the couch, naked from the waist down, trying to figure it out, I quickly felt a sharp slap on my left cheek.

"Ow," I shouted in response, without thinking.

"What was that?" I heard Susan's voice say.

I quickly replied, "I'm sorry, mistresses."

"That's better, Bob. Now tell me -- which one of us was it that just laid that blow upon your scrawny little ass?"

I thought for just a second, and realized the speed with which I was hit must have meant that it was Susan who inflicted the punishment. There was not enough time for her to have signaled Sarah or Laura to hit me. "It was you, Professor Bascom," I answered.

"Oh, very good Bob -- you're doing just fine so far!" And with that, she lightly rubbed my ass, right over what was by now no doubt a very red spot on my cheek. "Okay, ladies," she continued, "why don't the two of you come over here right next to me. Remember to address us appropriately, Bob, and I don't want to hear any whining or complaining."

I continued kneeling there as I heard the rustling of people moving around behind me, and after a few seconds, Susan said, "Get ready, Bob, here's the next one."

I tensed up, awaiting the next blow to rain down on my ass. It seemed like minutes of anticipation, but I knew it must have only been a few seconds -- and then it hit me, a hard smack upon the other cheek from the first. It took everything in my being to resist crying out in pain, but somehow I managed. I thought for a second, trying to figure out which of the three women hit me. I knew Susan was playing mind games with me, and I was trying to outguess her. I quickly decided she would have had one of the other two land that second blow, and it seemed too hard for it to have been Laura. I suspected she would be a little timid at first, and there was nothing shy about the hand that had just hit me.

"That was Mistress Sarah," I said.

"Bravo, Bob -- I'm very impressed. You're two for two."

I sighed silently, hoping that my stellar performance would bring an end to it. After all, Susan had said I'd be rewarded if I guessed right. But before I could be too proud of myself, another shot landed on the same ass cheek. This one did, in fact, feel lighter than the others, so I quickly said with great confidence, "That would be Laur - er, Mistress Laura."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Bob, but you're wrong," Susan replied. "That was my hand again, you're perfect streak is broken. And you know what that means."

I steeled myself, ready for more punishment, but after waiting a few seconds, nothing came.

"I said, you know what that means, don't you Bob?"

I quickly replied in defeat, "Yes, Mistress Susan, it means I will be punished more."

"That's right, my little worm." And with that, she -- or somebody -- quickly hit me four more times, twice on each cheek in succession, and there was nothing light about these blows. Again, I had to bite my lip to prevent myself from crying out in pain, but I somehow managed. "That was you, Mistress Susan," I mumred under my breath.

"What was that, Bob, I can't hear you?"

Having caught my breath, I spoke up. "That was you, Mistress Susan."

"Ah yes, you are definitely learning the feel of my hand upon your ass, you are doing much better now, my pet. I think we're going to stop here for a moment since you're doing so well."

I sighed again, happy to have a respite -- no matter how brief -- from the attacks that I knew must have turned my ass cheeks bright red. I began to sit back on my ankles, but somebody tapped me lightly and I heard Sarah this time say, "No Bob, we're not done with you yet."

I was surprised to hear Sarah saying this, as I still saw her as more of a passive participant in this whole scene, following along with Susan's lead. But she clearly was playing a more assertive role than I had thought she would. I pulled myself back up to a kneeling position, once again with my head and chest resting on the back of the sofa.

"I'll be right back, ladies," Susan said, and I heard her pad off away from the sofa. I realized she must have gone into her bedroom, because I didn't hear the sound of her shoes on the tile of the bathroom floor. A minute or so later, I heard her footsteps approach again. As she came closer, I heard my wife giggle, a sound that sent my mind spinning with questions about what Susan had in mind.

For about a minute nothing happened -- no sound of walking, nor any other sound that would clue me in to what was coming next. I was thankful that the spankings had stopped, at least for now. But I was still nervously anticipating Susan's -- and I knew it would be Susan, because she was clearly in charge -- next move.

I felt somebody's hands on the inside of my knees perched on the sofa, gently easing them outward, causing me to spread my legs even further than they already were. Even without any words being spoken, it was clear what the intent was.

And then I felt it -- a cold, damp sensation at the top of the crack of my ass. I wasn't sure what it was, and strangely, my first thought was that there was some kind of leak from the ceiling. But then I felt the sensation of something very viscous slowly dripping down the crack toward my rosebud. And then I felt more large, cold drops of the same liquid dropped right upon the first spot, and they too dripped down my rosebud, past it, and down my ball sack where it felt like it was pooling in the hair there.

It was then that I realized it must have been some sort of lube that Susan had gotten from her bedroom, and she was now dripping it down my ass. I was so embarrassed, thinking about what I must have looked like -- my legs spread wide on the couch, my ass up in the air, lewdly exposed to the three women. And now, some kind of lube dripping down my crack toward my balls. I ground my head even further into the back of the sofa, wishing I could just disappear into it, never to be seen again.

Just as I thought I was going to die from shame, I heard the sound of somebody sucking in their breath, as if to try to catch it after seeing something unexpected. I wasn't sure which of the three women it was, but then I heard Susan say, "Yes, my dear, that's quite a sight, isn't it? Professor Arnold crouched there, with his nether regions so beautifully exposed to us, so open to us to do anything we wish, aren't they?"

Much to my surprise, it was Laura's voice I heard next. "Yes, ma'am, it is quite a sight." I was surprised that Laura was the one who had reacted as she did. I realized that she must have never been in this position with Susan before, Susan dominating somebody -- especially a man -- the way that she was doing to me. I wasn't sure whether Laura's reaction was one of shock, disgust, or arousal, however; her voice did not betray what she was thinking.

"Come here, my pet, come closer," Susan said, most likely to Laura. "I want you to experience this for yourself." I heard Laura walk quietly from the side of me, where she had been, to position herself behind me, next to where I had been hearing Susan's voice coming from.

I felt a hand on the back of my head, lightly tracing fingers down the back of my neck, then my back, and down right to the spot just above where Susan had dropped the lube. "I want you to just relax, Bob," Susan said in a soft voice. "You are here for our pleasure, and you know that there is nothing you can do about it, don't you." I lightly nodded my head, resigned once again to my fate.

"I want to hear your voice, Bob, I want to hear the confirmation that you submit to our dominance," she said in the same quiet tone.

"Yes, Professor Bascom, I understand that I have no choice but to submit to your wishes."

"And the others, too, Bob?"

I sighed and confirmed, "Yes, Mistress Laura and Mistress Sarah also."

"Good, then we will continue. Come here, Laura. Take your finger, and run it up and down Bob's well-lubricated ass."

I gasped uncontrollably at the realization of what Susan was now doing. Somehow, hearing her give the instruction out loud to her graduate student, made the entire episode that much more humiliating to me. The thought that this student, who two days ago probably held me in some esteem based on my professional standing, was now standing behind me as I was crouched naked and lewdly displayed to her, ready to submit to whatever she chose to do to me, was just too much to bear. I began quietly sobbing at my predicament.

Susan must have heard this, as did Sarah. I felt a hand stroking my hair over the blindfold, and heard Sarah's voice whispering in my ear, "That's okay my love, just relax. You need this; you need to be taught the proper way to respect women. I promise you, no harm will come to you -- I've gotten Susan to agree to that. But you must endure your training."

I did my best to fight back the tears, and lightly nodded my head in agreement. All I could do was just hope that they would get this "training" over with as quickly as possible, and then Sarah and I could go on with our lives -- hopefully never to talk about this horrendous experience again.

"Okay, Bob, are you ready to continue now?" Susan asked.

I sniffled back the tears and replied, "Yes, Professor Bascom."

I then felt a finger, Laura's presumably, doing as Susan had instructed. She ran it up and down my crack, and it moved very effortlessly because of the liberal dose of lubrication that had been poured down it.

After a minute or two of this, Susan said, "You know what to do next, don't you my pet?"

"Yes, ma'am," Laura replied, and then I felt it -- a prodding finger upon my asshole, pressing lightly at first, then more strongly. She was clearly trying to be gentle, but yet at the same time was tactically insistent on what she was going to accomplish. Sarah and I had engaged in anal play many times, so the sensations were not totally foreign to me. The setting, however, was, and it was hard to endure what was happening, but I did my best to steel myself for it.

Laura continued rotating her finger around, slowly easing it into my asshole, until the point where I realized she must have been in up to about her first knuckle. Luckily, she was fairly slim built, and her fingers mirrored her body size, so it really was not very painful at all. It was more the offense that was getting to me, knowing that this student was fingering me in the ass -- and my wife and professional colleague were watching her do it.

And then, before I knew what was happening, the realization hit me that my body was responding to what she was doing. I felt my cock stiffening as she slowly rotated her finger around, and then began pistoning it in and out of my ass. No doubt, Sarah was not surprised; she knew about my submissive nature, and she knew how turned on I could get when she would dominate me anally. But I was surprised at my body's reaction in the face of being watched by these two other women. But somehow my mind must have migrated into that subspace that it reaches when I am being dominated, because I was definitely getting aroused, and I knew my erection would betray me.

And right on cue, I heard a clap, and Susan's voice exclaim with glee, "Oh I just knew it -- I just knew he was such a little subbie boy who loved having things stuck up his ass. Look at his funny little penis." All three women giggled at Susan's exclamation of surprise and excitement as Laura continued working her finger in and out of my ass.

She was right, and I don't know if she figured it out on her own, or if she had been clued in by Sarah. I was greatly turned on by having my ass played with, especially as part of dominance and presentation. It was an involuntary response, even in the face of the situation in which I found myself.

I felt fingers close around my now fully-erect cock, and felt the hand stroke lightly up and down the shaft. I was not sure whose fingers they were, but then I heard Susan say, "Yup, no doubt about it -- he likes this!" and I realized it was she who was working my cock. I had to admit it felt good; the combined sensation of Laura's finger in my ass, and Susan's around my cock, was quite a turn on.

Susan released my cock, and then I felt fingers -- presumably hers -- joining Laura's on my ass. The fingers wiped up and down my crack a few times, and then before I knew what was happening, they closed again around my cock, this time stroking it even more fluidly than before because of the lubrication.

They both continued for a few minutes, Laura pushing her finger even further into my ass. I was afraid that they would make me cum like this as the arousal was building in my body. My breathing became heavier as I was hunched over the back of the couch, but then I felt Susan's fingers release from my cock and I felt a hard smack across my right ass cheek. I yelped an involuntary "Ow!"

Susan said, "Tsk, tsk, Bob -- know cumming for you, my pet. You should know that you can only cum when we women give you permission."

I resisted the temptation to put my hand back on my sore ass to rub it, and simply replied in a defeated voice, "Yes, Mistress Susan."

"That's right, and don't you forget it," she replied. "Okay, Laura, you can stop that." And with that command, I felt her finger removed immediately from my asshole. It felt very open and empty, much more so than it had ten minutes ago.

"But we're not done with your training yet, are we ladies?" Susan inquired of the other two. I couldn't see how they reacted, as they did not say anything, but I presumed they nodded in acquiescence. "Yes, we have much more to do."

I once again heard and felt Susan step away from behind me, and it sounded like she was walking around in the living room of her hotel suite. I then heard one of the other two women walk away, and then heard the sound of shoes tapping in the bathroom, and the sound of water running. I assumed that was Laura washing her hand after she had been working my asshole so vigorously.

I heard both pairs of feet on the carpet as they approached me again. There was no movement for a minute, and then without warning, I sensed a flash through my blindfold. This was quickly followed by two more, and I realized that somebody was taking pictures of me, prostrate over the back of the couch, all spread open for the world to see. Just more evidence that I assumed Susan would be able to use against me in the future.

Much to my surprise, though, it was Sarah's voice that I heard next. "Now that will certainly make a pretty picture for us, don't you think my dear?" she asked. "Where do you think we should hang one of those -- in our bedroom, where only you and I would get to see it?"

I mumred to her, "Whatever," which was followed by another, albeit lighter, slap upon my ass. "Is that the proper way to address me, Bob?" she said.

"No, Mistress Sarah, I'm sorry. I would rather you not put that picture anywhere, to be honest."

She laughed, and said, "Don't worry, I was just joking. But it's nice to know that I have it if I ever decide I do want to use it. Or perhaps even share it with my friends here, right ladies? It will make such a nice complement to the pictures that Susan took the other night in the bathroom."

The three of them laughed about that, and then I heard somebody walk away again. I heard something being put down on the glass-topped table, and I hoped it was the camera.

Sarah walked back toward me, and I heard her say, "What about this, Professor Bascom? This could be fun?"

Susan replied enthusiastically, "Oh yes, it definitely could!"

I had no idea what they were talking about, but then I sensed somebody leaning over me. I felt fingers on the blindfold, and it was pulled down below my eyes, but not off my head. I blinked a few times as the bright light of the room assaulted my eyes. As they adjusted, I realized there was something right next to my head. I turned my head that way to get a better look, and my jaw dropped open when I realized what was there.

"That's right, Bob," Sarah said. "Think it's time for the next step of your training."

I was utterly defeated, lying across the couch in the hotel room, being watched -- and dominated by my wife Sarah, my professional colleague, Susan Bascom, and her graduate student, Laura. At that point all I wanted was for the ordeal to be over, but I knew it would not be until Susan -- or Mistress Susan, as I was being powerd to call her -- decided it would be over.

After Laura had stuck her finger up my well-lubricated ass, and Susan had fondled my cock, Sarah stood next to me holding a red, flared butt plug. It was similar to, but not exactly the same, as one of the ones we occasionally used in our play. And she had just suggested that she use it on me, in full view of the two other women. The three of them drew closer, so that they formed a semi-circle around me.

As my eyes adjusted to the light after having the blindfold removed, I glanced at the three of them, and they all had smiles on their faces. I could tell they were enjoying this act of my offense, relishing in the power they held over me. But it was more than that; something else was gnawing at me as I waited on the couch, my ass, dripping with lube, sticking out at them, and my cock still erect. They stood still, not saying a word. I thought perhaps Susan was going to spank me again, or perhaps she was just waiting to decide what to do.

And then it hit me -- I smelled something very familiar. It was the scent of female arousal. I was not sure which of them was secreting the scent, or perhaps it was all three, but there was no question that at least one of them was getting off on this sexually. I knew that Susan had been aroused earlier, that was for sure, but for some reamister I suspected she wasn't the only one that I was now smelling. At first I was shocked, because I saw the entire thing as a power play on Susan's, and later, Laura and Sarah's parts. But then it occurred to me that there was no reamister they should not enjoy the wielding of power as a sexual thrill as well. I knew how turned on Sarah got when we practiced dominance and presentation, so why shouldn't the same be true for the other two women as well?

I sneaked a peek over my shoulder at the three of them, and they were glancing at each other, looking somewhat unsure what to do next. They looked at one another, then down at me, catching my glance. I turned away in shame, and buried my head once again in the upholstered back of the sofa. "Please, just get it over with," I thought to myself, too scared to express the thought, however, for fear it would just prolong the ordeal.

And then I heard Susan's voice. "Would you like to go ahead, Sarah, you've obviously had the most experience in this situation," she said.

Sarah hesitated for a second or two, but then responded, "Oh no, Susan, you're right -- I get to do this all the time. Perhaps it would make more of an impression on him if you or Laura had the honors."

Susan chuckled for a moment. "Yes, you're right. We are trying to train the little subbie, so we want to maximize the effect. Let's see -- you had the opportunity to stick your finger up his ass, Laura" -- just hearing those words made me cringe -- "so I think I will be the one to stick this up there. So listen up, Bob -- here are your instructions. I am going to stick this plug up your subbie little ass, and you're going to take it like a man -- no whining or complaining. Do you understand?"

Without hesitation, I responded, "Yes, Mistress Bascom."

"Good. After I put it in there, you'll need to make sure it stays. If you lose it, you'll be further punished. Do you understand that, too?"

"Yes, ma'am."

And without saying another word, I felt the tip of the plug touching my anal ring. Fortunately, it had been well lubricated by Laura's fingers, so I hoped it would not hurt too much. Susan gave it a firm, continuous push, and it quickly popped into my ass, the flared part entering enough that it would be held there by the contraction of my anal muscles.

I grunted to myself as she shoved it in, but managed to take it without uttering anything. It was about the same size as one Sarah and I had used, so I knew what to expect. And I also had had experience holding it there, so I hoped that I would be able to do so under these somewhat more adverse circumstances.

"Very good, my pet," I heard Susan saying. "You took the whole thing. Doesn't he look just wonderful, ladies, lying there, his butt sticking out, with that red plug filling his subbie little asshole so beautifully."

Laura said in a somewhat hushed voice, "Oh yes, Professor Bascom." Sarah didn't say a word. I kept my head buried in the sofa back, but I kept smelling the scent of female arousal. I was sure at this point that the scene was becoming a big turn-on for at least some of them.

"Just look at him ladies, so subservient, kneeling there with his butt plug, willing to do whatever we say, aren't you Bob?"

I didn't answer until I felt a soft swat on my ass. "Yes, Professor Bascom," I replied.

"Yes what, Bob?"

"Yes, I'll do whatever you want. I just want this to be over with and get out of here."

"Well, it won't be over with until I decide it's over, is that clear, pet," she responded.

"Yes, ma'am."

I felt her take a step closer to me, and heard her say in a soft voice -- loud enough, I realized, for the other two women to hear -- "You're not getting off that easily, Bob. You still have work to do."

She leaned back again and said, "Laura, pet, get the scarf and put it back on Professor Arnold's eyes. I don't think he needs to see for what we're going to do next."

"Yes, ma'am," I heard Laura reply, and then felt the silk of Susan's scarf on my eyes, once again plunging me into darkness. After a few seconds, I had the same feeling as earlier, that the removal of my sense of sight had worked to heighten my other senses, and I could hear every movement they made. I could also smell the female arousal as they stood near me, and I was convinced at this stage that it was all three of them I was smelling.

"Okay, Bob, come down off that couch." I began to ease back off of my knees to stand, and as I did, I felt a hand reach for my upper arm to steady me. I stood up, grateful to have the pressure off of my knees. "Okay, follow me," Susan said, and I felt a gentle push on my back as the other hand continued to guide me by my upper arm. I was very aware of the butt plug Susan had shoved up my ass, and was careful to keep my ass muscles clenched as I walked so as not to lose it.

I walked forward, and judging from where I had been standing, I figured we must have been heading for the bedroom. I heard three pairs of footsteps following alongside and just behind me. After walking about ten steps, Susan said, "Okay, stop, and now stand there."

I halted, and I felt hands on my upper body. I realized that somebody was taking off my shirt, feeling the sleeves pulled down off of my arms, rendering me totally naked in front of the three women.

After the permister, presumably Susan, pulled away, I heard the sound of whispering. Even with the blindfold on, though, I could not hear what was being said, and there were no giggles or other reactions from the other two women to betray what was said. But then I heard the soft rustling of more clothing, and I suspected that they too were getting undressed.

After a few more moments, Susan spoke once more. "Okay Bob, we're going to help you get on the bed, lying on your back." I now felt arms on either side of me, guiding me forward, until I felt my lower legs hit the bed. I kneeled on to it, and crawled forward until I figured I must have been near the head, and turned around to lie on my back. As I eased myself down, I felt my head resting on what felt like two or three pillows stacked on top of one another, so that I was horizontal on the bed, but was in fact propped up quite a ways. I was grateful to be lying on my back, knowing that that would help keep the butt plug in with less effort.

I heard more whispering and then heard the women walking around in the room a bit. It sounded like one of them had walked out of the room. "Well Bob," Susan started up again. "You did pretty well on the last test we gave you, so we don't need to punish you anymore. Not yet, at least." I breathed a silent sigh of relief, because as I had lied down on the bed I was aware not just of the butt plug but also of the feel of the bedspread on my still sore ass cheeks, from where I had been spanked.

"See, you're not going to be punished more, but we do still have a little bit of training to do. As we said, you still need to learn the proper, respectful way to treat a woman, and I'm not yet convinced that you understand everything you need to do. I've discussed this with Sarah, and she agrees there are some things that you are not quite as good at. She acknowledged to me that you are a good lover, but you can still stand to learn a few things. So the three of us are going to help you with that. Okay Bob?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress Susan," I responded, hoping that if I cooperated and played along this would be the end of it all.

"Good, so glad to have your acquiescence," Susan responded. I heard the footsteps of somebody walking back into the room. "But we have a little problem, here. I enjoyed seeing Bob so aroused before ladies, when my graduate student was plunging her finger in and out of Bob's subbie little ass." I cringed at the memory. "And I thought that the butt plug would keep him in a state of arousal, but it's obviously not doing the trick," she continued. "Laura, get up there, sweetie, and see if you can't help him out a little bit. And Bob, don't get so aroused that you even think about cumming -- you need to remember that I control that, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," I answered in a soft voice.

I had no idea what she was going to do, but I felt somebody getting on the bed near me. I felt a hand on my cock, which just as Susan had pointed out, had gotten flaccid again. The hand -- presumably Laura's -- began to gently stroke it, but just as it was starting to get hard again, Susan said in a sharp voice, "Wait a minute -- stop." As she spoke, I felt the hand removed and my semi-erect cock flopped back to my belly. "I have a better idea -- why don't you do that yourself, Bob -- no need for Laura to waste the effort," she said with a chuckle.

I felt Laura sit back away from me, but still on the bed, and I realized quickly what Susan expected of me. She wanted me to touch myself, exposed to these three women, while they watched. Once again, with the hope that it would soon be over, I realized I had to comply. Normally, the idea of touching myself in front of three women like that would be erotic, but not in this setting where I had no control and was doing so only because of being powerd to by this domineering woman.

I sighed, and reached my hand over and began to touch my cock. After a few strokes, it had sprung to life, and after just a few more it had returned to the state it had been earlier when I was bent over the couch and Laura was fingering me. I stopped, and put my hand back at my side, my cock now pointed upward.

"Oh no, Bob, don't stop," Susan said, "we want to see you continue that, don't we ladies? But remember, not too far, or you'll be punished again." I couldn't see, of course, but I presumed that Sarah and Laura nodded in agreement. They appeared to be going along with everything Susan wanted, even though I still carried some hope that Sarah would come to her senses and call a halt to the whole thing and get me out of there.

With no other choice, I reached over and began to lightly stroke my cock again. It did feel good, even in that humiliating setting, though I knew I was nowhere near cumming. After continuing for a few minutes. I heard whispering again, and I felt Laura (at least I presumed it was still Laura) shifting on the bed. And then I felt a cold liquid on the tip of my cock and my hands, and I realized it must have been more of the lube that one of the three of them had earlier retrieved from the other room.

I felt the bed stir again, and sensed somebody close to my head. I then heard Sarah's voice whispering in my ear, "Feels good, Bob, doesn't it?" And I realized it must have been her who had poured the lube on me.

I didn't reply, but just continued to stroke my cock. Yes, it did feel good, but I still did not like being powerd to do this in front of the three of them. Sarah was still sitting next to me on the bed, with Laura over on the other side.

I continued a couple of more minutes, and felt myself getting more aroused. Just as I thought I was getting close, Susan must have sensed this, because she said, "Okay, Bob, that's enough for now. We just wanted to get you plenty aroused so you'd have your senses heightened for the remainder of your training." I stopped touch myself, my cock still pointing toward the ceiling. Hearing the word "remainder," I had a glimmer of hope that perhaps we were approaching the end of the torment I had been experiencing.

"Okay Laura, you first," Susan said. I didn't know what she meant, but I heard Laura shifting around and moving on the bed. She apparently knew what to do, so this must have been what the whispering was about earlier. I also felt Sarah shifting around a bit on the other side of me, but she just moved a little bit away but I could still feel her weight on the bed next to me.

And then I felt Laura on top of me, straddling my chest. I felt no clothes on her, so I realized she must have disrobed when I heard the rustling of clothes after my shirt had been removed. And there was no question what I smelled -- a woman's wet pussy in a high state of arousal.

She was sitting on my chest, about halfway between my head and my cock, and I waited expectantly for her to shift forward bringing her pussy in contact with my mouth. I assumed Susan was going to have me service her orally as part of my "training."

But there I waited a few seconds, with Laura astride me, making no apparent moving at scooting forward. I didn't know what to do, so I just lie there, waiting. Finally, Susan spoke. "Okay, Bob, here's your task. You're going to be trained to worship women, to treat them with all the respect they deserve, demonstrating to us that you understand our position of dominance over you lowly men. You are going to show us how well you can pleasure us, putting our gratification above your own. Only through this kind of training will you learn how to properly respect women, putting them -- and their needs, desires, and yes, even their careers -- ahead of your own. It is this discipline that you must learn. Do you understand, pet?"

I couldn't respond at first, just shocked at what she was doing. I was not surprised that she was using me in this way given where things had been heading, but the way she was framing it -- that my being used as a "sex toy" to bring pleasure to a woman -- was a way of getting me to properly respect and acknowledge women's dominance over men was unexpected. I heard her say in a slightly louder voice, "I asked you a question, Bob. I want an answer."

I started for a second at the sound of her voice, and pulled myself together. "Yes, ma'am, I understand," I responded, knowing what she was expecting to hear.

"Not good enough, Bob. I want you to tell me -- no, tell us -- what it is you understand."

I hesitated for a second, trying to make sure I did in fact understand what she was saying. After gathering my thoughts, I replied, "I understand that the purpose of this training is for me to learn how women are superior to men. That I need to put them first, before men. Is that correct, Professor Bascom?"

She laughed, and said, "Good enough, my pet. I think you get the gist of it. Okay, Laura, you may begin." And with that I felt Laura scoot forward until I felt her pussy hair tickling my chin. Unlike Susan, who I had learned in the hotel bathroom two nights ago was shaven clean, and Sarah, who usually trimmed her pussy hair, Laura was quite bushy and her hairs quickly brushed my nose. It became quickly apparent to me that she had in fact been aroused by what had occurred, because I immediately got a strong whiff of her arousal as her crotch approached my face.

I opened my mouth, prepared to service her orally. As I did, she scooted forward just a bit, almost enveloping my nose and mouth with her pussy. Her arousal that had been signaled by her scent was confirmed by the wetness that I immediately felt all over my lower face. I began to softly lick her labia, first the large outer ones, then the smaller inner ones. I worked on one side, and then the other, lightly licking and stroking them with my tongue. Every now and then, I felt Laura shift around a bit, seeming to try to get better contact between her pussy and my face.

After a few moments of this, I felt a hand on my cock again. It had stayed erect, being fueled by the erotic sensation of licking Laura. I had to admit it was not unpleasant, and tasting, feeling, and smelling how aroused she was was also turning me on. The hand was lightly stroking my cock, a very nice feeling. I couldn't tell if it was Laura, reaching behind her, or one of the other women.

I was brought out of my reverie by Susan's voice in my ear. Somehow she had gotten so close, and I hadn't even realized it. "Remember, Bob -- you may not cum, or you will be punished again." I couldn't respond, of course, with my mouth being totally consumed by Laura's pussy, but Susan had to have known I heard her. I tried to put out of my mind what the hand was doing to me, but it was very difficult. I was really concentrating on my tongue and lips pleasuring Laura, but still, I felt my own arousal growing. And then it stopped -- just like that, it was gone, and I was left once again with my cock aiming skyward.

I continued licking Laura, now starting to move my tongue more deeply into her pussy. Her folds felt very smooth, and her taste was not unpleasant. I tried to reach the sides of her vagina as best I could, and she continued to shift around a bit. Her wetness seemed to be increasing, so I suspect that my ministrations were having the desired effect.

I then pulled my tongue out of her pussy and reached upward to flick it over her clit, which was not hard to find. It was quite prominent and was sticking way out of its hood, which appeared to have retracted some to provide me easy access to the clit. As I did this for a minute or so, she began to rock up and down on my face, and I suspected that she was getting close to an orgasm. I could hear her breathing getting heavier, and she was rocking faster, and I did my best to maintain contact with her clit, even though my tongue was getting very tired. Just as I thought she was ready to explode, I heard Susan say in a gentle but firm voice, "That's enough, pet, now get off of him."

Laura groaned, still continuing to rock on my face. "Please, Mistress, I am so close, please let me cum."

"No, pet, you know the rule -- you only come when I give you permission when we are together. And you too need to learn the proper discipline if you are going to grow into a woman who can use her influence over men. So get off of him right now, my dear, and return to your spot on the bed."

I heard Laura sigh, and felt her ease off of my face, leaving me covered in her secretions. She had been so wet that it was literally dripping down my cheeks in little rivulets. As she got up, I felt a soft kiss on my cheek, and she whispered in my ear, "You were very good," and giggled a bit before I felt her sitting again by my side on the bed.

"Okay, Bob, catch your breath," I heard Susan say. I had been breathing very heavily from the exertion and from the weight of Laura on my chest, so I tried my best to catch my breath. I felt some kind of cloth on my face, sopping up Laura's wetness that had been deposited there. It must have been Sarah doing that.

I lie there for what seemed like two or three minutes, nothing happening. Then I felt Sarah on the other side of me getting up, and she too plopped herself down on my chest. I hadn't heard anything, so Susan must have given her some kind of silent signal. But then I heard her voice once more, "Okay, Bob, you know what to do," and with that, Sarah scooted forward on to my face.

This was a much more familiar sensation to me, of course. Sarah's trimmed pussy fit right over my mouth, in a position I had certainly been in before. While this was not something we did frequently, she did like to sit on my face like this when we played around with dominance and presentation. It was one of her favorite ways of having me service her; she had told me that there was something about towering over me, trapping my head between her thighs, that made her feel very superior and dominant. I don't know if Susan had gotten this idea from Sarah, or whether she had come up with it on her own, but in any event I began using my tongue on my wife's pussy.

Knowing Sarah as I did, it did not take very long for her to get going. She had not been nearly as aroused as had Laura, judging from the difference in how wet she was compared to the graduate student when each had mounted my face. But Sarah quickly caught up as my tongue got to work. I took one of her outer labia between my lips and started to gently suck on it, something that I knew drove her wild. I repeated on the other, and then ran my tongue all around each of her inner lips. She was getting wetter and wetter, and she too began to move around. Unlike Laura, though, who rocked up and down, Sarah was moving in more of a circular motion, almost like she was rubbing her pussy all over my face.

As I worked my tongue on her labia, I heard her breathing get heavy and heard her say, "Yes, that is so good, give it to me Bob." I knew she was getting close, and wondered if Susan was going to stop her, too, before she orgasmed. I knew what was going to bring her over the top, and went right for it. I pushed my neck up a bit so that I could get my lips around her clit, and began to suck on it. This had the expected effect, and she began to moan even louder, "Yes, yes, yes, that's it." I waited for Susan to stop her, but not hearing anything, continued sucking her clit even harder. And then it hit -- a huge orgasm, as she ground her pussy on my face, shaking violently, her juices running all over it. As she came down, I eased up on the sucking, just the way that I knew she liked, and after 30 seconds or so her body stopped shaking and she rolled off of me. "Oh god," was all she could say.

Susan laughed, and said, "Well, it looked like you certainly enjoyed that, my dear! I'd say your husband is doing a good job learning just how to take care of a woman, aren't you Bob?" I had been wiping my wife's wetness off of the lower half of my face with the back of my hand, and managed to mumble, "Yes, ma'am."

Susan laughed again, and I felt hands around the top of my head, and the scarf was lifted off of it. My eyes were shocked by the light, even though the room was lit by just a rather dim lamp over in one corner, and I blinked a few times trying to recover from it. After a bit, I was able to look around and take in the sights around me. There was enough light to allow me to see that on one side of me on the bed was my wife, curled up, still breathing heavily, with what I could see was a very wet pussy. I turned the other way, and there was Laura, the graduate student sitting naked and cross-legged looking over at Sarah. I saw for the first time tonight her very bushy pussy that fifteen minutes ago I had been licking to abandon.

And standing at the foot of the bed was Susan, but unlike the other two, she was wearing the silk dressing gown in which she had greeted me what seemed like hours earlier. I suspected that her remaining clothed, at least partially so, while the other two women were naked, was part of the power play for her.

She moved forward, and kneeled on the bed at my feet. She leaned forward, reached out and put her hand on my cock, and began to lightly stroke it. It had been almost fully at attention while I was licking my wife, but Susan's touch brought it even more so.

"I can see you are enjoying your training, aren't you, pet," she said, looking me in the eye. I could do nothing but nod, knowing that any other response would be interpreted as a lie given the state of my erection. I then realized this wouldn't suffice, and said, "Yes, Professor Bascom."

"I thought so," she replied, "because like most men ultimately what you want is to please a woman. I agree you've been learning to do that very, very well, my little subbie. And you'll be happy to hear that your training is almost over."

Given what she said, and what had transpired, I suspected that my denouement would be to perform the same acts on her. That would fit right in with the entire evening, with her orchestrating of the events right from the beginning. In fact, it would fit right in with everything she had done to me ever since she had first caught me spying on her and Laura in the bathroom two nights earlier.

She continued to lightly stroke my cock, gazing back and forth at the two other women with a wry smile on her face. I was getting even more aroused, and was doing everything I could to stop from cumming. Susan looked at Laura and said to her, "How about you, poor pet -- you were pretty aroused grinding your sweet little pussy on Professor Arnold's face, weren't you?" This reminder of my servitude to her, along with Susan's coarse, humiliating language to describe it, led to a deflation of my erection just a bit. It must have been a little humiliating for Laura, also, because she looked down at her hands as she answered, "Yes, ma'am, I was -- or should say, am, very aroused."

"And I always take care of you, don't I, pet," Susan replied to her.

"Yes, Professor Bascom, you do take care of me."

"Well, then I won't leave you hanging there, sweetie," and I thought Susan was going to tell her to mount herself on my face once again. But to my surprise, she said to her, "You can go ahead and touch yourself."

I was shocked by this response, but Laura, much to my surprise, did not appear shocked at all. She simply said, "Thank you, Mistress," and proceed to spread her legs out, lowered her right hand, and began to stroke it in and out of her still-wet pussy. There was no sound in the room other than the squishing noise as Laura pistoned her finger in and out of her pussy.

I surmised from Laura's response that this must have been part of their routine, that as Laura's Mistress, Susan probably made her touch herself to orgasm quite frequently. I looked over on my other side, and saw that Sarah had apparently recovered from her crashing orgasm, was breathing more normally, and had now propped herself up on one elbow to watch the action unfolding. Her gaze was glued to Laura as the young graduate student added first a second, and then a third finger to her first and began pushing all three in and out of her pussy.

It did not take long before Laura's breathing quickened and I could see she would orgasm soon. I had clearly brought her to the brink, and the little bit of work she was now doing to touch herself would get her over the edge. With a loud, "Ohhhhhhh," she came, the wetness of her pussy now gushing over the bedspread, leaving a large wet spot between her legs. She fell over, exhausted, on her side in a similar position to which Sarah had been just a few minutes earlier.

Susan walked over to that side of the bed, and reached down and began lightly stroking Laura's hair. "There you go, pet, wasn't that nice," she said to her in a soothing voice.

As Laura was able to catch her breath, she responded, "Yes, Mistress, thank you so much."

"You know I always take care of you, don't you my dear."

"Yes, ma'am," Laura said, still somewhat in a halted voice.

Susan now looked over at me, not saying a word. I looked over at her, not sure what would be happening next, somewhat curious, but also apprehensive. She reached down, and undid the tie holding her silk robe together. It fell open, displaying for me once again her shaved pussy and full breasts. Even in the dim light of the room I could see that her arousal was demonstrated by her nipples, which were standing at attention. It was clear that she had been enjoying the events that had been taking place.

She shrugged the robe off of her shoulders, and walked over and placed it on a chair in the bedroom of the suite. She walked around to the side of the bed where Sarah was, leaned down and whispered something in her ear. Sarah shifted around toward the foot of the bed, making a space for Susan where she had just been. Susan sat on the bed, and reached over and again began lightly stroking my cock. It quickly grew erect again, for what seemed like the tenth time tonight. She continued this for a couple of minutes until Laura was able to recover from her orgasm, and was able to sit up once again. She watched what Susan was doing with rapt attention, as was Sarah, from where she was seated on the foot of the bed.

Susan turned to me and said, "Okay, pet, you've done very well so far. Are you now ready for the final part of your training?"

"Yes, Mistress Susan," I replied, looking her in the eye.

"Good, I hope that this last activity will provide you with a clear understanding of your role with respect to women. After all, that was the purpose of all this, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled at me, and proceeded to get up on her knees next to me on the bed. She then, like the others, kicked a leg over my chest and began to straddle me. Knowing the drill, I prepared for her to sit on my face like the others had done, closed my eyes in anticipation of the event one more time, and waited. I felt Susan scoot forward a bit and pull herself up off of my chest just a little bit, and I got my tongue ready. But then she stopped.

"Open your eyes, pet, and look at me."

Not sure she was talking to me rather than Laura, I nevertheless opened them again. She was looking down at me from above, her shaved pussy only two inches or so from my face, hanging over my upper chest. I waited in anticipation, guessing that part of her mind game was to make sure I watched her pussy coming down on my face. "Don't take your eyes off of me," she said.

I did as instructed, looking at her without blinking, holding my breath. And then she began to rise off of me, kicking her leg over to the side, and for a moment, I thought maybe she had relented and decided I had had enough. I let out a breath, thinking that my ordeal was over.

But then instead of stopping, she continued her rotation 180 degrees, so that she was now straddling me again. But this time, she was facing toward my feet (and Sarah at the end of the bed). Instead of her pussy being inches from my face, it was her round, plump ass cheeks that were sitting on my upper chest. I stared at them, as the realization began to sink in as to what was going to happen. She was so close that I could not take in the whole sight in one view; I had to swivel my head a bit to look at one cheek, and then the other, split down the middle by her crack which started four or five inches or so above my chest and went down, disappearing somewhere in the middle of my chest.

"I told you to look at me," I heard Susan hiss, grabbing my attention back. I looked up at the sound of her voice, and saw her looking back over her shoulder at me. "You better do a good job, as good as you did with the other two, or we're going to be staying right here for a long, long time. Now get started."

Before I could say anything, she lifted up her ass, scooted back so that her crack was right above my mouth, and plopped down right on my lips. For a brief second I thought she was going to *** me, as I was taking the full weight of her upper body on my mouth and covering my nose. But then she lifted up a bit and I realized she was getting herself settled down on top of me, supporting most of her weight on her knees and thighs.

I hesitated for a second, never having been in this situation before. In all of our dominance and presentation sessions, Sarah had never made me do this to her. Yes, I had performed cunnilingus on her many times, but I had never been powerd to lick her ass. I didn't know what to expect; like most, I had the taboo of this being a dirty, forbidden part of the body. But I knew from Susan's tone, and from everything else that had happened, that my ordeal would not be over until I submitted to her demand.

The olfactory sensation was different from the other two women. I definitely smelled Susan's arousal when she first sat down facing me, a scent I had experienced before in the last two days. But now that she was turned around, her pussy facing away from me, the aroma was a different one. There was just a hint of her pussy, overwhelmed by a stronger, muskier odor that I knew was emanating from the rear part of her body. It was not disgusting me, it was just different.

I tentatively opened my mouth, and extended my tongue, and began to lightly lick one of her ass cheeks. It was smooth, covered with a very soft, downy hair, quite different from when I licked her pussy, the outside of which was rougher and just barely stubbly from having been shaved or waxed some time earlier. I continued licking around her cheek, as far as I could reach, given that I could only partially swivel my head as she had me effectively pinned. It was too big to reach all of it, at least from this position, but I did the best I could running both the tip and flat part of my tongue around her cheek, depositing some saliva where I went. Every now and then she shifted around a bit, providing me an opportunity reach parts of the cheek I had not yet explored.

After a few minutes of this, I shifted my attention to the other cheek, repeating the pattern. In all of this I avoided getting too close to her crack, which I could see had somewhat darker, heavier hairs on it from the top down to where it disappeared on top of my chest. She again shifted around, providing me with the opportunity to run my tongue all over her cheek again. As I did this, she began to stroke my cock, getting it fully erect once more.

After a few minutes on this side, she scooted down toward my feet, and I thought perhaps it would be over. She looked over her should again, down at me. "Very good, my little subbie boy. But there's still more for you to do," she said with a wry smile on her face. With that she stopped stroking me, and bent her body further forward, so that her large breasts were down around my knees, and she scooted back toward my face. This had the effect of splitting her two cheeks a bit, and bringing my face directly in contact with the crack of her ass. She left no doubt in my mind as to what she now wanted me to do. She didn't need to say anything else.

I again opened my mouth, and with my tongue, tentatively reached out and touched the top of her crack, which I could just reach in the position she was in. I ran it up and down the part of her crack I could feel, the musky scent surrounding my face, an intoxicating aroma enveloping me. As I did this, and realizing that the taste was not unpleasant, I pressed a little harder, leaving a little more saliva as lubrication as my tongue continued its travel up one side of the crack and down the other.

She then lifted up off of my chest a bit more, causing me to stop what I was doing, and giving my tongue a respite. She then shifted back even further, and there, right in front of me, was her wrinkled rosebud. The skin was redder than the rest of her ass, a star pattern, the size of a nickel or so, right in front of me, glistening with the combination of my saliva that had run down her crack, and, I suspected, her own juices from her pussy that had run back there. I realized this was where she had been heading all night, the ultimate part of my training: powering me to service her ass with my tongue. I opened my mouth once again, extended my tongue, and touched it gently to her rosebud. The sensation was what I expected, given its appearance; it was wrinkly, yet soft.

I began by running the tip of my tongue in a circular motion around the ring, getting it even wetter. As I did this I thought I heard an imperceptible sigh emanating from her face which was pressed down on my legs. I continued the circling, and as I did, the rosebud began to loosen up and give way slightly. This emboldened me to push toward it with the tip of my tongue, and as I did, it opened up further, allowing just a slight bit of entry. As I did this, Susan pushed back against me just a bit, making it easier for me to push harder. I did so, and I could feel my tongue gaining more entry into her now very wet asshole.

There was definitely more than just a muted sigh coming from Susan now, it was more like a moan. It was clear she was enjoying what I was doing, so I hoped that if I continued she would eventually orgasm and get off of me. My tongue was getting quite sore from all the pushing I was doing, but she didn't seem ready to relent, at least not yet. I kept extending my tongue into her ass and retracting it, trying to roll it around a bit when it was in her asshole. The wetter it got, the easier this was, and the more she was pushing back against me. Her moans picked up, keeping pace with the rocking of her plump ass against my face, until finally, she let out a wail and yelled, "PUSH IT IN DEEP!"

I did as she told, pushing with all my might, rolling it around inside of her asshole, and finally, she came with a hard grunt, riding my face and tongue. I did my best to hold on as she rocked rapidly back and forth, until she began to slow down, and then stopped, leaning back forward again, her body heaving up and down as her breathing slowed. I gladly retracted my tongue, giving it the break it so sorely needed.

After a few moments, Susan lifted herself up, and turned 180 degrees again, so that she was straddling me but now facing me. She looked down at me, and with a smile, said, "See pet, you've learned how to truly please a woman. I think you now understand your role in life, that you are here to keep women happy and to make sure they are pleasured. Don't you?"

Utterly defeated, I nodded and simply said, "Yes, Mistress," happy to have the ordeal apparently over.

As Susan climbed off of me, she sat next to me on the bed. She reached over and wrapped her hand around my cock, which was still quite erect. She looked at me, and smiling again, said, "But look, your pretty little subbie cock is still sticking up in the air, isn't it?" She turned toward Sarah and Laura, and asked them, "What do you think we should do about it, ladies?"

They both giggled, Sarah saying, "Whatever you think, Professor Bascom. You're the Mistress!" Laura simply shrugged her shoulders, indicating concurrence with what Sarah had said.

"Well, pet, we simply can't having you walking around like this, now can we? Tell you what -- you've done such a good job servicing the three of us, you deserve a little bit of that reward I talked about earlier. You even managed to get me off simply by sticking that wonderful tongue of yours right up my dirty ass. You didn't even have to touch my pussy you were so good." With that, she got up on her knees, and threw one leg over me, straddling me once again and facing me this time. I thought maybe she was going to have me lick her pussy now, but instead of shifting forward, she instead lifted herself up a bit, moved back, and plopped her very wet pussy right on top of my erect cock which had been sticking straight up.

To say I was shocked was an understatement. I didn't think there was any way she was going to do that, and yet there she was, sitting right on top of my cock. And she then began lifting up and down on it, the feeling of her wet, fully aroused pussy on my cock admittedly quite nice. I knew it was not going to take long to cum with all the stimulation I had had, so I lay back, closed my eyes, and waited for my orgasm to approach.

But after about 30 seconds of this, Susan surprised me by lifting herself off of me, saying as she did so, "There, that should be enough I would think." I had no clue what she was doing, so I opened my eyes, looking up into hers.

"You didn't think I was going to let you fuck me, did you, my pet?"

I was speechless for a second, but then managed to begin to mumble something about how I thought that's what she was doing.

"Oh no," she replied, "I was simply getting it nice and lubricated for you. You're going to get yourself off while we three women watch you."

I opened my mouth to say something, but couldn't find the words to respond to what she had just said. I simply lay there, my mouth open, stunned beyond belief at this final offense she was doling out to me.

"C'mon now, get to it before my lubrication dries up on you," she chuckled.

I could do nothing other than reach down with my hand, and begin stroking. She had gotten it very wet with her pussy juice, and my hand rode easily up and down the shaft. I looked down past my cock and I could see Sarah watching intently. I could see Susan next to her, watching also, with a broad smile on her face. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Laura on the other side, also watching.

"That's right, keep going," Susan urged me on. "Isn't he doing a great job wanking himself for us, ladies?"

Again, the other two just laughed and continued to watch. I continued the up and down motion, and I knew that in spite of everything that had happened, that I would cum soon. And I would be happy to, hoping that that would close the door on this torment. Up and down I continued, willing my orgasm to come, and finally it did, my cum spurting up in the air, depositing itself all over my hand and my stomach, as I grunted through it.

I heard Susan clap her hands and exclaim, "See, I knew he could do it. Professor Arnold has now learned that his job is to bring pleasure to women, and if he wants any of his own, it's up to him to provide it. Right, pet?" She tossed me the towel that had been on the bed and had been used previously to wipe my face.

I glared at her as I wiped the cum off of my hand and stomach.

"That's okay, pet, you don't have to respond." And with a wink, she turned to the other two and said, "I know he gets it now."

With that she got up, retrieved her robe and put it back on. She turned back to me and said, "Put your clothes on, Bob, and take Sarah back to your room. Laura, go get yourself cleaned up and then come on back here."

I got up, as did Sarah. I yanked the butt plug out of my ass, depositing it on the bed. Sarah put her clothes on, and I retrieved mine, putting them on in the living room of the suite. We headed toward the door to the hall, and after Sarah walked out into the hall, Susan came out of the bedroom and said, "Bye, Bob. I hope you enjoyed all the mentoring I've provided you."

Without looking back at her, I walked out the door, closed it, and led Sarah back to my room.

THE END

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Infidelity and Retribution


Chapter One

My name is Malcolm Andermister … last week I celebrated my 40th birthday with my family … my attractive wife Jill and our two youngren, a flower 15 and a mister 17. I will not name them or the city we live in to protect the family's full identity.

Jill and I are what, these days, is called a power couple. I am a very successful banker, specialising in consumer loans. Jill has reached the heights of the TV industry, being producer and director of the country's most successful TV soapy. Our parents and our kids, as well as aunts, uncles and cousins, helped me celebrate my big four-0 on a Saturday afternoon. My wife even rescheduled the weekly script meeting for her TV series, just to make it a great family celebration.

Here I am, only one week after that great party, sitting in my large garage, out at the back of the house, sifting through bags of accumulated stuff that, to my mind, is destined for the Rubbish Dump. I had designated this Sunday morning to be clean up day, rounding up what I considered to be bags of rubbish from all over my house and I was now sorting through it.

I rummaged through a black plastic bag and found a few items that identified the contents as mainly pertaining to Jill's work. 'I better leave this lot for her to go through,' I thought to myself. But something on a sheet of paper near the top of the bag caught my attention and I dug around a bit deeper. 'What the hell is this?' I asked myself as I scanned through what appeared to be pages and pages of e-mails, stored in a blue folder.

I read a part of one of the e-mails out loud to myself, "Randy, I never expected a man's tongue could have such a reaction on me. Seriously, a man going down on me has never before triggered such a fire inside me. You could see how violently I came and you were the one solely responsible for that. How does that make you feel, Randy? I would think pretty good. You have developed an art in the way you use that magic tongue of yours. You've hooked me, no man has ever made me cum like that, you glorious hunk."

I searched to the top of the page, looking to see who had written this and to whom. I immediately recognised my wife's e-mail URL as the sending address, but I was at a loss to identify who stud69 @ etc. etc. might be. I checked the date … my wife had sent it six months ago. I shuffled through the thick pile of pages, stopped at another. The date on this one was only ten days ago.

It read, 'My beautiful Randy, it breaks me up that I won't be able to see you this weekend. It's Mal's 40th birthday and all the family is coming over. It will be hard going without my weekly dose of your wonderful thick cock. I don't know how I will get through next week. Randy my love, the only consolation for me is that by being powerd to exist without having you fuck me stupid this Saturday, my need for your hard driving cock will be twice as great by next week. So you better be up to it, Saturday's matinee will be so much more intense.'

"What is this?" I asked aloud, "Saturday matinee … your wonderful thick cock … fuck me stupid … Jill doesn't talk that way, she couldn't have written this. And Saturday's, she has the script meeting every Saturday to prepare for taping the next week's scenes. She surely wouldn't have time to be doing something like this with whoever this Randy character is."

I leafed through the pages, there must be over a hundred and the messages were similar on each e-mail page. It was bizarre to me that my wife – who I thought to be my perfectly devoted and loyal wife – would write such lurid messages of enjoying sex to another man. 'What's more,' I pondered, 'why would she run such a risk by printing them out and leaving them in a bag in our home?'

I put the blue folder to one side and rummaged deeper into the garbage bag. There I found a red folder and opened it up, discovering another thick sheaf of A4 pages. At the top of the top page, I saw that the sender this time was that same stud69 email address and these were all sent to my wife's work e-mail. These must be the other half of this clandestine relationship.

I read part of the first message, 'Pumpkin, your cunt is like a liquid velvet-lined sleeve that sucks my cock into it and won't release me until I have pumped my life-giving nectar into your vital parts, giving you the energy to exist through another week. Every day without experiencing your carnivorous cunt is like being consigned to a primister away from all life's necessities. I crave for our Saturday's together.'

"What a load of crap," I muttered to myself out loud, then looked around me to check that neither my wife nor kids were close enough to hear my disgust at reading the thoughts of this man whom I assumed must be my wife's lover. But who was this Randy with a pompous stud69 title? Obviously a pseudonym and I assumed that Pumpkin must be his name for my wife, since I had noticed on all of her e-mails to the lover, she had signed them just P.

'What am I going to do about this … and how long has this been going on?' I mulled over these important considerations. 'Why would she be so blatant as to leave these around where I could find them? Although, she didn't really, I did have to climb up into the top of the closet to get this bag down. She must have thought they were well hidden. But still, why leave such damaging evidence of an affair lying around?'

My next task was to try to find out when this had started. I sifted through both folders, finding the earliest dates that seemed to be common in both. It looked to be 18 months ago. In fact, this earliest e-mail from my wife to Randy read: 'To tell you that I was surprised would be an understatement when you took me around the back of the set last night. What a strong young man you are, to be able to hold my body up like that and still give me two of the most powerful orgasms I have ever felt. I am going to call you Randy in case anyone should find this message. Only I will know your true identity. I know I shouldn't put anything like this in writing, but I had to tell you how wonderful and alive you made me feel. That was so exciting, I have never had sex like that, suspended in a man's arms, clinging on to him while his magnificent thick cock plundered me. You know I am going to want it again – and again – and maybe even again. When do you think we can get together next? Randy my love, please don't boast to anybody else on the show that you fucked the director. I cannot afford to have any friction on the set. You truly are my leading man.'

'You are my leading man,' I questioned, 'does that mean her lover is the leading man in the series? That would make him Jeremy Jackmister, but surely not … he's only late twenties, maybe thirty at a pinch. What would Jill and a young stud like that have in common? Stud, there's me calling him a stud, because his looks do fit the mental picture one would have of a stud. Maybe that's why his e-mail is stud69.'

I continued scanning through the pages, speed reading the paragraphs, trying to confirm the identity of the man who had captured my wife's affections. 'The prick, I'll teach him a lesmister if I can establish who it is. Surely they have been careless in one of these messages.' At last, I found a reference to the lover's 29th birthday and how Jill was going to give him his present when they met on the following Saturday. 'Your clue is it's something that you've wanted to do with my body since we met. I have decided that you have earned the honour of taking my sole remaining virginity. At last, my darling Randy, my arse will be all yours. No man, not even Mal, has been inside my virgin arse. I am a little bit scared, but I know you will be gentle. I have saved this something special just for you. Treat it with care.'

'Oh cuckolds brownie no, the number of times that I suggested to her that we try something like that, and she goes and gives it away to this young prick. Well, at least I now know that his 29th birthday was on August 5, so I only need to check Jeremy Jackmister's *** on the soap's website to check his age and birth date.'

I carefully put everything back where I had found them in the bag and walked back into the house to switch on the computer. I passed through the kitchen where my wife was cooking. "What are you up to, Mal?" she asked cheerily, even giving me a peck on the cheek as I went by her.

'How could she do that, how can she still be so warm and friendly to me when this time yesterday she was in the arms of her young lover, muttering things to him, like I have just read, as if he is God's gift to married women.' I wanted to blurt out something hard and aggressive and vengeful, but I held it all back for now. "I'm just getting some rubbish ready for the tip, honey."

"Oh great, I must have some junk under the stairs, don't leave until I've dug it out, will you, darling?"

I went directly to the computer and clicked on the website address of my wife's TV production. I went to the ***s of the star's section and there was the grinning face of the very handsome young actor, Jeremy Jackmister. 'Surely Mrs. Jackmister didn't call her mister Jeremy, that must be a stage name,' I thought as I searched for his birth date. There it was, August 5, born 1980. 'Twenty nine years old, just a kid! The bastard, rotten young stud cuckolds brownie! And it says he was born Jeremy Alan Jackmister. What's' more, the cuckolds brownie is married, been married two years to Nicole Richards, says here they met in high school.'

I closed the computer down and headed back outside. To avoid again passing by Jill in the kitchen, this time I cut through the laundry. The basket of dirty clothes waiting for my wife to put them into the washing machine caught my eye. 'I wonder if she would be careless enough to leave the evidence lying around. Maybe, if this affair has been going for 18 months, she has become careless.'

I looked around to ensure that neither Jill nor the kids were nearby and then I began sifting through the clothes hamper. I was nearly to the bottom of the container before I pulled out a pair of my wife's panties … they were her only panties in the hamper so I assumed they must have been from yesterday. I checked the inside of the crotch and, sure enough, they were caked with what looked to be an ample quantity of dried cum. Yesterday would have been her Super Saturday with Randy, making up for having missed the one before because of my 40th birthday party.

All the signs were there. I went back into the garage and continued poring over the contents of the e-mails. I had become so absorbed in reading the lovey-dovey mush transmitted between the two that I almost didn't hear Jill approaching. I just managed to get the folders back into the bags as my wife entered the garage and dumped some items that she had brought out from under the stairs.

"We're never going to use any of these again, darling. Will you take them when you go to the tip?"

"Yeah sure!" I answered, finding it hard to be civil toward my wife after all that I had just read.

"What's the matter, darling, you seem distracted," she asked, coming right up close to me, so close that I could smell her perfume. She was standing beside the chair I sat in, bending over me, an affectionate hand on my back.

"No, I'm fine, honey," I powerd himself to smile back at her. She moved around to stand directly in front of me, between my legs, hugging my face to her clothed belly. "I know what your problem is, you're not getting enough good loving. Is that it, darling? Would you like to slip into the bedroom and we'll have a matinee?"

'Matinee, damn her … I had never heard her refer to daytime sex as a matinee before. But there it was, the word she used regularly throughout her e-mails to Randy.' I cringed at hearing her address me similarly to the way she writes to him – her lover, 'How can she do that, talk to me like she talks to him … without any guilt?' I wanted to pull away from her affectionate hold.

"So what do you say, Mal? You haven't answered me, don't tell me you're losing your horny disposition. You've always been such a randy bugger. Are you going to knock me back for a quickie?"

'Cheating cuckolds brownie, now she was even using that word randy … the word by which she identified her young lover.' I pulled myself together, "Sorry honey, maybe when we go to bed tonight. I'd feel a bit awkward doing it with the kids around."

"Never seemed to bother you before, still it's your call. I could have done with a bit of your stiffie."

'Stiffie … where did she get that word, it had never been in her vocabulary before her affair. And how could she be wanting it today when, according to her e-mails, her Saturday lover fills all her needs, even her newfound anal preference, according to that birthday e-mail.'

Jill looked around the mound of rubbish bags in front of her husband, "Are you sure these are all rubbish, darling. Should I go through them just to make sure?"

"No, no!" I was quickly insistent, "I'm only discarding stuff of mine."

"Well, if you say so. It's just that I've got some permisteral stuff stored away in bags like that. I'd hate to think that you might discard some stuff that is precious to me."

She turned to go and I watched the movement of her still great arse in the summer dress, although the only picture I could conjure up in my mind, was of her bare arse filled with Randy's thick cock. Damn! I realised that Jill might now be heading to the closet to check whether her bag of stuff was still there. I had to get her black garbage bag of incriminating e-mails back into the closet. I called after her as she headed back into the house, "Tell you what, Jill, we will have that quickie. I want you right now."

"Oh really, what made you change your mind?"

"I caught sight of you with the sunlight coming from behind that dress you're wearing, the outline of your legs and your panties and that untouched arse of yours turned me on. How about I meet you in the bedroom in a couple of minutes. We'll go in separately so it doesn't look suspicious to the kids."

"Now you're talking, Mal, see you in there." I watched her go, knowing that I needed to get her into the bedroom to prevent her checking the hall closet. She appeared not to register any reaction to my use of the words 'untouched arse', yet she would know herself that it was no longer untouched by a male organ. She just never expected me to know that.

I followed about thirty seconds behind my wife and stopped off long enough to return her black plastic garbage bag, containing her incriminating e-mails, to the closet.

Then I entered our bedroom and closed the door behind me. I was alone with my wife for the first time since discovering that she had been cheating on me nearly every Saturday for the past 18 months. Could I do this … could I really get into bed and make love with my sneaky, conniving, cheating wife?

I had followed so soon behind her that she was still standing beside the bed taking off her watch. Her dress and bra had already been discarded and she looked up, wearing only her panties. "Do you want to be the one to take these off?" she asked teasingly, her thumbs tucked into her waistband.

"No, looks like you've got it," I told her, removing my shirt as I went to my side of the bed, unbuckling my belt. She shed the panties down over her hips and clambered into bed totally naked.

"Ooh, I like this, darling … we never do anything impromptu like this. We need this sort of spontaneity to keep our marriage fresh."

I found myself dwelling on every word she said, comparing the words she used with what she really must mean, given that she was now committed to a lover. I kicked my trousers away, dropped my boxers and was surprised to see that I already had half an erection.

"Umm, what have you been reading out there in the garage?" she teased.

"What do you mean?" my guilt-laden over-reaction nearly bringing me undone.

Jill looked at me with suspicion, "Only that you're already half big. I wondered if you'd found something raunchy to read that would make you randy."

'There she was again, using her lover's nickname … damn her!'

Looking down at my semi-erect cock, her observation made me curious. Indeed, why would I be in an aroused state after reading of her infidelity with Randy. There should be nothing to get turned on about in learning of your wife being with another younger man.

She slid her body into my arms when I got into our bed. I didn't feel like making love to my wife, given the revelations that I had just uncovered in the garage. But I was here to keep her from checking that her secret stash was still in the hall closet.

Her face and her parted lips told me that my wife wanted to be kissed, so I reluctantly obliged. While I felt that I was being hypocritical in kissing my wife, the melding of our tongues did wonders for my hard-on that had now sprung up to full erection. Wanting this done quickly, I rolled my body on top of Jill's and pushed my legs between hers.

"Boy, what's the rush?" she asked, anticipating a longer foreplay that was normal for us.

Undaunted, I used my fingers to place my hard round knob at her vaginal opening and pushed.

"Can you give me time, darling? I need a minute, we're doing this from a standing start."

Shutting out her voice and ignoring her request, I thrust my hard-on into my wife without care or concern. She grunted at the premature entry and tried to adjust her legs around mine to open up her passage.

I had gotten it all the way into her vagina with only limited moisture. Still not caring to wait for her body to react, I pulled back and thrust hard again, sinking it once more to the hilt.

"Oh Jesus, Mal, what's got into you? Please, not like this … you're always so gentle and caring."

"Not this time," I told her as I quickly got into a hard driving rhythm with my cock. Jill was powerd to make the most of a bad situation, hanging on for the ride. She didn't have to put up with it for long. My single selfish pursuit this time was getting off inside my wife … and the quicker the better.

Jill was even more stunned when she felt my cum blasting at her uterus … too soon it was over. I guessed that she wanted to say a lot to me, starting with how could I be so uncaring, so thoughtless in ignoring her needs. But she held back, watching my face. She had never seen me like this in all the years we had been married. She wouldn't like what she saw here in our bed this Sunday. I imagined that she would be thinking, 'Just as well for Randy, it's just a shame that I've got to wait all the way until Saturday for him to do me like I deserve to be done.'

Chapter Two

So my wife of 18 years is cheating on me … a lying, cheating adulteress. How should I handle this information? Do I challenge her about it, bring our marriage to a bitter end. Strangely, I don't want to do that, because she wins. No, what I seek is retribution … I want revenge on the young smart arse who has alienated my wife's affections. I am actually angrier at him than I am at my wife.

My first chance to again access the black plastic garbage bag of damning evidence was Tuesday. My wife was at work, but I came home through the day … my work hours are sufficiently flexible through the week that I can disappear from my office for long periods without an inquisition. I again removed the folders of e-mails, took them to my office and photocopied them all before Jill got second thoughts about keeping such revealing information in our closet.

I hired a private detective to follow my wife when she left the house, ostensibly heading for her script meeting, the following Saturday. The investigator called me within an hour to advise that she had checked in at a suburban motel. Ten minutes after she arrived, a young man, who the private eye identified as the well known star of the TV soap, drove into the motel and went straight to Jill's room.

I immediately left my house and drove to the motel where I took a photograph of the two cars – my wife's and Jeremy's (aka Randy) parked alongside each other, just as their bodies would be in that motel room. I downloaded two pictures that the pi had taken of my wife and Randy arriving at the motel room and thanked him for his work.

Then I drove on to Jeremy's house … my wife had once pointed it out to me when we drove past it. I arrived there just before noon and rang the bell. His young and very attractive wife, Nicole, answered the front door. We had met before, but only once. I wasn't sure if she would remember me. I was quite surprised when she greeted me with "Mr. Andermister, what are you doing here?"

"Nicole, I need to talk to you about something very permisteral, have you got time to talk to me now?"

Without hesitation, she threw the screen door open, "Yes of course, please come in."

I did and began to follow her into the lavish beachside house that came with the success that her errant husband had achieved in TV stardom. This young woman was stunning, blonde hair that looked like it could be long, but was all piled up on her head. She had a fabulous figure that curved in all the right places … and long legs that went all the way up to that arse. As I walked behind her, I wondered if that arse could be her best feature … the way it moved. I pictured it naked and I admired the cheeks that rolled separately … she wore a summer dress that seemed to cling to her body.

"I was about to get myself some lunch, can I offer you anything?"

"That's very kind of you, but I'm okay. I've sort of lost my appetite," I told her, not wasting time on getting to the reamister for my visit.

"Oh, why is that?"

We reached the living room and she pointed me toward a lounge chair. "I'll get to that in a moment, but first of all, I am honoured that you remembered me … we only met once. Did I make a lasting impression, or am I known as that famous TV director Jill Andermister's husband?"

"No, not at all … I remember you because I thought at the time that you were quite a handsome man. And you seemed to have a good sense of humour, I think that is so important in a man. I remember us talking about writing, you said that you used to do some. I had always wanted to pursue a career in journalism, but then I met Jeremy. His star was on the rise and the idea of me developing a career took a back-seat to his fame."

"Do you resent him for that, Nicole … that his success deprived you of making a name for yourself?"

"No, not at all, I admire all that Jeremy has achieved, but I do have occasional what-if moments when I ponder what I might have been able to do."

"You never know, circumstances might make it possible for you to follow your dream one day."

"That's a funny thing to say, why would you suggest that?"

I fidgeted uneasily in the chair, sitting across from the attractive young woman. "Nicole, I don't quite know how to start this … I really wish that I didn't have to tell you, but now that I know, it seems only fair to you to tell you what's been going on … behind our backs."

"What … what's going on … what are you talking about?"

"Infidelity, Nicole … that's the reamister for my visit. My wife and your husband have chosen to ignore their marriage vows and cheat on both of us."

"What are you saying … no, Jeremy wouldn't do that." Despite her instant denial, Nicole's eyes had quickly welled up with tears. "Don't say something like that unless you are totally certain … I won't listen to any rumours."

"I am sorry, sweetheart, I have wrestled with this all week, I only found out myself last Sunday. I wouldn't dare to tell you unless I was one hundred per cent sure. Where do you think he is right now?"

"He's at a script meeting with the production team, like he is every Saturday."

I pulled the camera from my pocket and hit the review button, quickly locating the pictures I had from the motel. I got up and walked across to where Nicole was sitting and sat down alongside her, "I took this picture on the way over here. It's the Twin Towers Motel and he's in Room 22 with my wife and I would imagine by now they are fucking each other's brains out. You will see your husband's car and my wife's car conveniently parked alongside each other outside Room 22."

I flicked the button to bring up the other two photos, that I got from the pi, of Jill and Nicole's husband arriving at the motel room. The cars hadn't made as much impact as her actually seeing the couple going into that room. She reeled back, her hands clasped over her face as the tears began to roll down her cheeks.

"How did you learn about all this?" she asked between sobs.

From my bag, I produced a folder full of the photocopied e-mails, "Jill was stupid enough to keep every e-mail she has sent to Randy…"

"Who's Randy?"

"Oh sorry, Randy is my wife's pet name for your Jeremy … she is Pumpkin to him."

"No, I'm Pumpkin, I've always been Pumpkin to him."

"Well, in that case, he's not very original, he's given her your name."

Tears were rolling down her cheeks, but she struggled to wipe them away so she could look through the pile of paper on my lap, "Has he sent e-mails to your wife too?"

"Yes, they're all there, she kept them separate though, in two different folders. When I copied them, I threw them all in together."

"Do you know how long this has been going on?" she asked, wiping more tears from her cheeks.

"It would seem to be 18 months based on the start of the e-mail collection and the wording of that first e-mail."

"The lying prick," she was getting angry now. I folded my arm around her shoulders and pulled her head to rest on mine. She was very emotional and she didn't resist.

"Let it go, Nicole, I feel your grief too, we're both in the same boat."

She did as I suggested and then broke into sobs. We had been sitting forward on the lounge. In the midst of the worst of her sobbing, I gently eased us both against the back of the lounge. For a moment, she tensed in alarm, and I expected she might ask what I was up to. But then, she went with it and just let it happen. She smelled good … real good.

I couldn't believe that I was sitting here on the lounge, with my arm around such a beautiful young woman. I brought my other hand up and ran my fingers gently over her hair. "I wish that I didn't have to be the one to tell you … in fact, what I wish more is that there was no story to tell. But you have a right to know before he makes a fool of you, just as my wife has made a fool out of me."

Nicole was trying to control her tears now. She brought one hand up to wipe her eyes and then she did a strange thing, her hand played with the buttons on my shirt, appearing to now be encouragingly comfortable with my arm around her. "No Malcolm, you did the right thing … as much as it hurts, I had to be told. So what's going to happen now?"

"Well honey, I consider my marriage is shot to bits, even though I haven't confronted Jill yet. I don't know if she has a plan for when she got caught. It's probably too early for you to know what you'll do about it. As for the two of us, I guess we should try to console each other … try to forget about what they're doing with each other in that motel room this very moment."

She pulled her head back to look into my eyes, giving me a strange look of suspicion, "What do you mean by consoling each other? And if it means what I think you might mean, how could that do either of us any good?"

"Might make us both feel a bit better, physically and mentally," I suggested, "and revenge wise, we could both feel satisfied that we're giving them back some of their own medicine."

She still looked at me with suspicion, like maybe I was taking advantage of a bad situation … I guess I was. But to my surprise, she let her head fall back into the crook of my neck, seeming to snuggle herself in a bit closer to me on the lounge.

We sat there in silence for many minutes, it might have been ten, but it had to be at least five. "So I'm just curious, Malcolm, you seem to think that we should do the same as them. But what would happen if you and I did do it now? Would we each confront them when they get home and tell them what we'd done?"

"I haven't thought it through that far," I confessed.

"So are you saying that you did or didn't come here with a plan in mind?"

"It wasn't cut and dried, Nicole. I really came here to tell you what was going on because it was only fair that you should know … and to offer you a shoulder to cry on. And I'm real pissed at your husband, so I guess, if the circumstance arose, then yes, I thought maybe we could do it."

"Do you feel anything for me, Malcolm … or are you just an opportunist taking advantage of a bad situation?"

"Obviously, I find you to be a beautiful young woman so I have to admit I desire you greatly. I am also hurting big time by the way my wife has treated me, as no doubt you are by what Jeremy has done. So revenge is a key factor in my mind at this time. In the cold light of day, it possibly won't do anything to remedy the situation, but for an hour or so, it could make you and I feel extremely good."

"Can you guarantee that, Malcolm?"

"I'd say so, Nicole," I told her, relishing the chance to try.

She pulled her head up off my shoulder once more and eyeballed me from one foot away, looking deeply into my eyes. I wondered what she was thinking … was she weighing up the prospect of vengeful adultery that I had just put to her?

Without uttering one word to me, she stood up and held one hand out toward me. I took it and she began to walk, towing me along like a recalcitrant schoolboy. I didn't know the layout of their house, so I was unaware if I was being taken into a bedroom or out the front door.

Until we reached the stairs that led up to what I assumed would be the bedrooms would be. At the top of the stairs, we turned and entered what had to be the master bedroom, the room she shared with her Jeremy. As the two of us passed by the bed, she let my hand go and I stopped there … that's where I wanted to be. She continued on alone to the window where she drew the curtains closed.

Once upon a time, I would have been supremely confident at this stage, sensing that I was about to get laid, but many years of marriage, and the familiarity of only being with one woman, had altered my perspective. Now, finding myself alone with a beautiful woman - at least a decade younger than me - was placing unexpected pressure on me not to stuff this up. This young woman would be feeling extremely vulnerable and needed me to act responsibly.

Damn it, if I was acting responsibly, I wouldn't have come here and hit on her … but this was my half-baked scheme to get back at the young man – her young man - who had stolen the affections of my wife.

I wanted to see this beautiful young woman while I made love to her, yet she had just darkened the room, shutting the daylight out. I switched on a bedside lamp and turned to face her as she returned from the window and walked right up to me, standing to one side of her bed … the massive bed that she shared with her husband.

She lifted one hand and did something at the back of her head that caused her hair to suddenly tumble down to her shoulders. She shook her head the way women do when they have just freed their long hair and it cascaded back and forth around her shoulders. "That's nice," I told her, anxious to break the silence of the bedroom.

"What is?" she asked, appearing to be nervous too.

"Your hair, I like it down … I like the shine … I like the way it flows down around your shoulders. You look even prettier now, if that's possible."

"Thank you!" she acknowledged, appearing to blush. She lowered her face and buried it against my chest, giving me a chance to place both hands on her back, holding her to me. "I'm very nervous," she mumred against my chest, "I haven't had another man since I married Jeremy … I'm not sure if I can go through with this." She lifted her face and, up close, looked into mine, "Would you be very disappointed if I have to stop?"

"Of course I would, but I don't want to make you do anything you're not comfortable about."

We still looked intently into each other's eyes, looking for signs, our faces close. "It might help if you kiss me … would you do that?" she asked.

Without hesitation, I did. It was a positive sign, but I felt inept that she had to tell me to do it. The kiss began with just a touching of closed lips, so chaste. But then my lips began to nibble on hers and she let them part. The space was just enough for me to squeeze the tip of my tongue through, making electric contact with hers. She opened her mouth wider … and the kiss became much more passionate.

My hands roamed over her back, gripped her arse and pulled her against me, urging her to feel the bulge in my trousers like a teenager would. Her hands were active too, they wrapped around my back, content to hold me to her while our lips and tongues clashed torridly.

I continued to hold her clothed arse cheeks in my hands, pulling her against my groin. She seemed to push back, grinding her pubis into mine. This seemed encouraging and I wanted her naked as soon as possible. Our mouths and tongues were still interlocked in rapturous passion, but I wanted more … and now.

I tore my mouth away and transferred my mouth to her neck, planting love bites and looking down her back, able to now watch my hands slowly tugging her light summery dress up higher and higher. Drawing the hem up her thighs, out over the prominent twin mounds of her arse, eventually scrunching the material of her dress into one of my hands at the back of her waist. My other hand pushed into the waistband of her panties, my fingers at last able to lightly caress the smooth soft skin of her pale arse cheeks.

She whimpered at my caressing touch. Emboldened, I pushed one finger into the crease of her arse, insinuating it into the tightness between her cheeks until my fingertip touched her anus. "You're a very naughty man," she told me as my mouth continued to work on the skin of her neck.

"Why?"

"For touching me there," she whispered sensually and I felt her arse cheeks clench tightly on my probing finger.

"I'm only doing what feels good to me," I told her, giving my lips and tongue a short break. "That's some fine tight arse you've got, I can't believe he doesn't appreciate it."

She tensed and I was fearful that I had said the wrong thing. "You don't need to talk about him. I don't want to be reminded of where he is … and what he might be doing."

I felt her hands moving from around my back where they had held my body tightly against hers. They slid around each side of my hips and met again at my waist, managing to squeeze between our bodies. I felt her fingers busy at my belt and eased myself back away from her, giving her hands more room to move.

I knew that she had unzipped my trousers because, to do it, her fingers needed to pass down over my hard-on that was squashed upright within my underpants. My middle finger was still wedged into her arse cleavage, the tip clamped against her tiny anal opening.

"Do you touch every woman like this?" she asked.

"You mean on her arse," I checked.

"Feels like you're almost in it."

"Would you like me to be?"

She pulled her head back away from mine so she could look up into my eyes, "Umm … not now … maybe a bit later. Can I take a rain-check?"

What was that fool Jeremy doing in that motel room with my wife when he had such a hot sexy woman here at home?

I felt her hand pulling the top of my underpants out and over my erection, freeing it from the confines of my clothing. She wrapped her soft warm hand around it, holding it gently and with respect, "Feels really nice," she said, fondling it.

I eased my finger out of her arse, letting her dress fall back down, transferring my hand's attention to the buttons at the top of her dress, in front. I managed to get it to part down the front and quickened the process of undressing her by pushing the dress off her shoulders. Only her bra separated my lips from her nipples. For a moment, I was content to kiss them through the sheer material of her bra before lifting the cups out of the way and suckling on her orbs.

The lovely young Nicole was obviously feeling weak from my oral attention to her breasts … I could feel her body pulling back away toward the bed. I allowed myself to go with her. Within seconds, she was on her back, one leg up and bent at the knee, the other hanging over the side of the bed … but she was still wearing her panties. Her move to the bed had caused her hand to lose its hold on my hard cock. Prominently stiff, it waggled above her, capturing her avid attention.

"Umm … that looks as good as it feels," she told me, her words seeming to fulfil my expectations.

"I'm glad you approve."

"Would you like for me to suck you?" she asked as if she was offering me a cup of tea.

"That would be nice," I agreed, not wanting to miss out on anything.

She lifted her head and shoulders, supporting her upper body on her elbows. I eased my body forward, bringing the tip of my erection up to her parted lips. She closed those succulent lips around the head of my cock and with mouth and tongue, began to give me a near perfect blow job. How good could this get? She was sensational … she was ten years younger than my wife … but she wasn't my wife.

I could very easily let her take this to a logical conclusion, but there was so much else I wanted to share with young Nicole. When I sensed that the feel of her mouth around my cock was becoming way too addictive, I pulled back my hips, causing my hard eager cock to plop free of her grasping mouth.

"Please, let me do it all?" she pleaded, obviously wanting to go on with what she had started.

"Plenty of time for that later," I told her, pushing her back onto the bed once more. I hovered above her hot body, gazing down on all that was displayed before my eyes. I reached down and grasped the waistband of her panties and tugged them down. She willingly – albeit eagerly – raised her hips to let her final covering slip away.

Nicole resumed the previous position, one leg raised and bent at the knee, the other straight out, falling over the side of the bed. She slowly spread her thighs as I watched, the moistened lips of her labia opening, parting to expose the pink inner lining.

It took all of my restraint not to position my now hard cock and plunge it into this receptive young woman, but I controlled that lustful wanting and instead began lowering my mouth toward her awaiting pubis.

"You don't have to…" she warned. "It's not expected, just because I sucked you."

"Are you kidding me? This is my favourite thing, I love the taste, the aroma, I love to feel all the good bits under my tongue and between my lips."

Her whole body shuddered at my words, "Umm … that's good, because some men don't like to do it, you know."

"So I've heard. Well, don't count me as one of them … and I don't think it smells fishy, either."

She talked of some men as if she was highly experienced. Had she enjoyed other men since marrying Jeremy, or was she referring to men she might have known before him. I made a mental note to ask her later.

My tongue tip touched down and her body jumped in reaction to it. I then swiped the flat of my tongue up along the spread of her labia and was met with an even stronger reaction. She moaned and her body wriggled under my oral contact. "Oh my God, that's so nice!"

My tongue laved her all the way to the top of her crease and I licked her emerging clitoris too. That got an even stronger response, "Oh yes!"

I lifted my lips from her clit momentarily, "Sounds like you approve…"

"Don't stop," she screamed at me, "Not even to talk … just do it!" Her hands took a firm hold on my ample supply of hair, tugging my face in tighter to the inverted vee at the top of her thighs. I found difficulty in breathing with my face mashed against her mons.

I stuck out my flattened tongue to swipe it once more up over her clit. She shuddered in response, emitting a sensual moan … but otherwise said nothing. I pressed on to bring my wet lips into play, sucking as well as licking her hardened clitoris.

Her lower body humped rapidly up at my face that was squashed between her clamping thighs, my tongue riding her all the way to a peaking arousal that culminated in a powerful throbbing finish for Nicole.

When I lifted my mouth from her delectable pubis, I looked up to her face to see her smiling appreciatively. "Perhaps my excuse for enjoying it so much is that no man has ever done me as effectively as that before. Can you accept that?"

"If you tell me that it's so," I told her.

Her wonderful breasts were within range of my vision … and within range of my mouth as I moved down to devour them, intent on bringing Nicole's arousal back to the surface. My cock was pulsing too from my own arousal. Her nipples became very hard, my lips and tongue gorged myself on them.

Her eagerly responsive body was close again … and I was more than ready. I left her breasts and concentrated on lining up my firm erection for entry into this delightful young woman. Her body was highly active and into this from the moment the head of my cock slid all the way home inside her vagina. Nicole gave off the impression that she was a highly sexual woman. No wonder my seduction of her had seemed easier than I had anticipated. In spite of her grief at my devastating news about her marriage, she was going to get the most out of this casual sexual encounter.

My wife had certainly never been like this woman … her supple body moved around beneath mine, making her more than just an active participant. It was like she was trying to run the show from under my body. Her next two peaks of orgasm were enormous … she was loud and breathless … and looked to derive maximum satisfaction from the act.

When I could no longer hold myself back, I took my pleasure inside her body without guilt. I was just a mature man enjoying a unique sexual experience in the body of a woman ten years younger than me. I never held back, blasting my cum deep inside her, not even conscious that this was a woman in the midst of her young-bearing years, who may have preferred I use some form of protection against pregnancy.

She never raised an objection as she felt my warm cum spurting up inside her, so I assumed that she had long-term protection well in hand. We lay together in the after-glow … neither of us spoke. I guess we were reflecting on the fact that we were both now as guilty of infidelity as our respective partners.

One coupling seemed to be enough for this first day of adultery between us. As we dressed again, we discussed how we each intended to handle the newly discovered 18 months long conduct of our spouses. Nicole's initial reaction was to confront Jeremy tonight, while her anger was at its strongest. I urged her to consider relaxing on it for a few days, reflecting on how she could achieve the best outcome for herself.

"Do you want him back … do you want him to stay with you? If you do, then you need some time to work out the best approach to achieve that aim. On the other hand, Nicole, if you can be certain that your marriage is over, that you cannot forgive him for regularly fucking my wife, then confront him as soon as you want, and kick his arse out of the house. Go get yourself a lawyer and secure your financial future."

"You're right, I need to think about this first, maybe talk to my mum and dad…" As I slipped my shoes back on, she walked across to me, "…maybe even have you come here again next Saturday." She was smiling warmly, like she had thoroughly enjoyed her hour or two spent in the arms of another man.

I was pleased with what had happened here today. I had come here, bent on revenge against the young man that had stolen the affections – and maybe even the love – of the woman who I had ostensibly married forever. Although, given the current circumstances, forever was looking extremely shaky. We made a firm commitment for me to come around for lunch the following Saturday – and whatever accompanying condiments that might entail.

Chapter Three

My pursuit of Jeremy's wife was only the first step in alienating the affections of the women around him. I sent the private investigator out on a second mission, to uncover the movements of Jeremy's lady. On Thursday morning, he called me to report, "Can you get away, Mr. Andermister … I mean right now?"

"I think I can swing that … why, what's happening?"

"Your target is out on her own, she appears to be food shopping … I just followed her to a supermarket on Glen Street, not far from your office."

"I'll meet you outside in ten," I told him and left my office immediately, telling my pa that I had an urgent client meeting that might also involve lunch. "I'll see you when I see you," I informed her non-committally.

I met the investigator outside the supermarket within eight minutes, he showed me a photo he had taken of Jeremy's lady a few minutes ago. I noted the clothes that she was wearing to help me identify her. I thanked him and proceeded inside, taking a trolley to push around to look like a genuine shopper. Although how typical would I be, in my smart and neat suit and tie with crisp white shirt?

I spotted her down the fourth aisle I had tried, she was walking away from me so I was able to approach her from behind. This was the loving lady of the adulterous prick who was fucking my wife, and she had quite a good figure for a woman of, I would guess, around 55. She curved in all the right places and, wearing a skirt, not slacks, I could see that her legs still had a good shape about them.

The plan had seemed easy in my mind, that was warped by the actions of my wife in spending every Saturday with her lover Jeremy … I would simply respond by seducing every woman that was near and dear to him. I had his wife and looked like having her again on Saturday, but now I was standing only a trolley's length behind my second target, his lady. I became nervous, unsure if I could do this now.

She stopped in the Toiletries aisle and I pushed my still empty trolley alongside hers that was now half full with assorted groceries. "Excuse me," I said to the surprised woman, "Can I just lean across your trolley to get something."

She turned and gave me a warm, engaging smile, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be blocking the aisle."

"No problem, I could have stood back and waited for you … but I find where there's an attractive mature woman, you take the opportunities that are presented to you."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"Just what I said … I like talking to lovely women and if one is standing in front of one of the items that I came in to buy, why not go right ahead and tell her that she is attractive."

"Well, thank you very much, that's very nice of you. I don't hear that sort of comment much these days."

"Well you should."

"I particularly don't hear it from men as young as you." She had already looked at me closely enough to deduce that there was a considerable age gap … could she see that it was as much as 15 years?

"I'm older than I may appear," I suggested, not wanting to discourage her by appearing to be too young for her.

She glanced down at my empty trolley, "You don't appear to have bought much in here."

"I hadn't seen anything I wanted…" I paused while I pointedly looked her up and down, "…until now," I added, giving her a warm smile and stretching across her trolley to take a bottle of male deodorant off the shelf. I wasn't that subtle, she would have to pick up on the double entendre.

"And now you have," she said, watching me take the deodorant bottle off the shelf.

"Have what?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"Seen something that you want."

"I sure have!" I told her, my look laced with innuendo.

"Surely you're not that enthusiastic about a bottle of deodorant?"

"The deodorant is just an inanimate object … no, what I saw when I came down this aisle - and what I desired - is a living, breathing mature woman."

"Really!" she smiled with assurance, accepting my compliment. "That's a very nice thing to tell an older woman … but what did you really come in here looking for?"

"I could say an exciting adventure, but the supermarket seems an unlikely place for that."

She looked bemused, but was probably even more so when I reached across her again and my fingers handled one of the condom packs on the shelf in front of her, "I wonder if these come in extra large."

She had to laugh this time, "How often do you try out these lines?"

I placed my hand on my heart, "I swear, this is the first time … never before," and I gave her my most genuine look.

"Why me then? Look around you, check out all those pretty young housewives, your own age or younger … they might buy your pick-up lines."

"They probably have gym class to go to after this, maybe even screaming kids at home. But you, I walked up behind you, checked out your figure … I must admit that I thought you had the figure of a younger woman. Then I saw your face, you're so beautiful. I had a sudden urge to talk to you … I promise that I have never done this before … it was a spur of the moment thing. Now you can tell me to piss off if you want, but how about having a coffee with me?"

"I can't believe this … are you serious? Are you really trying to pick me up? You must be twenty years younger than me."

"I'll bet I'm not … I had my fortieth birthday not two weeks ago. How old are you?"

She looked to be taken aback, "You don't ask a woman her age, particularly not a woman of my age."

"Why, what are you, late forties, I should think?"

She looked at me unbelievingly, not accepting that I might consider that she looked under 50, "You're still chatting me up, aren't you?"

"No, seriously, there's not such a big gap between us."

She looked around her nervously, as if fearful that someone may hear this conversation. "I'm 53, so there is a gap of thirteen years."

That was good, she was now assessing how big the age difference was. Her thought pattern seemed to be crossing the path of my illicit intentions.

"So what about that coffee?" I was pressing her for a commitment. "Here at the mall, or back at your place?"

"My place?" she almost screamed it at me, probably in shock that I would suggest invading her permisteral space.

I chose to read it the other way, "Good call, your place it is," I responded quickly and with confidence.

"No, no! I didn't mean that to sound like I was agreeing by saying my place. I was just repeating what you had said … I was shocked that you would suggest it."

"Why shock?"

"I was genuinely shocked that a man I've never met before would dare to chat me up in the supermarket … that this man would be more than ten years younger than me ... and that he would actually invite himself to my home."

"Don't you find the prospect exciting … alone in your own home, with a younger man that you have only just met. All the time wondering what he might expect from you … and you, considering what you might have to give to him."

Jeremy's lady again looked around nervously, wondering if other customers in the supermarket could hear this young man attempting to seduce her without even having touched her yet.

"So shall we go then?" I asked of her.

She looked apprehensive, "Err … oh dear, I don't know if I should."

"It's just coffee," I explained and I thought that she looked disappointed by that.

I peered into her trolley, "Have you got everything that you came in for?"

"Oh, I guess so … what about you? You don't seem to have bought much."

I reached across her again and took the 12 pack of extra thin condoms off the shelf, "Am I going to need these?"

"Please yourself," she responded, but with a glint in her eye.

I leaned in close to her ear, "I'd like to please someone more than myself." Her nervousness returned, her eyes revealing that she was tempted, but that she was still unsure of what she wanted.

We both headed for the checkout, then walking from the supermarket through the mall to her car. I helped by placing her bags of shopping on the back seat of her car. "Do you want to give me your address, or should I just follow you in my car?"

"You really are serious, aren't you? You're expecting to come to my house for a cup of coffee … or whatever?"

"I'll have a serve of whatever please," I said, trying to give her my most engaging smile.

She still appeared nervous, but she managed to express a laugh at my attempted humour. She paused to look all around the vast car park. I didn't know if she was apprehensive whether somebody she knew might see her, or if she was using the time to contemplate whether she wanted this.

It seemed an eternity before she turned back to face me and make eye contact, "How about you follow me?"

So I did, I hurried across to my car and drove it back to where hers was parked. She was still there. I had thought that she might experience a moment of guilt and take off before I had brought my car around. I followed her for about three kilometres to a nice looking house in one of the better suburbs. She pulled into the driveway, but I drove one house beyond and pulled up at the kerb, respecting any concerns that she may have about neighbours seeing us.

I sat in my car, watching through the rear-view mirror as she bent over into her car to retrieve her bag of groceries. Her skirt rode up to mid thigh at the back … she had good legs for a 53 year old. My thoughts wandered for a moment, wondering what the sex with her was going to be like. Would she be hot and participate fully … or lay back inactive and worry about what her husband might say if he knew what she was doing? This was a whole new experience for me, I had never had an older woman.

Watching her walk to the front door of her house, I quickly got out of my car and hurried across her lawn to the same door. She had left it open and I stepped inside, closing it behind me. The house was quiet and there was no clue as to which way she had gone. I checked out the front living room but she wasn't there. I walked down the hallway, looking in and passing the dining room, then found a kitchen. Her bag of groceries was sitting on the kitchen table, but she was nowhere to be seen.

I continued on down the hallway, peeping in doors until I at last spotted her up ahead of me, standing in the doorway of the last room at the end of the hall. She was leaning back against the doorjamb, her body thrust seductively forward by having her hands and arms back behind her. She looked to be playing the game now.