index


Message-ID: <50099asstr$1104858602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: El Sol <munster@eden.rutgers.edu>
Subject: {ASSM} The Six Pills of Domination by ElSol (5/7)
Lines: 1515
Date: Tue,  4 Jan 2005 12:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d





        This email address is NOT read. If you wish to contact me please
do so ONLY at munster(at)remus(dot)rutgers(dot)edu.

	Thank you
	ElSol

<1st attachment, "Ennui5.txt" begin>

Pill 5



   Dosing Cheryl proved difficult.

   She had a subtle distrust of people that I never noticed until I tried
to get her a drink.  At first, I thought she avoided allowing me do things
for her because of our roles, but after a frustrating couple of days I paid
closer attention to how she interacted with anyone near her.

   It was small things.

   Cheryl's body moved around people in an unconscious fashion, as if they
were furniture that she did not want to bump into.  Her shoulders tensed
when someone came into physical contact with her, even for a handshake. 
She reacted to unexpected movement like an untrained fighter reacting to a
feint.

   My mother's awareness of Cheryl's behavior surprised me, which was
followed by an intuitive leap that the two women shared certain mannerisms.

   At the time though, these were only the symptoms of a problem I needed
to overcome so I did not consider why the women behaved so strangely and
similarly.  I only cared that Cheryl's use of zealous solicitness to
control her interactions with people was making it impossible to get what I
wanted.

   Week two of 'No thank you, David, but can I get you something?' placed
me perilously close to the edge.  It was the wrong time for someone to have
a problem with Michelle becoming my girlfriend.

   "I'm talking to you, asshole!" that someone yelled loudly.

   It was a bright Monday morning and I was leaning against the building
across from the doors I used to enter the school.  As if my frustration
with Cheryl were not bad enough, I spent a rare weekend alone because Maria
acquired a new boyfriend, Michelle's parents grounded her over a massive
fight with her older sister, and Miss Malone visited family.

   I did not mean to ignore the individuals trying to get my attention: not
that it would have made a difference had I been more attentive.

   The small circle motion to trap the wrist of the hand that grabbed my
arm was automatic.  The grip released the instant I applied pressure.

   "Don't do that again," I said without looking at who put their hand on
me.

   I had expected the confrontation, but not the location they chose.

   "Leave him alone!" Michelle said loudly from the front of a growing
crowd.

   Our classmates smelled blood and gathered like vultures.

   "Shut up, bitch!" one of the football team's sycophants growled.

   I turned to see that four guys had chosen to put me back in what they
thought was my place, two bootlickers and a pair of benchwarmers.

   "Apologize to her," I said to the one that had spoken.

   "Go fuck yourself!" he spat.

   "I don't need to," I replied.  "I have Michelle...  you know, like the
football team has your ass when the cheerleaders are at practice."

   Everyone's heads snapped back at my words.

   "The bitch is our property, faggot!" the bootlicker snarled.

   "Let me get this straight," I said calmly.  "This is about Michelle and
me being an item, right?  Yet the best insult you can come up with is
calling me gay.  If I were gay, there wouldn't be a problem,
shit-for-brains.  Unless of course, I had the same thing for your ass as
the professional benchwarmers behind you do."



   -----



   People rarely understand what it means to begin studying martial arts
before full motor control is achieved.  I thought differently about the
situation than my opponents.  My mind was calculating scenarios the instant
they registered as a threat.

   Even that did not explain what happened.



   -----



   I moved before he realized he was going to throw a punch.  I waited for
his fist to arc towards where I had been so that everyone could see what he
was doing before I attacked his strike.

   I drove the edge of my hand into his shoulder as the punch overextended
his arm.  He screamed in reaction telling me I had done the damage I fully
intended.

   I moved backwards a couple of steps sliding along the wall.  There had
been no football players or their friends behind me but the circle of our
classmates did not give me much room to maneuver.  I needed some clearance,
or I would get tangled in the people I wanted to put down.

   The other bootlicker moved around his friend and threw a punch from
somewhere in the next zip code.  I let it miss and front kicked his thigh.
The blow straightened his knee painfully, freezing him in place.

   Two short driving steps were the lead in to a vicious, short left hook
into his liver.

   He crumpled with a groan.

   I looked at the two football players and smiled.

   The crowd tasted the promised blood and tightened behind the players to
prevent escape.  On a subconscious level, the two players must have felt
our classmates' desire to see them torn down and get some of what they had
been dishing out since we entered high school.

   It forced the players to come at me.

   It would have been easier for them if it had been one on one.  They
tried to work together; a mistake against a trained fighter who had faced
sparring partners who knew how to do it correctly.

   I slid to my left and they turned to continue facing me without
realizing I had lined one behind the other.  I feinted forward to draw the
attack.

   The first player threw a wild haymaker.  I moved inside of his arm to
rob it of any power.  He was big so the contact still moved me but I
grabbed his head to catch myself.

   Two Mu-thai knees, left and right, into his ribcage made him tense and
lower his head.  I aided the head-dip down and drove up with my knee.

   His nose lost the collision.

   I let him go and shuffled to the right while twisting my head.  The
second player's punch impacted hard throwing me towards the wall.  I
relaxed letting my body absorb the contact with the wall.  I put my hands
on the wall and pushed off burying a sidekick into the second player's gut.

   "David!" someone screamed getting between the fallen player and me.

   My mind focused as the person put their hands on my chest and pushed
back.

   "Stop, David!" Miss Malone screamed.  "We saw everything, David.  It's
okay."

   She kept talking and pushing me until she pinned me against the wall
with her body.

   "It's over, David!" she said pleading with her eyes.  "It's over!"

   I looked over her shoulder to see some teachers breaking up the crowd
while others kept the kids on the ground.

   "What have you done, Master?" Miss Malone whispered looking behind her.



   ----



   I sat quietly staring out the window in the principal's office.

   The principal had carefully interviewed most of the people who witnessed
the confrontation while waiting for the parents to arrive.

   The parents of the boys stood up as soon as my mom entered the
administrative office, but the principal deftly maneuvered everyone into
his sanctum before the shouting began.

   My mother was very attentive as the principal told us about the findings
of his interviews; by coincidence two teachers had seen the entire thing
and two others witnessed the second act between the football players and
me.

   The other parents constantly interrupted arguing that their 'precious
angels' could not, would not, and did not do what the principal described.
The thirty or so witnesses had to be wrong, and obviously I was the one
that jumped their sons.

   My mother dialing her cell phone silenced everyone.

   "Hello, Gerald," she said sweetly into it.  "Have you heard about what
happened to my son in school this morning?"

   The father of one of the sycophants stood up angrily.

   "Yes, I know," my mother continued.  "I can't believe the state of our
schools.  Your daughter is going to attend here next year, isn't she?"

   I stood up when the father took a step towards my mother.

   "We will be pressing charges against these boys," my mother said
clearly. "I know, Gerald!  Boys will be boys, but really to have four
hoodlums attack my son is criminal.  Can you imagine if it had been your
little girl?  There is a limit!"

   My mother turned towards the other parents when the father who stood up
took another step forward.

   "David," the principal warned me as I smiled.

   "You think your man enough, kid?" the father growled.

   "Take another step towards my mom, and you'll be in the hospital bed
next to your kid," I replied coldly.

   "Can you hold on a second, Gerald?" my mom said into the phone.  "It
seems one of the boy's father wants to show me where his son learned his
manners.  I think he wants to be a co-defendant with his little boy."

   "Enough!" the principal interrupted.  "Everyone sit down and let's talk
this through."

   My mother shrugged and whispered into the phone before putting it away.
She sat down raising an eyebrow to the standing father.  I placed my chair
between them when he sat down.

   The parents were unsatisfied with the week suspension that the principal
leveled on everyone involved in the fight.  They thought I deserved far
worse, and that their boys deserved much less.

   The two police officers knocking on the door to get the list of
witnesses from the principal silenced them.  My mother walked out of the
office with a smug smile on her face.

   My father was very disappointed in me when he heard about the fight and
gave me a long lecture about lowering myself to someone else's level.



   ----



   Miss Malone's piano lessons were structured so that my mother could be
taught and leave or choose to sit through mine.  After the first couple of
times, my mother always elected to leave and have Cheryl pick me up.

   "Do you want to talk about it?" Miss Malone said after my mother left on
our next schedule lesson time.

   "I'd like to play first," I replied.

   "Okay," she whispered playing her fingers through my hair.

   Miss Malone allowed me to navigate my own way through the piano lessons.
She was very good with technique and style but like my mother, her playing
lacked a life of its own.

   An hour later, my fingers came to a halt on top of the keys.

   "You really should play professionally, David," Miss Malone sighed.

   "I wouldn't love it then," I answered softly.

   "No, you wouldn't," she said nodding.

   She stood up and walked into the kitchen.  I was sitting on the couch
when she returned with a glass of water.  I took a sip and watched her sit
down next to me.

   "So what happened, David?" she asked.

   "It wasn't unexpected, Elizabeth," I said shrugging.

   "Everybody knew it would happen eventually," she replied.  "The bad
seeds on the football team dislike you too much to let your refusal to
kow-tow to them go."

   "I don't remember an election where anybody voted them God's choir," I
told her.

   "This isn't the smart way to handle the situation, David," she insisted.
"You could have avoided them."

   "I don't think it's smart to eat cow shit for four years," I replied.

   She was quiet for a few minutes before speaking again.

   "You're good, David," she told me.  "But not four to one good."

   "They hesitated," I said shrugging.  "It was really two to one and two
to one."

   "I saw the whole thing, Master," she told me.  "You made it look too
easy."

   I nodded slowly.

   "You haven't noticed the effects of your experience with the Pill?" she
asked.

   "I noticed a change in the dojo, but there are plateaus.  I thought I
crossed one," I said.

   "How have you changed?" she asked.

   "Better concentration and my body moves more naturally," I told her.  "I
did the forms under the influence of the Pill; it was one of the things I
let myself remember."

   "Do you remember anything else about your time under the Pill that could
have changed you?"

   "I don't know," I answered.  "I destroyed everything...  the videotapes
and the notes of my instructions."

   "Master, we have you put under the Pill again," she said.  "We can't
know what else you did to yourself."

   "I only have three Pills left," I whispered.

   Her teeth clicked as she her mouth snapped shut.

   "You already know who you're going to use those Pills on," she said.

   "One of them," I responded.  "I have to save another in case you want be
set free."

   "I'll never want that, Master," she hissed.

   "I have to save one in case I have to set you free," I said staring into
her eyes.

   She looked away, but her hand grabbed mine tightly.

   "That still leaves you a Pill," she pointed out.

   "Just one," I said quietly.  "And I don't know if I did anything bad to
myself anyway."

   "But Master," she pursued nervously.

   I reached over and grabbed a handful of her hair.  My slave's eyes
softened as I smiled at her and guided her head to my groin.



   ----



   I liked it.

   I had noticed the change in my martial arts classes, but put it down to
having reached a new plateau where my body and mind were closer to being
one.  The fight left me with no corner to hide from the truth.

   I liked what I had done to Maria and Michelle.

   I enjoyed looking at Miss Malone in class and knowing I could take her
on top of the school desk if that was what I wanted.

   I loved smashing that asshole's nose on my knee.

   I liked the power.



   ----



   "Hey, little bro," Cheryl said the next afternoon sitting down on the
basement sofa.  "How are you enjoying your vaca...  I mean, your
suspension?"

   I gave her a smile, which she returned.  She put a full sports drink
down on the table.

   "I thought your mom was going to come down on you hard with something
like a six-month grounding," she told me.

   "They jumped me," I pointed out.  "I was only defending myself."

   "You get into a fight with four guys; they end up in the hospital for at
least the morning, and you were ONLY defending yourself," she said raising
an eyebrow.  "Come on, little bro!"

   Before the Pill, the 'little bro' would have been...

   Now, it grated.

   "I admit I enjoyed it," I told her.  "But I didn't, and wouldn't have
started it."

   "You finished it though," she said seriously.

   I nodded slowly.

   "It's not over, David," she told me.  "Football players have friends."

   The tone of her voice was different than any I ever heard Cheryl use.

   "It's over, Cheryl," I said quietly.  "The coach kicked the two players
of off the team; no player is going to risk that and their asslickers know
better now."

   "Something is going to come along someday and kick your ass if you keep
going like this, David," Cheryl warned.

   "Probably," I said smiling.  "But it's not going to be a high school
jock or one of their butt plugs."

   Cheryl shook her head and opened the sports drink bottle to take a sip.

   "Do you want me to get you a drink?" she asked politely.

   "One of those would be awesome," I replied pointing at her bottle.

   "I'll be right back," she said getting up and heading towards the
stairs.

   It took me a few seconds to realize the opportunity in front of me.

   I looked at the bottle that Cheryl left behind and it hit me.  I sprang
off the couch and almost made it into my room without touching the ground.
My heart pounded as I opened Cheryl's bottle after I retrieved a Pill.  I
crushed it between my fingers to force it to dissolve quicker.  Cheryl
started down the steps while I was shaking the bottle like a madman.

   "Are you okay?" she asked handing me the bottle.

   I nodded and yanked the drink out of her hand to pound it down.  She
looked nervous so I glanced away trying to recuperate.  My heart was still
beating crazily, but I could not do anything except sit back down.

   Thankfully, Cheryl set off on her best lecture about the bad things that
would happen to me unless I learned to be reasonable.  I answered with a
steady stream of nods and okays waiting for her to finish the sports drink.

   It was incredible that like with Maria, I missed the moment that the
Pill hit Cheryl by a few minutes.  I nodded and okayed a couple more times
before I realized Cheryl had stopped talking.

   The nervousness hit me when I turned towards Cheryl.  I studied her
beautiful face for a few minutes before I gave her the instructions that
Miss Malone had designed and redesigned after Michelle.

   Her eyes were bright with life when she looked at me a half hour later.
I was sweating profusely, another difference from when I committed the same
procedure onto Michelle.

   I sat back on the couch and closed my eyes.

   "Why do you avoid contact with people, Cheryl?" I asked distractedly.

   The frustration of having tried to dose her for the last couple of weeks
came out in my voice.

   "I don't trust them," she replied in a voice much softer than I
expected.

   I opened my eyes and looked at her.  Cheryl always had a slight edge to
her voice; something else I had not noticed until recently.  Miss Malone's
instructions for the mode I had Cheryl in left her in a state where her
personality showed through, but she was still open for instructions.

   The edge to her voice should have been there.

   "Why not?" I asked curiously.

   Her eyes teared and she bit her lip painfully.

   "Relax, Cheryl," I commanded.

   Cheryl sighed massively, but did not answer my question.  It was the
strongest negative reaction against the Pill's effect I had seen.

   "Why don't you trust people?" I asked.

   "He hurt me," Cheryl replied in a monotone voice.

   I sat back surprised by the change.  Cheryl sat rigidly staring hard at
me as if trying to push me away.

   "Who hurt you?" I asked.

   Cheryl bit her lip again and shook her head.

   "Who hurt you, Cheryl?" I asked in a voice I had only used on Miss
Malone.

   "My...  big...  brother," she replied fighting to hold each word back.

   "What did he do?" I asked almost unwillingly.

   "He..."

   "What did he do to you, Cheryl?" I asked again.

   "HE RAPED ME!"

   The words escaped her mouth as if a dam had burst.  Cheryl collapsed in
on herself with soul-dying sobs.  I sat frozen staring at her while she
cried for fifteen minutes as if it were the first time she had cried over
what happened to her.

   I sat empty of thought; nothing had prepared me for Cheryl's release.

   "What happened?" I asked when Cheryl recovered.



   ----



   I did not know what to think, during or after.



   ----



   I turned towards the stairs slowly.  My mind must have registered her
presence because I was not surprised to see my mother watching us.

   She walked up to Cheryl and stared at her for a long time.

   "How did you do this, David?" my mother asked dangerously.  "She's kept
this secret for too long to have just decided to tell you."

   For many teenagers, the first instinct would have been to lie.  There
were a couple of problems with that strategy for me; Cheryl had not and
would not acknowledge my mother's presence, and I had never successfully
lied to my mother.

   "I drugged her," I said.

   The silence stretched out for a really long time.

   "I see," she said finally.

   My mother moved around to sit across from Cheryl and me.

   "What can you do with her?" my mother asked sharply.

   I considered how much to cop to, but waited too long to reply.

   "Answer the question, David!" my mother bit out.

   "I can't make her kill herself," I replied nervously.  "I guess I could
convince her that she's walking down a flight of stairs when she's actually
stepping off a roof though."

   My teeth clicked as I tried to control the urge to babble.

   "I see," my mom answered staring at Cheryl.

   "What were you planning to do with her; now that you have her?" my
mother asked with no inflection to her voice.

   I shrugged.

   "That was a stupid question," my mother said sighing.  "You're sixteen,
and Cheryl is a lovely girl completely in your control."

   She pursed her lips and stared at me.

   "Miss Malone?" she asked raising an eyebrow.

   "How did you..."

   "Your Elizabeth is good about keeping it hidden in public," she
interrupted.  "But it wasn't a good idea to teach our piano lessons in her
apartment.  She relaxes in ways that a woman can read."

   "Oh..." I replied.

   "Michelle also?" she asked.

   I nodded.

   "She doesn't strike me as the type that would need a 'little' help where
you are concerned," she said curiously.

   "Miss Malone said I could make her the perfect girlfriend," I replied
too quickly.

   "And what is your idea of the perfect girlfriend?" she asked with a tiny
smile.  "Or is it Elizabeth's idea of a perfect girlfriend for you?"

   I wanted no part of either question.

   "So what ARE you going to do with Cheryl?" she asked in a hard voice.

   I looked at the subject of our conversation.

   "I don't know," I said truthfully.  "I didn't know that had happened to
her."

   "Neither did I," my mother said sadly.  "And I should have."

   She stood up and looked at me.

   "Have you done this to your father or me?" she asked suddenly.

   "NO!" I answered rearing back in surprise.

   "I didn't think so," she said pensively.  "I wouldn't be able to ask
these questions if you had.  At least, that's how I would do it."

   She walked to stand in front of Cheryl, and ran a finger along her
cheekbone gently.

   "You've never disappointed me, David," my mother said without looking at
me.  "Take good care of her."

   "You're not going to make me stop?" I asked trying not to sigh in
relief.

   "Make sure Cheryl talks to me," she said ignoring the question.  "I can
help her."

   She walked to the steps and stopped.

   "You're going to do what you're going to do, David," she said turning to
look at me.  "Just remember that you're too old for me to clean up your
mess."

   I sat quietly staring at Cheryl after my mother made her way upstairs.

   "Cheryl," I said.

   "Yes, David," she replied.

   "You need to talk to my mother about your rape," I said softly.  "Listen
to her advice."

   "Yes, David."

   "Go to your room and take a nap, Cheryl."



   ----



   I was still sitting on the couch when Michelle and her sister stopped by
after cheerleading practice.

   Samantha became an addition to Michelle's non-sexual visits after my
fight at school.  Michelle was elusive even under questioning mode about
why, other than Samantha did whatever Samantha wanted.  I did not complain
since the blonde, blue-eyed captain of the cheerleading team made a nice
decoration to the space anywhere near me.

   I thought about giving Samantha a Pill but one sister was enough, and I
needed to be frugal with what I had left.

   "How's the suspension?" Samantha asked snidely.

   I chalked her attitude towards me up to the natural urge of the crowned
Queen of a high school to keep her peons in line.  Dating her little sister
put me far over any line Samantha could find acceptable.  Her ultimate
triumph would be to pass her high school crown to Michelle, and I was not
the type the heir should have as a boyfriend.

   Michelle was unmovable in the face of her sister's objections, which
frustrated Samantha to no end.

   "It's not bad," I answered.  "I'm getting a lot of studying done."

   Samantha gave me an annoyed look when she could not figure out a way to
continue digging at me.

   "How was school?" I asked Michelle to prevent a round of general sniping
from her sister.

   Michelle knew what I was doing and broke out into an incredibly
over-descriptive breakdown of her school day starting with everything that
happened in homeroom.  She had not gotten to the first period bell before I
zoned out.

   "Sam!"

   Michelle's worried voice brought my thoughts from Cheryl's family
history to my two visitors.

   "Samantha!" Michelle screamed moving to her sister's side.

   "Don't touch her!" I commanded without thinking.

   My mind processed information; Samantha was rigid with every muscle in
her body locked, and on the desk in front of her was Cheryl's unfinished
sports drink.

   "David!" Michelle said looking at me desperately.

   "Calm down!" I ordered.

   Michelle relaxed instantly and sat back.

   "What's wrong with Sam?" she asked with some strain in her voice but in
control of herself.

   I grabbed the sports drink bottle and put the top on.  There was maybe
half a cup left.  My mind was fighting for me to think through the
consequences of what happened, but there was something more immediate in
front of me.

   "David!" Michelle exclaimed when I started the sequence of instructions
that would make Samantha mine.

   "Shut up, Michelle," I said without looking at her.

   The instruction sets were exact with precise wording.  Two within the
span of a couple of hours was a stressful experience.  I had to go over a
few sections when Samantha's repetition of the instructions showed I made
mistakes.

   When I was done, I sat back in my original spot and stared at the sports
drink.

   "Do you know how much she drank of this?" I asked Michelle.

   "David," she said.  "What's going on?"

   "Michelle," I said hardening my voice.  "How much did your sister
drink?"

   "Not much, maybe a swallow or two," she answered quickly.

   "Why did she drink from this bottle?" I asked.

   "We got into a fight because I wouldn't go get her a drink," she said.
"She thought that was your bottle so she drank out of it."

   "And she only had a swallow or two?"

   "Yes," she replied.

   I sat back and thought about it.

   The Pill had been diluted by the twenty ounces of liquid.  There must
have been a certain amount of settling considering how long it had been
between when Cheryl drank and Samantha drank.  Samantha had at most two
swallows, maybe four ounces.

   The Pills were huge but I never considered that a lesser dose would be
as effective.

   "What did you do to Sam, David?" Michelle asked in a rising voice.

   "She's mine now," I answered plainly.

   "What do you mean?"

   I put Samantha into questioning mode.

   "Why have you been following Michelle to my house lately, Sam?" I asked.

   "I want you to make me scream," Samantha said staring at me.

   "What?" I asked surprised.

   "I heard you with Michelle," she continued.

   Her eyes were digging into me.

   "You were fucking her brains out," Samantha said.  "I'm going to steal
you from her so you can fuck me like that."

   Michelle gasped.

   "Why?" I asked stupidly.

   "I want to feel what you make Michelle feel, David," Samantha replied.
"I want everything you give her and more."

   I did not know what to say to that.

   "You have a boyfriend," Michelle told Sam.

   "I broke up with him," Sam answered.  "I want David!"

   "You can't have him!" Michelle said raising her voice.

   "Yes, I can!" Sam insisted.

   "Both of you cut that shit out!" I interrupted.

   They sat back and looked at me.

   "Sam, what the fuck are you talking about?" I asked letting her
interpret the question.

   "I've fucked," she said.

   Hearing the high school Queen admit that so blatantly and using those
words tightened my lower back with expectation.

   "It hasn't been much fun...  there's something wrong!" Sam said in
frustration.  "You're doing Michelle right.  I WANT THAT!"

   Samantha was pushing against the control of the Pill; not fighting it,
but like something inside of her was finally getting an opportunity to come
out.

   "She's yours now," Michelle stated in a curious tone of voice.

   I turned to face her.  I leaned back as something behind Michelle's eyes
rushed towards me.  Both sisters were bursting at the seams from something
finally being allowed free.

   "Give her to me," Michelle demanded.

   "WHAT?" I spat.

   "Give Sam to me," Michelle insisted.  "You can do it, can't you?"

   I got up and put furniture between the two sisters and me.

   "I'll do anything if you give her to me," Michelle promised.

   "What are you talking about?" I asked confused.

   "I want Sam," Michelle replied.  "Give her to me!"

   "For what?" I asked.

   "I want her to be mine like Miss Malone is yours," Michelle answered
desperately.

   "Yes!" Sam hissed looking at her little sister.

   I jumped back, putting more distance between the two obviously insane
girls and me.

   "She gave me my first orgasm," Michelle said looking at Samantha
hungrily.  "She ignored me after that, and I wanted her to do it again so
bad.  She just ignored me!"

   "Both of you shut the fuck up!" I ordered feeling nauseous.

   The girls were confusing me, and I needed them to be quiet for a few
minutes while the world stopped spinning.

   "Give her to me, David!" Michelle begged a couple of minutes later. 
"I'll do anything for you if you give Samantha to me."

   "You'll do anything for me anyway," I told her.

   "I'll be your slave like Elizabeth," Michelle said boldly.

   My mouth dried.

   "How did you guys get here?" I asked.

   "I drove," Samantha offered.

   "Good," I told her.  "We're going for a ride."



   ----



   "What's wrong, David?" Miss Malone asked as I guided the two girls into
her living room.

   "I Pilled Samantha accidentally," I explained.

   "How do you Pill someone accidentally?" she asked smiling mischievously.

   I gave her an annoyed look, and shook my head.

   "I Pilled Cheryl," I said.

   Miss Malone broke out into spontaneous clapping while she adoringly
looked at me with shining eyes.

   "Anyway," I said gritting my teeth.  "I used a sports drink to get
Cheryl, but she didn't finish it."

   "And Samantha did," Miss Malone said putting two and two together.

   "No," I responded.  "She only took two swallows."

   Miss Malone moved backwards and collapsed on the sofa while she
continued to stare wide-eyed at me.

   "How badly did you overdose us?" she asked quietly.

   "Twenty maybe thirty times more than necessary," I whispered.

   "Five Pills?"

   I nodded.

   "One hundred and fifty women!"

   I had not wanted to think about it statistically, but Miss Malone put
the magnitude of my mistake into perspective.

   "Jesus, David!" she gasped.

   I sat down and put my face in my hands.

   "What did you do to us?" Michelle asked some time later.

   "David discovered a drug that has an interesting effect on people,
dear," Miss Malone asked.

   "Is that why she's his girlfriend?" Samantha asked.

   "No, honey," Miss Malone responded.  "Michelle wanted to be David's
girlfriend, even if not for the best of reasons.  David only adjusted her
so that Michelle would accept certain things."

   "Like what?" Samantha pursued.

   "Me."

   "What about you?"

   "The fact that David owns me; body and soul," Miss Malone said proudly.

   I looked at them when the silence went on for an extended period of
time.

   "Is that why Michelle screams?" Samantha asked me.

   "Yes," I said.

   "No," Miss Malone said at the same time.

   I turned to look at her.

   "It wouldn't have taken you long to have Michelle screaming, Master,"
Miss Malone told me confidently.

   Samantha drew in a tight breath at our teacher's use of the honorific.

   "I doubt Michelle would have enjoyed it quite that much," I pointed out.

   "Maybe not," Miss Malone admitted.  "But certainly more than anyone
she's been with so far."

   "No," Michelle said.

   Everyone in the room turned towards her.

   "This Pill thing makes me feel more?" she asked me.

   "Yes," I said.  "I told your brain to multiply what you feel when I
touch you."

   "So it's not real?" she asked.

   "It's as real as any pleasure David could give you, sweetie," Miss
Malone said.  "As real as my belief that he's my perfect Master."

   "So it's not real?" Michelle asked again.

   "No, Michelle," I answered before Miss Malone could.  "It's not real."

   "Then you're not really better than what Samantha made me feel our first
time," Michelle stated with finality.

   "That's why I brought them here," I said looking at Miss Malone.

   "Oh!" Miss Malone said looking stunned.

   "Michelle offered to become my slave, just like you, if I give Samantha
to her," I continued.

   Miss Malone sat back and stared at me.  The laughter she released a few
seconds later was disconcerting.

   "Forgive me, Master," she said apologetically after regaining control.
"You should see the look on your face."

   "Give her to me!" Michelle implored suddenly.

   "Yes!" Samantha intoned.

   "Oh!" Miss Malone repeated uselessly.

   "You should see the look on your face," I told her with a smile.

   "Samantha, you want to belong to Michelle?" Miss Malone asked.

   The older sister shrugged.

   "What do you want?" Miss Malone asked.

   "To scream," Samantha said fervently.  "For my skin to crack open from
the pleasure needing to get out!  I want anything that will get me there!"

   Miss Malone stared into the blonde's blue-eyes, and the fire jumped from
Samantha to her.

   "Shit!" I said putting the chair between the women and me.  "Is
horniness fucking contagious?"

   "It's not a bad idea, Master," Miss Malone told me.

   "What the fuck?" I asked angrily.

   "Tell me what happened that first time with Samantha," Miss Malone
instructed Michelle.

   "We were on vacation with our parents," Michelle said.  "The hotel
messed up and instead of giving us a room with two beds they gave me and
Sam only one bed."

   "I masturbate every night, usually more than once," Samantha said
quietly.  "I couldn't do it with Michelle in the room.  By the third night,
I thought I was going crazy.  I waited for her to go to sleep before I
tried to do it."

   "I wasn't asleep," Michelle continued.  "I turned over and asked Sam
what she was doing."

   "I was so horny; I just wanted an orgasm," Samantha said with tears in
her eyes.  "I was so horny and nobody had ever touched me.  I wanted..."

   "She showed me how to do it by putting her hand on my pussy," Michelle
said.  "It was so beautiful, like I could taste pleasure.  She told me that
I had to do it to her too."

   "It felt better when someone did it to me," Samantha said.  "We did it
to each other every night for the rest of our vacation."

   "She wouldn't do it again after we got home though," Michelle said
angrily.  "Sam wouldn't let me touch her!  She wouldn't touch me!"

   "What are you going to do, Master?" Miss Malone asked after everyone in
the room cooled down some.

   "What can I do?" I asked annoyed.

   "What do you want to do?" she asked back.

   I though gagging Miss Malone would be a good place to start!

   I moved around the chair and sat back down.  Studying the females in
front of me, I tried to think of some way to get out of the situation.

   "You can make Sam your girlfriend," Michelle suggested.

   "Huh?" I grunted dumbly.

   "That way you can keep both of us," Michelle continued helpfully.

   "I don't understand," I told her.

   "A slave can't be your girlfriend," Michelle said authoritatively.

   "What?" I asked angrily.

   "She's right, Master," Miss Malone said supporting whatever point
Michelle was trying to make.  "A slave can't rightfully be your girlfriend
so it's going to have to be Samantha."

   "Everyone will believe it," Samantha joined in.  "It's the kind of thing
I would do."

   "What the fuck are you people talking about?" I asked exasperated.

   "Wait!" I interrupted raising my hand before they could answer.

   I sat back, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath.

   "Slave," I said.

   "Yes, Master," Miss Malone replied.

   "Yes...  master," Michelle said unsurely.

   I opened my eyes and looked at her.

   "Why did you answer like that, Michelle?" I asked.

   "I'm not used to the word yet, David," Michelle said.  "I'm sorry.  I'll
do better."

   "No," I said to her.  "Why did you call me that?"

   "That's what I said I would do if you gave Sam to me," Michelle reminded
me.  "I'll be yours like Elizabeth is."

   "And a slave can't be a girlfriend," I said.

   "A girlfriend is a title, Master," Miss Malone said.  "A very important
one in high school.  Michelle can't be your slave and your girlfriend at
the same time, but Sam can be your girlfriend and Michelle's slave."

   "Yes!" Samantha exclaimed leaning forward.

   "This is a plan," I said rhetorically.

   The three women nodded.

   "Someone explain it to me," I told them.

   "It's easy, Master," Miss Malone said.  "Michelle wants Samantha;
Samantha belongs to you.  Michelle wants to trade; she'll become your slave
if you give her Sam."

   "I don't give people away," I said between my teeth.

   "Think of it more like, Sam and Michelle are both your Pill slaves,"
Miss Malone said brightly.  "But when you're not there, Sam is Michelle's
slave."

   "What about you?" I asked.

   Miss Malone shrugged.

   "What's with the girlfriend thing?" I asked.

   "Michelle understands," Miss Malone said.  "She can't really be your
slave, if she has any other title in your life.  She is your slave and
that's it."

   "You don't..."

   "No, David," Miss Malone interrupted in a hard voice.  "In your mind,
I'm also your high school teacher and your piano instructor.  In mine, I'm
your slave.  Nothing else!"

   "So Sam has to become my girlfriend?"

   "She doesn't HAVE TO," Miss Malone clarified.  "But it would certainly
make things easier to explain."

   "She's a senior, the captain of the cheerleading team," I pointed out.
"I'm not exactly King of the High School material."

   "You are if I tell everyone you are," Samantha said confidently.

   "I still don't understand why she has to be my girlfriend," I said.

   "There has to be a reason they're always around you," Miss Malone said.
"Always in your house.  Always alone with you."

   "Oh!" I said.  "Your reputation is going to take a hit if you 'steal' me
from your little sister, Samantha."

   The two girls looked at each other and laughed together.

   "What?" I asked for what seemed like the thousandth time.

   "You wouldn't be the first, David," Michelle said.  "But you're going to
be the last."

   "I haven't agreed to anything," I stated.

   "You're going to turn down the most desirable girl in the school?" Miss
Malone asked.  "The High School Queen!  The Captain of the Cheerleading
Team!"

   "Every football player will scream murder, David," Michelle said smiling
darkly at me.

   "Especially when I tell them the only reason I'm with you is because you
make me scream," Samantha breathed.

   "Scream, Samantha!" I ordered.

   The girl arched her back and thrust her hips towards me.  The sound that
came out of her mouth would have been more appropriate to a slaughterhouse
than a bedroom, but there was no doubt from the way her body vibrated that
Samantha was drowning in an orgasm.

   "Scream, Slave!" I ordered Miss Malone.

   She collapsed out of her chair into a puddle of pleasure.

   "Scream, Slave!" I commanded turning on Michelle.

   The younger sister convulsed as a directive she could not deny when it
came from my lips swamped her senses.

   "All of you scream!" I whispered.

   "Is that what it feels like?" Samantha asked staring up at me from her
position on the floor.

   Their breathing had taken several minutes to recover from the ordeal I
put them through.

   "It gets better," Michelle said.

   "A lot better," Miss Malone finished.

   They stared at me hungrily, but of the three Samantha looked like death
from sexual starvation was seconds away even after the pleasure I stampeded
through her body.

   "You're going to do it, aren't you?" Miss Malone asked me.

   "The three of you seemed to have worked it out," I answered.  "I
wouldn't want to disappoint you."

   "No, you wouldn't, Master," Miss Malone said nodding.

   She turned towards the girls.

   "Do you have your cheerleading outfit?" Miss Malone asked Samantha.

   "Why?" the girl asked back.

   "You're the captain of the cheerleading team, little girl," Miss Malone
said smiling wickedly.  "What boy in school doesn't want to strip that
uniform off your delightful body?"

   "Or fuck you in it!" Michelle added.

   "The gay ones," Samantha said raising an eyebrow.

   I watched her strut out of Miss Malone's apartment.  Michelle followed
her possession out the door.  I had not formalized their new relationship,
but it was coming.

   "How did Cheryl go?" Miss Malone asked.

   I wanted to talk about Cheryl, but her secrets did not belong to me.

   "My mother knows," I said distracting Miss Malone.

   "Knows what?" she asked concerned.

   "About the Pills," I answered.  "About you."

   "She knows everything?" Miss Malone asked.

   "Yeah, pretty much," I replied.

   "What did she say?"

   "When she talked about you and me, she said 'your Elizabeth'," I
answered.

   "It's the truth, Master," she said smiling gently.

   "She said I was going to do what I was going to do."

   "Your mother would say that, David," Miss Malone said nodding.  "May I
ask for something, Master?"

   I looked at her curiously; Miss Malone was not in the habit of 'asking'
for things.

   "Your next piano lesson," Miss Malone said slowly.  "I'd like to
schedule it before your mother's."

   "Why?" I asked even more curious.

   "That way you can leave, and I could spend time with her after the
lesson."

   "Why, Slave?"

   "You settled quite nicely into your role as my Master," she whispered.
"You had to have learned that from somewhere, and I've met your father."

   "What are you saying?" I asked harshly.

   "Your mother would make a good Mistress," she said almost too low for me
to hear.

   "Don't say another word," I ordered.

   Miss Malone got on her knees, bowed her head, and looked at the floor. I
stared at her until I heard footsteps behind me.

   "No one stands above me in your life, Slave," I said driving the words
deep into Miss Malone's mind.  "But my mother IS your Mistress!"

   The world of the Pill seemed more ordered after I spoke those words.  I
wonder if Elizabeth Malone understood that all along.



   ----



   Samantha was easy.

   Easy for me and easy for her.

   Her body quivered as I got close to her.  The orgasm I had demanded from
her in the living room only fed the hunger.

   Miss Malone and Michelle sat on the bed watching the action intently. 
Samantha stood at the foot of the bed waiting for me to touch her.

   I turned my head and got close enough to her that she could feel the
heat of my breath on her upper lip.

   "I told you not to move," I whispered.

   She wanted to close the gap between us and was close to breaking.  The
straightening of her spine violated my edict as she tried to hold on to her
desire for contact.

   I stepped back to look at her and shook my head in obvious
disappointment.

   "I didn't..." she said but stopped when I put a finger on her lips.

   The touch surprised her for all that she had been anticipating it.  I
stepped even further back and crooked my finger for her to follow. 
Samantha stepped away from the bed, giving me enough room to walk around
her.

   The Pill gifted me the Queen of my high school in her cheerleading
outfit waiting to be fucked on the bed behind her.

   I walked around her and pressed close without coming into contact.  I
blew across the back of Samantha's neck feeling the strain it took for her
to remain still.

   "Too sensitive, David?" Miss Malone asked from the bed.

   "NO!" Samantha gasped.

   "You moved again," I whispered into her ear.

   "No, I didn't," she protested.

   I ran my fingers from left to right on her ass.  She pushed backwards as
I stepped away.

   "You see," I said smiling.  "You moved."

   "Please!" Samantha begged.

   Of the women in the room, I felt most comfortable with Samantha.

   I did not understand Miss Malone's desire for a figment of her sexual
imagination that the Pill made a reality in me, nor Michelle's willingness
to put herself completely in my hands as long as I made the fantasies of
being with her sister come true.

   Samantha wanted sheet-tearing, sweat-producing, voice-breaking,
mind-blowing pleasure; a simple desire that only required a little
adjusting of Miss Malone's programming for my Pill females.  Samantha would
achieve the height of pleasure she wanted as long as she did it at my
direction.

   I liked being the top of Samantha's pyramid.  Her first kiss and grope
with Michelle had felt good to her, but not as good as me blowing on the
back of her neck.

   Michelle had protested those instructions until I reminded her what she
agreed to.  She pouted but said nothing more.

   "A cheerleader," I said.

   "The cheer captain," Miss Malone said from behind me.

   I turned to look at her.

   "It makes a difference, doesn't it?" she asked.  "Michelle is a
cheerleader."

   I put my foot between Samantha's and tapped them.  She spread them
shoulder-width apart.  I kept looking at Miss Malone as I ran a finger up
the valley of Samantha's ass.

   The captain of the cheerleading team gasped, as she had not done with
any other boy.  I knew that for a fact, because I asked Samantha to recite
her sexual experiences to me.

   Michelle had been her best, until I touched her.

   "Are you wearing anything underneath?" I asked walking around to
Samantha's front.

   "No," she answered.

   Shirt, skirt, briefs, and the bounty of Samantha's body!

   She stared at me with her blue eyes burning.

   "Yes, it does," I said answering Miss Malone's question.

   "Yours," Samantha said suddenly leaning towards me.

   I shook my head; Miss Malone was mine, Michelle was mine now.  Samantha
belonged to the pleasure and maybe that was why I felt most comfortable
with her.

   I stripped slowly; studying Samantha as she avidly drank every newly
exposed inch of my skin.  It was an experience to see the object of most of
my male peers' adolescent desire look at me the way we looked at her.

   Her eyes took in my hardon with desperation.  She could not stop herself
from stepping forward and wrapping a hand around me.

   She gasped looking into my eyes with trepidation.

   "I told you not to move," I said.

   "Is there any way she can make it up to you?" Miss Malone asked coyly.

   Samantha did not wait for an answer.  She sank to her knees taking me
deeply into her mouth.  I felt my dick press against the entrance to her
throat as Samantha dug her nails into my thighs.

   Her tongue pressed against the bottom of my dick as she whimpered.  She
sucked hard on me while the undertow of everything she wanted dragged her
down.

   Samantha sat back slowly.  She crawled back until she could lean against
the bed and looked up at me.  She spread her legs in languid motions that
asked me to give her the rest of what I promised her.

   Michelle crawled down from the head of the bed to grab a fistful of her
sister's blonde hair.  She yanked back pulling her partly onto the bed. 
Samantha reached up to for some of Michelle's hair.  They stared at each
for a moment locked in the second before a wrestling match.  Michelle
leaned forward offering her lips as collateral for a truce.  Samantha's
grip softened and the sisters drank each other in a kiss.

   Miss Malone joined the girls and guided them so that Michelle lay on her
back with Samantha on top of her.  Miss Malone got off the bed to pull
Samantha's cheerleading briefs off her body.  She spread the girl's ass
cheeks enough to give me a view of the liquid heat that colored my new
girlfriend's sexuality.

   I stepped forward until I could wet my fingers with Samantha's warmth.
She gasped into her sister's mouth and pressed down harder on top of her.

   I moved a finger down to Samantha's clit gaining myself another gasp. 
My finger described a small circle on top of the tight bundle of sensation.

   "Give her what she needs, Master!" Miss Malone urged taking her clothes
off.

   I ignored her.  Samantha was the only woman in the room I understood.

   Samantha's hands moved backward and she spread her ass cheeks wide
tempting me to sink into her.  The tactic was as effective as Miss Malone's
words; I continued manipulating her clit.

   I edged closer to Samantha's ass knowing the moment was coming.  It
arrived suddenly as Samantha squeezed her ass and broke the kiss with her
sister.

   My slave's hand was there to guide me to the point of entry.  I drove
forward fighting through the gripping pressure of Samantha's pussy in the
throes of orgasmic convulsions.

   Samantha screamed as I hit bottom.

   She screamed again seconds later.



   -----



   I sat watching the sisters explore each other's naked bodies.

   Samantha started at insatiable and got worse so I was glad Michelle was
willing to spell me from the pleasure of her sister's attentions.

   Miss Malone sat on the arm of my chair playing her fingers through my
hair while enjoying the show with me.

   It hit me suddenly: twenty to thirty, if two cheerleaders were this much
fun, what would...  

	----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
	This post has been reformatted by ASSTR's
	Smart Text Enhancement Processor (STEP)
	system due to inadequate formatting.
	----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

	
<1st attachment end>


----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+