Author: Bulgroz the Third
Title: The Adjusters #18 - A Day in the Life (I)
Keywords: MF, mc
Posted: July 4, 2011
Edited: July 4, 2011




			  The Adjusters #18


			A Day in the Life (I)


The light of the new day snuck its way into Cindy Caprese's bedroom
through the curtains and woke her up. Filtered through the orange
material, the morning sunlight acquired the warm and welcoming hue
that never failed to put a smile on the blonde girl's face.

She stretched like a cat, basking in that magical moment when her mind
was emerging slowly from slumber. She glanced at the clock. A touch
past seven. She had nothing planned until eleven, so nothing conspired
to make her miss her appreciation of the morning.

There were faint whispers and giggles from the other side of the wall
to her right. Cindy listened a few moments, then grinned. Her roommate
Melinda had her boyfriend, Chris, over the previous evening, and from
the sound of it must have spent the night. Cindy had fallen asleep to
the sounds of their coupling, and she was ready to bet that she was
fated to wake up in the same manner.

As if to confirm her assessment, a loud moan made its way through the
paper thin walls, followed by a louder. "Fuck yes, Christ! Just put it
in!" and then a "Oh god! Yes! That's it! Right there!"

Whatever Chris (Christ? She'd have to tease Melinda about that one!)
was doing must be to Melinda's liking, thought Cindy, because her
friend had come three or four times the previous night, loudly, with
great force of obscenities, and she seemed of the same mindset this
morning. Chris, on the other hand, seemed more the silent type.

Cindy lazily listened to her roommate getting an excellent lay in the
next room. She thought about her own love life. Melinda had been
hooking up with Chris -- a boyfriend of the "Fuck me harder! Come on!
Shove it in, you bastard! Fuck! Yes!" variety -- for a month now, and
she was glowing. Cindy had not had a date since, well, it seemed like
forever. Were she to think about it, she would probably have to face
the fact that she had not dated since her freshman year. It was not
for lack of suitors, but she had come to the realization that dating
was not for her. She tried, for sure, and she had a few flings her
first semester on campus. But it had not been satisfying. It was not
the same. None of the guys she had gone out with had been right, none
had had what it took. In short, none of them had been Farid. That was
the plain and painful truth. She missed the sex, missed it
terribly. But Farid had broken something in her. (Really? Was it
really broken? Or did he just show her how broken she already was? She
did not know. Did she even want to know?) She had enough things that
she wanted to do that letting men fall to the way-side had been too
easy. Her pre-med program had quickly taken most of her time
anyways. She did not follow up, switching to Economics in her second
year, but she never looked back. But she had to admit

"God -- come on, grab my my tits! That's what you want, isn't it? To
squeeze my tits hard?"

Cindy smiled. Whatever else Melinda might be -- somewhat of a bookish
nerd, with a tendency to enjoy cheap science-fiction books and movies
that veered on the mentally unhealthy -- restrained during sex she was
not. How she and Chris, affable and quiet and giving the distinct
impression of never having raised his voice above a loud whisper,
ended up together and especially stayed together was one of those
mysteries better left to future anthropologists to study.

"Come on! Squeeze! Harder! Aaargh! Now push -- inside! Fuck yes! Yes!"

She had always thought she was not particularly restrained herself,
sexually speaking. At least, that had been the picture in her own
mind. But the first times she was faced with the possibility of sex,
in middle school, she blocked. It was not shyness, nor was it
self-consciousness. She did not know what it was. She had
blocked. Just blocked. She had not been able to make the first steps,
and had resisted the steps that her companion had made. She had wanted
it, badly. But she just could not do it. Until Farid, that is. Until
Farid had gotten under her skin, in high school. He had shown her that
she was indeed open to sex. He had introduced her to kinky sex, and
she had taken to it like a fish to water. And Farid certainly liked
his sex kinky. He was extremely visual, was always pushing her to
dress up more and show off her body. He loved to see her on her knees
blowing him, and preferred pretty much anything over straight
intercourse: foot jobs, tit jobs, rubbing his dick between her thighs,
preferably while she wore stockings. He liked coming in her mouth, or
on her chest, or in the small of her back, and loved nothing more than
making her rub his semen into her skin. And she loved it back. All of
it. That he ate pussy like a god was not to be dismissed either.

"Pull my legs up -- pull my legs up you fuck! I wanna feel your chest
on my thighs! Yeah! God -- like that, just like that! Ugh! Fuck yes,
deeper! Push on 'em! Push on my legs! Fuck! Yes!"

How had Farid done it? What was the key that he used to unlock her
sexuality? Somehow, he had recognized what was deep inside her, the
seething desire, the smoldering volcano of her lust. He had known what
she had herself been unable to figure out, that she needed to be
pushed through her blockage. She would not or could not do it by
herself, someone else had to do it. And Farid had pushed. Farid had
loved to push. He wanted her. He had taken her. She resisted at first
-- like always -- but he pushed harder, and she yielded. With her
whole soul. And once she had yielded, she was his. He had played with
her, had used her -- like a masturbatory aid at times more than
anything else -- and she had been more than delighted to oblige. She
had basked in it, the release, the letting go. The full and complete
abdication of responsibility. She could not do it on her own. But
Farid had pushed her through her own wall, and she had surrendered her
body and her mind to him. And he had taken advantage of it to its
fullest.

"Ugh! Oh yes, that's it, like that! Push on 'em! Oh -- you like that,
you fucking perv, don't you -- to push my legs apart like that, like a
fucking whore, keeping me open so you can stuff that fat cock of yours
up my cunt? Oh! Fuck! Oooh! Come here and kiss me and then fuck me,
you fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Yes!"

When Farid dropped her like a used whore, right after prom night (and
what a prom night it had been -- she still shivered when she thought
about it) she was devastated, but part of her, the level-headed
rational part of her, figured that her wall had been breached, and
that once she had recovered from the heartbreak, she would be able to
find another boy. But it had not worked. The wall was still there,
solid as ever. Only Farid had known how to push her through it. And
Farid was gone. She had despaired of ever having sex again, ever
feeling free again. Even when desire was choking her up, she was
blocked. Like two weeks ago, when she was sitting on Daniel's lap at
that party, and she had felt his erection underneath her, pressing
into her ass, and it had turned her on so much, and she was hoping so
hard that he would just kiss her and caress her and disregard her
protests and just take her -- but no, Daniel was too nice, too polite,
too considerate.

And then last year the Delta Iota Kappa boys had worked their voodoo
on her, and turned her into their play thing. When she had woken up in
that little lab with that older man calling himself the Doctor, she
had at first been terrified, but had eventually understood that she
had been drugged, and that the Doctor had used her drug-induced haze
to implant deep subliminal suggestions into her mind. She had almost
asked the Doctor about them before she realized from his words that he
had not expected her to know about it, and she figured that she might
be in real trouble if he did find out.

The Delta Iota Kappa boys had been using her for a week as a sex toy
-- a week of non-stop sex that left her glowing with pleasure --
before she discovered that the suggestions had begun to fade in the
background, eventually barely affecting her more than as an annoying
voice in the back of her mind. But they were still embedded in her
psyche deeply enough to breach the wall blocking her own desires, and
when the frat boys triggered her, she felt the same freedom that she
had enjoyed with Farid, and basked in it and enjoyed the sex with the
boys. They did not know any better -- she was not controlled, but she
happily served them. She stripped for them, sucked them, fucked
them. All things she had done for Farid, all things that Farid had
made her do. As a whole, the frat boys were fairly unimaginative,
except for a few of the older ones that had enough of a mean streak to
thoroughly enjoy dominating and humiliating the girls. And of course,
there had been Biff, who had all the subtlety of a thick-headed bull
and the sexual appetite of a freakish rabbit. For all his faults,
though, he had a dick to match, and she had had her fair share of
orgasms as he plowed his large tool into her. All in all, whatever the
Doctor had done to her had allowed her to enjoy sex again. And all
that the boys wanted, really, was another pretty little thing to use
as a fuck toy, and if there was one thing that Cindy had learned to do
well was to be a pretty little fuck toy. She did feel moderately
guilty sometimes about the other girls they had ensnared, but she had
managed to convince herself that they got as much out of it as she
had.

"Is that all you got? Fuck! My baby brother can fuck better than that!
Get off me -- on your back -- There, don't move! Ooooh! Fuck! Don't
you fuckin' move till I've you all inside! Fuck! Oh! Oh! Yes! Fuckin'
big in my pussy! Oh fuck! Okay, now move, push it in, push -- Oh! Oh!
Yes!"

Cindy smiled, imagining curvy Melinda sitting on top of Chris's hard
dick and sliding up and down, probably playing with her breasts while
Chris tried to hold on to her hips for dear life. Cindy's own hand
strayed to one of her breasts, cupping the full, fleshy mound and
tweaking a nipple for good measure. It responded promptly, sending a
spark of arousal down her body all the way to her toes. As she played
with her breasts, she thought back to her life as a Delta Iota Kappa
girl, before her chat with Jackson which led her to give up her charms
bracelet, which she knew deep down inside was linked to the trigger
they had given her. She did not know exactly how it worked, but there
was a link. And now that it was gone, she feared that she had lost the
one chance she had to let her sexual side go free. But there had been
no hesitation to give it all up.

Her hand was squeezing her breasts harder now, while her other hand
had trailed down her body and slid under the waist band of the lace
panties she had on -- she liked to sleep in pretty things, imagining
that she was putting on a show for a fantasy lover -- and she was
slowly using the tip of her finger on one sensitive pussy lip. She
could feel her juices running, and smiled at the thought of the
pleasure soon to come. Her fingers edged their way up towards her
clit.

"Come on, grab my ass, you bastard! What kind of man are you? That's
right, grab it hard -- Oh! Come on, push me down, force me down on
your cock, rub my clit down against you -- Oh fuck! Yes! Harder! Fuck!
Yes!"

Cindy's fingers had found her clit, and she was playing with it the
way she liked it, teasing the hard button by flicking it lightly, then
rubbing hard at the base, her other hand doing something similar to
her nipple. She was horny, as was usually the case early in the
morning. A female morning boner, Farid had called it, and he had often
sat down to watch her pleasure herself in front of him, for
him. Thinking about being a toy for the frat boys just made her even
hornier. What would happen now? If she were triggered by a brother,
would it breach the wall again, let her enjoy herself with a man? No
one had since that day when she gave up the bracelet. But it did not
matter, not really. She was now there for Daniel, and she was intent
on helping him through his difficult time, while his fiancee was at
the hands of Biff. (At least she's going to get the fucking of her
life, Cindy though.) Thinking about Daniel made her clit-diddling
finger move faster, and without conscious thought she brought it and
others fingers down her slit and slowly, carefully, slipped them
inside her hot and wet entrance. The penetration made her skip a
breath, but she recovered, and before too long she was thrusting her
fingers in and out, the hand on her breast now squeezing harder. She
spread her legs further apart, kicking the covers off. If only Daniel
could see her now, legs apart, fucking herself with her own
fingers. The thought of putting on such a wanton show for him, just
for his pleasure, made her push her fingers deeper insider her, and
her hips lifted off the bed to facilitate the penetration. It felt
good, very good, her thumb pressing against her clit providing
additional stimulation.

"No way -- you're not coming, not now! You fucking bastard! Pull out,
now. No, don't you dare touch that cock! If you come now, I first kick
you in the balls, then I kick you out and you're not fucking ever
getting into this pussy again, got that? Good!" Some mumbling. "Then
quit staring at my tits if it does! Here, you wanna stare at my ass
instead? How about I stay here like this until you get yourself under
control and then you can shove that cock of yours into me from behind?
Oh fuck! Already? Oh yes! Like that! Don't you fuckin' come, you hear
me? Oh fuck, yes! Deeper! Harder! Like that! Harder! Harder!"

Poor Chris, smiled Cindy, her own fingers thrusting harder in rhythm
with Melinda's vocalizations. She wondered how Daniel would fuck her
-- slowly and lovingly, hard and dispassionately, or something in
between? Would he lavish attentions on her titties? On her pussy? On
her ass? He certainly stole glances at her legs like most boys around
campus did, something that invariably made her juice up. She lifted up
her legs, as if to show them off to an invisible Daniel at the foot of
the bed, the movement sending her thrusting fingers into a different
part of her pussy, making her moan.

Her fingers were not enough. Reluctantly, she interrupted herself long
enough to reach over to her nightstand and pull out a large, realistic
dildo. Daniel junior, she had called it, feeling utterly naughty when
she did. She sank back on the bed, one hand going back to teasing her
clit, and the other slowly pushing the dildo in her mouth, her
favorite lubrication method. As she sucked on the hard rubber shaft,
her mind went back to the party two weeks ago, remembering how Daniel
had felt underneath her, holding her in his arms, how hard his dick
had been. As hard as the rubber in her mouth. She slobbered on the
artificial shaft, picturing Daniel at the end of it, imagining she was
driving him wild with desire. She had been so jealous of Kyra for
actually sucking him off in that bathroom. She lined up the now
saliva-drenched dildo with her pussy and thrust it in and it went in
easily despite its size, and she moaned while images ran through her
mind, images of her kneeling on the floor at Daniel's feet instead of
Kyra and giving him one of her filthiest blow jobs, the kind that used
to drive Farid wild, and finishing him off by taking his cum into her
mouth, just to taste it, just to feel it fill her mouth and slide down
her throat. Would Daniel be like with Farid, loving to come in her
mouth, and on her face, and and in her hair, and on her tits, and
pretty much anywhere on her body? Did Daniel liked to see his lovers
drenched in cum, dripping with semen, covered in a thick glaze of man
juice? She was sawing the dildo in and out now, her breathing ragged.

"God -- that it, fuck me, you bastard! You like this -- fucking me
from behind like a two-cent whore? You like to see my ass shake like
that? Fuck! Harder dammit! You probably just like fucking me like that
so you can fantasize about fucking someone else -- fuck yes! Like
that! Hard! Again! Again! Ah! You like that, you bastard, don't you?
Probably thinking about Cindy on her hands and knees with her cute
little ass in the air and fucking her hard! Fuck! I've see you looking
at her, practically drooling like a horny retard. Fuck she's probably
right there listening and wishing it was her that you were fucking
with that hard cock! Oh! Yes! Harder!"

Cindy grinned. Melinda, you little sleaze, leave me out of this. The
dildo was doing its job, she was feeling herself getting closer and
closer to sweet oblivion. Again, she thought back to the party, how
part of her had wanted Daniel to grab her head and thrust it down on
his dick and made her suck him, deep, her mouth filling with his
dick. And how she had wanted him to pull her on his lap and force her
to sit down on his dick, and the thought of sitting down with her legs
spread wide with Daniel's dick plowing into her as he pistoned her up
and down, naked and dripping with slobber while she danced on his hard
shaft made her thrust the dildo even harder, eliciting squishy noises
from her juicing pussy.

"Fuck me! I'm close! So close! Fuck me hard! Hard! Again! Oh! Again!
Oh! Oh! Oh! That's it! I'm gonna come! Put... oh! Put your
thumb... Fuck! Oh! Put your thumb in my ass! Yes! Yes! Please! Please!
Put it in... Oh! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! That's it! Right there! Fuck!
Deeper! I'm there! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yeeeees!"

Cindy kept on grinning right through Melinda's banshee scream of
pleasure, getting closer and closer to her own orgasm. Daniel Junior
was fucking her, hard and deep, filling up every nook and cranny,
stretching her wide. She would be good, she told herself, she would
not throw herself at Daniel hoping for him to fuck her until she was
reasonably certain that he wanted her for herself and not because he
was hurting over Jenn. But that did not mean that she could not
fantasize about spreading her legs for him and letting him plow into
her however he wanted, wherever he wanted, as often as he wanted --
letting him fuck her with her legs shoved above her head, or from
behind, or fuck her mouth, or her tits, or strip for him and dance for
him and dress up for him and fuck herself for him and degrade herself
for him and offer her body and her heart and her soul to him to do
with as he wished.

The thought ran on as she slid her free hand under her ass and spread
her leaking juices all over her little rosette with one finger before
shoving the dildo faster and faster into her pussy while she thrust
one finger inside her ass, and that rush sent her over the edge and
with one deep thrust the dildo was in deep and her finger was in deep
and her body clenched up as if seizing and her world exploded in a
shower of orange-hued sparks and she came with Daniel's name on her
lips.


				* * *


"And again, I maintain that this is but a travesty of justice, a
shameful wool pulled over our collective eyes, an attempt at
misdirection to further political means of the Establishment, inherent
on maintaining the same status quo that has kept our great nation
down."

Serena Banks grunted, not bothering to take any notes. This press
conference was a joke -- so many words to say absolutely nothing. Just
another platform for them to spew their intolerance rhetoric.

The other reporters at the conference were already bombarding Steve
Bissonette, the speaker and de facto head of the campus branch of the
New American Deal Association, with their predictably softball
questions. Serena bid her time. There was no rush, and plenty of time
to hand Bissonette the cord with which he would hopefully hang
himself.

Ten minutes later, after the barrage of questions had petered out,
came the lull she had been waiting for. She raised her hand. "Mister
Bissonette. Serena Banks from the Darnell Daily. How do you respond to
the allegations that your organization was a key player in the
prostitution ring busted right before Christmas by the Feds?"

The speaker stared at her with eyes that seemed to seep with
anger. "Miss Banks, there is not a shred of evidence that NADA was
involved in any illegal activity, let alone prostitution. We hold
women sacred, as the strong core at the heart of nuclear families,
which are themselves the nuclei of the steel that underlies the
American ideal. Those allegations you refer to are slander, pure and
simple slander! And we shall have our day in court, and everyone --"

"Mister Bissonette, what about the testimony of one Miss Duquesne,
detailing her mistreatment at the hands of NADA?"

Bissonette opened his mouth to respond when a man standing next to him
leaned over and whispered in his ear. Bissonette nodded.

"I have been advised," he said, "to not comment on the impending court
case. But we shall prevail, and the truth will out!"

Serena grunted once more, then turned towards the man that had sat
down next to her while she was asking her questions. He had a little
smile on his face, and he was looking squarely at her. She had seen
him before, but could not remember where. He was striking -- blonde
hair and pale blue eyes, probably scandinavian. Sharp pants and a nice
shirt, high fashion for the campus. He looked too young to be a
professor. Then she noted the fraternity ring on his finger. Ah, she
said to herself, that's where I know him from -- a Delta Iota Kappa
boy.

"May I help you?" she asked, wanting him to go away, trying to keep
track of what the next question was and of Bissonette's response.

"I hope so," said the young man with the pale blue eyes. He had a
slight accent. Definitely scandinavian, she mused. He was perfectly
composed, and looked more serious than the Delta Iota Kappa boys
usually were, and seemed to old to be an undergraduate.

Serena turned her attention back to Bissonette, who was explaining in
great detail how supporting prostitution would be antithetical to the
principles underlying their organization. When he paused to breathe,
Serena raised her hand and without waiting to be called upon asked in
a loud voice, "do the principles your organization holds apply as well
to persons of color and foreigners who were attached in the most part
to illegal brothel activity? Could you give us a definition of
personhood advocated by NADA that supports that race and ethnicity
have no bearing on who your principles apply to?"

Bissonette shot Serena an angry look and continued with his reply to
the original question. Serena leaned back in her seat, satisfied with
herself. If she was patient enough, she knew, Bissonette would dig his
own grave, and probably nail together his own coffin afterwards.

The man next to her spoke up again. "You don't like him very much, do
you?"

She glanced back at him, annoyed. "Who, Bissonette? He's an idiot. A
dangerous idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. And now that the big shots
at the head of his association have been arrested, he's in charge."

"I don't think he likes you very much either."

Serena let out a harsh laugh. "No kidding. I've been on the
association's case since last year, and ever since he's been put in
charge he's been fighting me and eluding me every step of the way. But
believe you me: in this game of endurance I'll outrun him. He'll be
crying uncle before the month is out. Trust me."

"That should be very interesting to see."

"Glad you enjoy it. Now if you don't mind, I need to get back to --"

"Serena, I am your dick brother."  Serena's eyes automatically shot
down to his hand, seeking then seeing the wide Delta Iota Kappa ring
on his finger, upon which she felt a cold wave run through her body,
from her head down to her toes, as if a sheet of cold air had
enveloped her.

When the cold had dissipated it was replaced by a pleasant warmth,
which seemed to emanate from the man next to her. She wanted more of
that warmth. She wanted it to turn into a white hot heat that would
consume her from within. She would do anything he wanted to feel that
heat she could just sense at the edge of her new consciousness. There
was only the man now. The rest of the world had faded away. She knew
how to get to the white heat, too.

"Hi baby," she said, trying to make her voice sounds sultry, the way
she knew boys liked it. "Do you want to have some fun?" She pressed
one of her legs against his, and leaned over towards him, her lips
wanting to make contact with his skin. She moistened them.

The man beside her merely smiled. He nodded towards Bissonette at the
front of the room, who was answering another reporter. "Serena, just
continue doing your job right now. Fun will be had later."

At his words, world around her came back into focus, and she could
hear Bissonette's words from the stage once more. He was answering a
question about his prior knowledge of the various activities in which
his previous superiors had been involved. Serena could not help but
think he sounded defensive.

"Although," the man with the pale blue eyes said, his voice making her
heart almost skip a beat, "there's no reason why we can't enjoy the
rest of this press conference -- why don't you undo, say, the top
three buttons of your blouse?"

Serena gave him a smile. The heat emanating from him was washing over
her in waves, and made her long for more. She reached up with her
hands and did what he asked, undoing three buttons on her blouse and
pulling aside the folds. There was no one sitting near them, although
that would not have changed anything. With her blouse now open down to
the middle of her breasts and exposing her black bra, she knew she
would be giving everyone a large expanse of cleavage to feast
over. All she cared about though, all that was important, was that the
young man with the pale blue eyes next to her found the view to his
liking, and she thrust her chest out slightly to emphasize her
assets. When she saw that his eyes were roaming all over the exposed
flesh of her breasts, she felt warm all over, and her nipples started
tingling. She was getting turned on, she realized. She could feel her
pussy juice up at the attention the man was giving her.

At the podium, Steve Bissonette seemed to be wrapping up. Serena
raised her hand and asked the question she had been holding in
reserve.

"Mister Bissonette -- one last question, sir. What do you respond to
the allegations that your association had been handing out bribes to
officers on the municipal police force along with the regional Bureau
in exchange for the police to look the other way? Can you deny --"

And here Serena had to mark a pause because the man with the pale blue
eyes had casually put one of his hands on her knee, and was caressing
up her leg, his palm making full contact with her inner thigh, moving
up slowly, pushing up her skirt as he went along. It was maddening --
Serena longed to spread her legs wide and press his hands against her
pussy before it threatened to burst into flames. She took a deep
breath.

"-- Can you deny that many of the girls that were found in the house
rented under your association's name had never had a missing person's
report filed against them?"

Bissonette seemed to be taken aback by the question, and her
experience told her that he was genuinely puzzled by her
question. Odd, she thought. Less odd was his eyes straying down to her
chest, undoubtedly noticing that her shirt was baring most of her
breasts. He could not see down below though, or he would have seen the
man next to her -- having pushed her skirt straight up and exposed the
full length of her legs -- running his finger along the edge of her
diminutive panties, teasingly sliding his finger under the gusset and
touching her soaked pussy. Without realizing it, she was tilting her
hips up to provide him better access.

Bissonette, meanwhile, concocted a response that Serena's analytic
mind interpreted as "I have no idea what you're talking about so I
won't comment." And that was fine with her, because the man's finger
was driving her crazy.

She worked hard to stifle a moan when his finger slid between her
pussy lips and slipped into her her up the second knuckle. Bissonette
was taking a few more questions, but clearly was getting ready to
bring the press conference to a close. Serena, despite the lust that
was overwhelming her, was already composing her article in her head,
thinking how the new NADA official had evaded all questions that were
not superficial and inoffensive.

And then the press conference was over and the handful of reporters in
the room stood up. The man next to Serena unhurriedly pulled his
finger out of her panties and straightened up. Serena was breathless,
turned on, yet had enough presence of mind to pull her skirt down
before anyone around could see her.

"One of the things I love about you, Serena," the man with the pale
blue eyes was saying, "is just how incredibly wet you get. Anyone ever
told you what a turn on that is?" He was holding up his finger, wet
from her juices. He ran it over her lips, pressing just the tip into
her mouth, and she obediently twirled her tongue around the tip,
tasting herself. She had done that often, of course, tasted herself,
with various lovers -- men always loved when she sucked on their cock
right after they had fucked her. But that they were in public now,
that some of the reporters filing out of the room looked at her
questioningly, most likely because her blouse was unbuttoned down to
the middle of her breasts, just served to feed the fire now burning
inside her and by which she wanted to be consumed.

"If it weren't for you needing to be somewhere else right now,"
continued the man, "I'd have those big lips of yours wrapped around my
dick!"

Serena looked at him, trying to convey with her eyes and the suction
on the tip of his finger just how delighted she would be to suck him
off, just how good of a job she would do. The man seemed to pick up on
it, groaning before sighing as he pulled his finger away from her
mouth. "Unfortunately, that will have to wait till later. We have a
little something to take care of right now. Come with me."

The man stood up, and Serena followed suit, gathering her
things. Outside the conference room, the man turned down a long
hallway before going up a flight of stairs, Serena following him
silently, her high heels clacking on the bare floors. After trailing
down another long hallway he stopped in front of a large wooden
door. He unlocked it with a key he pulled out of his wallet, and let
Serena in. The room beyond looked like the foyer of a hotel suite, and
Serena guessed that this was a salon that university officials used to
entertain their VIP guests. Serena wondered how the man with the pale
blue eyes had managed to get a key.

"We do have some high-level connections with the administration, of
course. In particular, a fairly high-level assistant -- a lovely girl,
really -- has proved more than willing to supply us with perks of all
sorts, from key access to certain rooms to the non-negligible assets
of her own body. And speaking of assets... stop and turn around,
Serena."

The command sent a trail of fire coursing through Serena's body. There
was little she wanted to do but obey this man. Obeying this man meant
burning. And burning was bliss. He stepped to her and finished
unbuttoning her blouse. He unsnapped her bra. They were alone, so she
had no longer any drive to remain silent. Anything to get him to fuck
her.

"So, you like my big tits, don't you?" she asked, trying to make it
sound just like the come-on that it really was.

The man had freed her breasts, and took a few moments to heft them,
caress them, thumb her hard nipples in a way that made her gasp.

"Oh yes," he replied, matter of factly, "I like your big tits, I like
your wet pussy, too, and I love those cocksucking lips of yours." He
ran his finger over said lips. "It's like your body was put together
for fucking."

Serena shivered with arousal as the fingers trailed down from her
mouth the side of her face, and took a step forward to wrap her arms
around the man and pull him close for a kiss.

"But my body really is made for fucking, and it's damn good at
it. Want me to show you how good it can be?" And she pressed against
him and kissed him, her tongue thrusting into his mouth, her crotch
against his thigh. She wanted him to just truss up her skirt, shove
her panties aside and push into her and claim her like the craving
need that she was. She lifted her leg, pressing it against his,
running it up and down, and she could feel he was reacting, both by
his kiss becoming more intense and by his cock hardening against
her. She was elated, and so aroused she was certain her juices had
drenched through her underwear.

The man finally broke the kiss, his imperturbable demeanor showing
signs of cracking. "Damn, you are hot! But now is definitely not the
time." He adjusted his shirt, nodding towards the center of the
room. "I want you to go there, take off that blouse and that bra, and
kneel down, and keep quiet. Not a word until I tell you to, got that?"

Pleased to do what he wanted her to do, Serena took off her blouse and
tossed it on a nearby chair, soon followed by her bra. The exposure
hardened her nipples into large red pebbles. She kneeled down after
pulling her skirt up over her thighs. Her eyes trained on the man, she
saw his eyes roam over her body and take in her large breasts. She
thrust her chest out to display them to their best advantage. The man
sighed audibly. "You are not making this easy, that's for sure. Keep
your eyes down."

Serena obeyed, the warmth in her pussy throbbing in response. She
heard a knock at the door. The man adjusted his shirt again, and
answered. "You are right on time --"

"Cut the crap! I'm only here because I'm curious what kind of excuse
you're going to offer for the shit you've pulled. I'm done with your
fucking frat, you hear me? The way you just tossed my friends under
the bus was just... Well, you're going to regret it, lemme tell you
--" Steve Bissonette had stormed into the room, but stopped dead in
his tracks when he saw Serena kneeling half-naked on the floor.

The man with the pale blue eyes came up alongside him. "Our president
is deeply saddened by these events. While your organization's loss has
been painful, it did prevent things that are better left hidden to
come to the surface, an exposure that would have been much worse for
both our organizations in the long run. By way of apology, and as a
show of contrition, we are offering you a chance to spend some quality
time with one of your close friends."

Bissonette's eyes were on her. She could not see them, but could feel
them, and she knew they must have been registering shock, and also
lust. She was embarrassed, but this was what the man with the pale
blue eyes had told her to do.

"I... I don't understand," said Bissonette, at last.

"She's yours, Bissonette. To do with as you wish for the next --" he
checked his watch "-- two hours. A gift from Delta Iota Kappa. I'm
only asking you to please leave no permanent marks."

He turned to Serena, who was still just staring at the
ground. "Serena, for the next two hours, until I get back here, I want
you to obey Mister Bissonette like you would obey me, do you
understand? He makes you feel like I do, and can tell you to do
anything except go against what I am telling you now."

Serena felt a flush of heat from Bissonette, equalling that coming
from the man with the pale blue eyes. She could not resist the draw,
and looked up at the NADA official. He was looking at her with naked
lust, and the sight turned the heat washing over her into a burning
fire. He liked her! He wanted her! She felt her nipples tighten, and
her pussy juice up. She smiled, that smile which always drove men
wild, the one that promised that every single dirty thing in their
head she could make true. She heard his breath shift, and his eyes
dipped back down to her breasts. She cupped them with her hands,
caressing them slowly, squeezing them, pushing them together, offering
them to him. They were so sensitive, marveled Serena, and felt so
good, and she could not suppress a little moan. Through half-closed
eyes, she saw Bissonette lick his lips. He liked her chest. She could
use that to stoke that fire between her legs.

"You like my tits Steve? You can play with them, if you like." She put
as much seduction into her voice as she could. She had hefted her
breasts up, and her pelvis was gyrating slowly, despite her kneeling
position on the ground. She was looking at him square in the eyes.

The man with the pale blue eyes cracked a little smile. "Well, now
that she is started, I should make myself scarce. Enjoy yourself,
Bissonette. I will see you back here in two hours."

Bissonette nodded, then grabbed the man's arm. "Wait! What can
I... What can I do with her?"

"Anything you want, Bissonette. You can play Parchesi with her for all
I care. Just do not damage her. My advice? Let her drive. It's what
she does best."

Bissonette remained motionless for a few minutes after the man with
the pale eyes left the suite. He look at her, fixedly, while she kept
kneading her breasts. She could practically already feel his cock
sliding between them, snuggled tight after she had pushed them
together to form a flesh tunnel into which he could thrust. The mental
image made her head spin. She needed to get fucked, and soon.

He finally took a step towards her, and she moaned in
anticipation. She looked up at him, her pelvis still gyrating, as if
she was fucking some invisible man spread out underneath her.

"Why are you doing this? Did they put you up to this, to trick me?" He
looked around, suspicious, as if he was trying to spot hidden cameras.

"Come on, Steve, it's me. Do you really think I'd be right here, on my
knees, playing with my big tits, craving to feel your cock inside me,
just to trap you? It'd be so much worse for me than for you, don't you
think? Imagine the headlines: Serena Banks, slutting herself out for
the head of NADA. You'd come out as a stud -- I'd come out as the
black girl who can't keep her legs together for the big strong white
man." She could see it too, she on her back with her legs spread wide,
perhaps holding on to them at the knee, Bissonette lying down on top
of her, thrusting into her hard. Her clit throbbed. She moaned, and
squeezed her breasts harder. "No," she continued when she had
recovered. "I'm here to please you, serve you, obey you. And you're
making me hot right now -- the way you look at me, the things that I
can see you want to do to me. Come on, Steve, I'm all yours. Do
anything you want to me -- anything." She longed to run a finger
through her slit, smearing her juices around. She could feel her
G-string soaked through and through.

Bissonette seemed to come to a decision, and his face hardened for a
second. "Well, I gotta say I love to see you like this, on your
knees. Can't help but feel like it's your proper place. You've been a
pain in the ass for me and my friends for a while now, and maybe it's
time you got a bit of what you gave."

Serena's eyes lit up, and she stood straighter, arching out her
rear. "Oh? You want to fuck my ass? Go right ahead, it's all
yours. And it's so tight, too -- you're gonna love it!" Her hands
never stopped squeezing her breasts. She wanted this man something
fierce.

Bissonette shook his head, ran his hand down the side of her
face. When his fingers were close to her lips Serena turned her head
and slipped them in to her mouth, sucking hard, her eyes closing, her
throat making little sounds.

Bissonette let her suck on his fingers for a while. He was smiling
now, a little smile that promised nothing good. "I guess Helberg was
right -- you like to drive. Why does that not surprise me? And that
just won't do. You see, I like my bitches, especially my nigger
bitches, to do just what they're told." He pushed his fingers deep
into Serena's mouth and she gagged loudly.

He shoved his fingers in and out of her mouth, pressing her head down
with his other hand. Serena submitted happily to this treatment, doing
her best to make her tongue fly over the invading fingers. At some
abstract level, she realized that she should have been bothered by his
treatment of her, by his casually racist remarks -- what do you expect
from NADA anyways? -- but that was where it remained, an abstract
concern. Much more immediate was the knowledge that Bissonette was
turned on, as witnessed by the tent of his pants, and seeing him
turned on turned her on in turn, and she redoubled her efforts to suck
on his thrusting fingers, drooling abundantly, keeping her eyes
trained on his. When he pulled his fingers out, she put on her best
come-hither smile. "You want me to be your nigger bitch, Steve? I'll
be the best damn nigger bitch you've ever had -- after I'm done with
you, those white cunts you like to fuck will -- Oh!"

She had hoped to inflame him further by catering to his bigoted side,
and it must have worked too well, because his face had turned red and
he slapped her breast, hard, sending both globes wobbling.

"First off, it's Mister Bissonette to you, bitch. Teach you some
respect for your betters. And second off, damn right you're gonna be
my nigger bitch. You're going to pay me back for you being an uppity
lying bitch, thinks she's so much better than everyone else!" He was
shouting now, and he slapped her breasts again. "You belong on your
knees choking on a real man's cock!"

He had unzipped his pants and his cock was standing at attention, his
glans a dark angry red. She looked at it, hungry, then looked up at
his face. She had always been good at reading people, and here she had
a pretty good idea of what would egg Bissonette on. What she wanted
was for him to fuck her, as hard as he could, and she knew exactly how
to get it. She put on her best innocent smile.

"Of course, Mister... Bissonette..." and she dove onto his cock,
taking most of it in her mouth in one stroke, the head hitting the
back of her throat. Bissonette gasped, his knees almost giving out
from under him. She kept his cock in her mouth for several seconds,
running her tongue back and forth underneath the hard flesh. She
pulled him out and sucked him again, and again, eventually
straightening her back and lining her head up and in one swift stroke
taking him down her throat, pressing her breasts against his legs and
pulling on his ass with her hands. She milked him with her throat, and
he grunted hard.

"Fuck -- you bitch -- you cocksucking bitch -- feels good -- feels so
fucking good! -- Oh fuck!"

When her lungs complained she pulled out, drool leaking out of her
mouth and onto her chest, and she rubbed it in while caressing her
breasts. She took a deep breath. She looked up at him. "Your cock
feels so good in this nigger slut's throat, Mister Bissonette. And
it's so hard..." She stroked it lightly with her hand. "You must have
thought about fucking my mouth often, haven't you? Whenever I
interviewed you, or asked you questions, did you, Mister Bissonette,
ever think I'd be on my knees like this, begging you to shove your
cock in my nigger mouth? That I'd be wet thinking of your cock
ravishing me? That you'd get to feel your cock between these big fat
nigger tits?" And she raised herself up to cradle the hard shaft
between her breasts, squeezing them together and moving her body up
and down, rhythmically pressing on the cock that was sliding on her
chest. She spat down to add some lubrication, not needing to look up
to know that Bissonette was going crazy. Every boy she had ever let
fuck her breasts had gone gaga during the act, always seeming to
appreciate seeing their cock poke out of her cleavage. This time was
no different. And she fully expected Bissonette to push her away, and
possibly slap her breasts again, before he would come. Her bet was
that he would fuck her, hard, most likely from behind, while insulting
her. Which was fine with her, if it meant he would stick his cock
inside her and made her come, over and over again. She ground her
thighs together at the thought.

And, predictably, after enjoying her ministrations for a few minutes,
during which Serena alternated between rubbing her breasts against
Bissonette's cock and taking it deep in her throat, he pushed her down
to the ground.

"Fuckin' bitch!" he growled, grabbing his cock. "If you think making
me come with your mouth's gonna save you ass, you're wrong. I told
you, I like my bitches to do what I tell them to do, so you gonna do
just that, you little whore, you got that?"

Serena smiled. "Of course, Mister Bissonette. Anything you say, Mister
Bissonette --" She pulled her skirt up over her thighs, up to her
waist, and spread her long legs. Bissonette's eyes went wide, and he
stared transfixed at the little G string she had on and that was
practically transparent from her juices. "So what are you going to do,
Mister Bissonette? Do you want to fuck me, fuck your little nigger
slut?" She was getting into it now -- getting him worked up was fun,
and she ate up the look of frenzied lust in his eyes. She reached down
and pulled G string aside, and the air hitting her pulsating slit
almost made her gasp. "Wanna shove your big white cock in my tight
black cunt, Mister Bissonette? Hear me scream as you push it in? Ever
had black meat, Mister Bissonette? It's like sinking your cock into
liquid fire it's so hot in there. I'll ruin you for any white cunt out
there." She ran a finger along her slit, sending sparks up her back
and making her nipples tingle. If he did not take her soon, she
thought, damned be the young man with the pale blue eyes and his
instructions. I'm going to jump him and rape him. She slipped a finger
inside her wet pussy and started finger-fucking herself in front of
Bissonette. What would really push Bissonette over and make him lose
his mind? She smiled. It was obvious. It was all over the rhetoric of
his ground.

"Your cock would feel so much better than my finger, Mister
Bissonette. And I'm such a bad little nigger, fingering myself like
this. Wanna show me how your ancestors would subdue their nigger
slaves, Mister Bissonette? Wanna teach me who's my master, who's my
owner, Mister Bissonette? Wanna punish me with your big white cock,
master -- wanna punish me for being a bad nigger slut?"

Bissonette's eyes were mesmerized by her finger noisily pushing in and
out of her pussy, and by her words. He needed only one final little
push, she thought, and then he'd be down there satisfying her, and his
lust would be her happiness. But Bissonette acted on his own without
any further prompting. His voice was low and shaking, as if he was
exerting a great effort of control. "Get on your hands and knees, you
bitch, and show me that fucking ass of yours."

Serena smiled. She had him. Quickly, she flipped onto her hands and
knees, her skirt still bunched around her waist, and raised her ass
up, swaying it enticingly. She looked at Bissonette over her shoulder.

"You're gonna punish me for being a bad nigger slave by fucking my ass
master? But my little hole is too tight -- you'll never fit. You'll
rip me apart. Please, master. I'll be a good nigger slave from now on,
don't fuck my ass. Please! Don't fuck my ass!" Serena worried for a
second whether she had gone too far, but Bissonette just kneeled
behind her and slapped her ass cheek hard. "Shut up, bitch... you'll
take it where I say and when I say, you got that?"

The slap on her ass had sent ripples of pleasure coursing through
Serena's body, like waves on a lake. She looked at him over her
shoulder again. "Of course master. My little nigger slave body is all
yours to fuck as you wish -- Oh! -- Mmm... Yes..."

Bissonette was running his cock along her dripping slit, eliciting a
moan that she could not control. Her moan shifted to a gasp, and a
prolonged groan when he pushed his cock into her pussy in one hard
thrust. It went in like hot knife into butter, so aroused she
was. Finally, she thought, and she squeezed the hard cock inside her
with those muscles that had always driven her lovers crazy. Bissonette
was no exception, and he grasped her thighs to help push himself
deeper into her spasming snatch, stupefied by the sensation. "Fuck you
bitch," he kept repeating over and over again like a mantra as he
fucked her to her heart's content. It did not take long before she
felt a climax coming, rapidly, sneakily, and on a particularly hard
thrust on his part she came, her whole body spasming as if electric
current was running through it, a guttural moan the only sound she was
able to make, even thought as she really wanted to do was scream out
for him to fuck her harder.

That was like a cue for Bissonette, who pulled his cock out of her
pussy with a wet slurping sound and rubbed the head on her puckered
ass hole. "This is for all the shit you've given me, you fucking
bitch," he groaned before pushing into her bottom. His cock was well
lubed from its sojourn in her pussy, and her copious leaking juices
earlier had pooled in her hole and his cock slid in fairly easily into
her ass. He was smaller than many of the lovers she had had up there,
and she knew enough to relax herself to ease the penetration so that
it was not painful, and she was so turned on still that she probably
would not have cared even if it had been. She loved it, and the slow
penetration quickly brought her close to another climax. Bissonette
groaned, his hands on her ass, reveling in the sensation. "Fuck," he
growled, "you're so fuckin' tight, bitch -- Oh!..."

Serena squeezed his cock from the inside, then remembered her
role. She wanted to bring him off, knowing in her bones that when he
came inside her she would explode like never before. "Please, master,
don't fuck my little nigger ass too hard -- you're so big! I've never
had anything so big up my ass before."

His cock fully inside her, he slapped her ass again. "Shut up, you
bitch -- you'll take it as hard as I want to give it to you, you
whore!" And he pulled out slowly and thrust back into her, harder this
time, and Serena gasped in pleasure. "Oh! Fuck! Yes, I'm your whore,
your little ass whore! Fuck your little ass whore -- Fuck! -- Fuck! --
Fuck! -- Yes!"

Bissonette was ramming into her hard, just like she wanted, yearned,
craved. She had a series of small orgasms that were clearly leading up
to the big one, and she sneaked a hand down to her pussy and teased
and pinched her clit to add to the overwhelming sensations. Bissonette
was panting while he stabbed her ass, muttering to himself,
occasionally slapping a cheek before thrusting in again. And when he
started jerking and announcing that he was about to explode, Serena
thrust three fingers into her pussy, fucking herself while his cock
fucked her ass, and between that and Bissonette pushing into her deep
and releasing a volley of semen with a loud groan, she came, her body
clenching hard, immobile for several seconds before letting go and
deflating like a punctured balloon. Her vision dimmed as waves of
pleasure bounced up and down her body. She barely felt Bissonette
collapse over her, moaning in an exhausted voice how much of a whore
she was.

An hour and a half later, Bissonette was lying down on one of the
couches, drained, ready to pass out, while Serena was licking his cock
clean, purring like a kitten. Her chest was covered with semen, which
was also leaking abundantly from between her legs. She was waiting for
the man with the pale blue eyes to return, knowing by the heat in her
pussy that if she could get him to fuck her she would feel even better
than Bissonette had made her feel. She wondered idly what she could do
to make him take her, as she tried to coax another offering from the
shriveling cock in her hand.

