The Freedom Ch. 03

"Shh," I repeated, "Look at them and tell me who your favorite is."

"Her," he said, doing as he was told. He pointed out a girl with her back to us. She was on her knees, watching the sex show, body undulating as she fingered herself. She glanced over her shoulder, revealing a sweet face that had been twisted into a mask of carnal ferocity. I felt him pulse in mind at the sight of her pure "I want to get fucked by everyone all time" look.

"Ooo, what a bad boy you are, Mark, I had no idea! Great choice. Her ass is incredible. I'd love to watch you fuck that."

"Engaged," he grunted, sounding very far away.

"I know, I know. Remember, we're just fantasizing. Just watching porn, right?" I reiterated, "Like for me, I'd totally want her to just work me over with a strap-on." I pointed to the Take Back the Night girl who was now happily letting the freshman "victim" grind all over her face.

"Wow..." he mumbled.

"Yeah, could you see that? Her just fucking me like she was born with it. Me just lying there and taking it because I'm just too horny to do anything else."

Despite his obvious state of arousal, Mark, god bless him, still tried to talk himself out of it. "I really should get to work," he plaintively stated.

"Sure, Mark, I agree. But you can't work like this, can you? How would you focus? You are way too fucking hard for science right now. You'd screw up calculations or something I bet. Or worse, I'd take my eyes off you for a second and you'd be out in that hall fucking Ms. Incredible Ass. You wouldn't want to do that to Karen, would you?"

"Noooo," he agreed.

"Just let me take care of you then. You just watch those underclassmen bring each other joy and I'll help you get your focus back."

"O—okay," he conceded.

"Good boy. Now tell me if you like this," I requested, gently pushing him against his stomach and stroking him up and down."

"Fe-fe-feels good."

"But?" I asked, sensing hesitance.

He whispered his need, "Harder."

"Mmmmmmmm, okay," I assented in a throaty register.

"Uhhhhhhh," he groaned and pitch forward slightly as I alter my grip and pace.

"Like that?"

"Yessssssssss," he growled gratefully.

"Does my hand feel as good as Karen's?"

"Better," he admitted, "She's so worried about doing a bad job she...she makes herself do a bad job."

"Sound repressed."

"No. Maybe...I don't know."

"Must make it hard to stay faithful, a repressed, lousy handjob fiancée at home, all these hot teen and twenty-something students just creaming themselves at the thought of cumming in for a little extra help from their TA, if you catch my drift. Tell me, you ever grant their request for some extra credit?"

"Oh god," he moaned, delighting in the feeling of a student jerking him off, before answering, "Of course not. Aga...against the rules."

"Really? Never saw a freshman in a sun dress and been tempted? Or maybe caught a glimpse of a senior on Midnight Streak and made a note to invite her to your office to give you a closer look? Hmmm..."

"Lose...my position."

"That's not a no, is it? I bet you go home all the time and think about us naughty little coeds while you are pretending to care about your fiancée's pleasure, don't you? You are making love to her, but in your mind, you are fucking us."

"I...everyone has fantasies," he sighed resignedly, then groaned as he saw his favorite sister in the hall be taken by a very thin, small-chested goth looking girl. Ms. Incredible Ass spread her legs generously to allow the goth to dive right in.

"So that's a yes, teach? Don't worry, remember, I'll keep your secrets. Besides, it's not like I'm immune."

"What...how do you mean?" he asked turning his head to make eye contact with me for the first time.

"It's just gotten to be out of control, Mark. Every day, I watch you in class and I just get wetter and wetter. At first, I could get home before touching myself. Then, just rubbing my tits was enough to keep me at bay until I was safe in my bedroom. But now? God, now I'm touching myself the moment I get in my car. Soon, I'll probably have to excuse myself halfway through class to cum in the hallway just so we don't fuck in front of everyone."

"Really?" he asked, eyes wide. Suddenly, he was looking only at me, the Caligula-esque lesbian scene in the hallways losing out to the 21 year old student with her hand on his dick describing her lust for him.

"Yessss," I moaned, "Just last week, I had three fingers buried in me at a traffic light, doing everything I could not to just close my eyes and lose it, when the field hockey girls pulled up in their van off to some away game. I should've stopped, I know I should've, but I didn't. I couldn't. I don't even care that they probably saw me, watched me the whole time we were at that light. Actually, no, I do care. I hope they did. I bet they loved it when I came just before the light changed. I'm sure a few of them helped themselves out before the game after they saw me."

"Wow..." he groaned and I felt his cock grow even more in my hand. In reality, none of it was true. I had never fantasized about Mark, kind of handsome guy though he was. I had absolutely never got myself off to him and, had I, it definitely, without a doubt, did not happen in my car with the field hockey team looking on. However, The Freedom made me believe every word of it and Mark's mind was so addled by the mix of pheromone and my Freedom-enhanced handjob skills, he couldn't think straight enough to question it.

He continued to stare into my eyes as I stopped for a moment, licked my hand to get it nice and wet, and then grasped him again.

"Oh fuck," he hissed as I started to rub him again.

"Ooo, Mark, what nasty words. Are you allowed to talk that way around your students?"

"Sorry...sorry. You are just so...so fucking good at this."

I giggled, "I can't tell you how long I've wanted to hear you say that. Makes me so wet to know you are loving this."

His eyes rolled upward for a moment and he grunted. As he refocused on my face, I inquired, "Close?"

He nodded quickly, his breath coming in shallow spurts. Gulping air, he mustered enough to ask, "Does it...does it really make you wet?"

"Mmmhmm," I nodded, biting my lip. I grabbed on his hands and slipped it under my skirt, inviting him, "Feel."

"Oh god," he gasped.

"Karen doesn't get wet like that, does she?"

"N...n...no. Never."

"That's because she doesn't want to fuck you as bad I do. She doesn't need this cock in her like I do."

"Oh god!" he repeated, his finger separated my lips, seeking out my clit.

"Are you sure you want to do that, Mark?" I teased. "Getting a handjob from me so you can focus up isn't cheating, but I don't know about fingering me."

"Just being polite," he responded, smiling weakly. His finger found my button and I gritted my teeth to stay focused.

"Mmmm," I said after I managed to regather myself, "Great dick, talented fingers. I don't see why Karen lets you out of the house, nevermind leaves you so unsatisfied. I guess it's true what they say?"

"What do they say?" he asked, looking hopelessly confused.

I smirked to myself and thought of my mother. How hopeless and stupid she had been when she tried to seduce me, how incompetent. She had to inject me to offer me joy, I had Mark almost entirely in my control and I hadn't even traded fluids with him yet. The Freedom was making me feel superior, telling me how special I was, how much better I was than the other afflicted. That made me as wet as anything Mark was doing.

After a dramatic pause, I whisper coyly, "Never send an old lady to do a young slut's job."

Under normal circumstances, it was a ludicrous statement to make. Unless Mark's fiancée is significantly older than him, she is not even thirty yet; probably like 26 or 27. I'm 21. But with The Freedom in control of me and pheromones thick inside Mark's brain, it was naughty hot.

He moaned and slid two fingers inside me. "Are you calling yourself a—" Even this far under, he couldn't bring himself to say it. The Freedom-ized me thought that was cute, in a pathetic sort of way. The old me, the real me, at least I think it's the real me, hated that word, would never use it and certainly not to refer to myself. But, in that moment, I loved it. The way it felt in my mouth, tripping off my tongue. What it meant to call myself it. Calling myself slut felt almost as good to The Freedom me as good kiss felt to the real me. Scratch that...it felt better.

"Why not?" I replied, batting my eyelashes at him, "It's true, isn't it?"

His breath rattled out of him as he began to shake slightly. I pulled him closer to me, then grabbed the back of his head.

"Kiss me," I demanded, "Reward me for being such a great slut."

He acquiesced without a fight, his lips crashing into my own with frightful urgency. As we kissed, he grunted and groaned into my mouth, spraying his seed all over the laboratory door. I pulled away from him and begin to lick my fingers clean of the thick white desire that had not ended up on the door or the floor.

He stumbled away, clutching his head. "What did, ARRGH!, what did you do to me?" he accused me as I stood dispassionately by and watched. "Oh god," he groaned, sounding pained, "What's in my head?"

"Don't fight it," I urged him, then changed my mind, "Actually, do. The Freedom likes when you fight. It makes when you finally embrace it all the better."

"Wen—Wendy...I thought we were—" he stuttered, slipping and fall to the floor, "Tr...trying t-t-to fix this."

I got on my hands and knees and began to crawl to where he lay on the floor, wriggling like he was trying to shed The Freedom as a snake would its skin. I took sadistic pleasure in his resistance and in the knowledge that I would be the first to welcome him to joy when the transition was complete. With each inch I drew closer to him, I appreciated the feel of my breasts, small though they are, dangling from my chest, my nipples rubbing against the lace of my bra. I loved that the first thing Mark would see when he looked at me was directly down shirt at my tits.

"I don't want this," he mewed like a wounded animal, unknowingly repeating the Asian student's protests, "Please....Wendy...help."

I reached him and gently rubbed his leg, softly assuring, "It's okay, it's okay."

"Naaaaaaa," he growled in response, spasming. Even as he fought, I could see The Freedom was changing him. Gone were the love handles that you could see every time he wrote notes on the board. A quick glimpse of his eyebrows, the ones he always joked were so thick they'd never be singed off in a chemical mishaps, were now smaller, thinner, less obtrusive.

"You're already one of us," I thought triumphantly to myself.

I continued to speak to him in smooth, light tones, "It's okay, Mark, just look at me, I'm here for you."

Despite no doubt knowing my promise was a false one, that I and The Freedom were one and the same, he looked. He was a desperate man drowning in the sexual filth his own brain was showing him and he reached out blindly for any promise of salvation, despite being sure it was a false hope. And, of course, he eyes settled immediately on the downblouse I was all too happy to provide him. Tears ran down his cheeks as he resigned himself to the embrace. A man knows when he is broken.

"Why are you dressed like that?" he asked, eye firmly looked on the soft pale skin I was showing him. His voice sound like his throat was filled with stones and molasses.

I crawled up his legs towards him while answer, "I thought you'd like it. You seem the type."

"What type is that?" he seemed paralyzed in place, unmoving, unflinching. If it was not for the green ring in his eyes and the change in his voice, I'd have had no idea he was in the throes of The Freedom.

"Dirty perverts who get off on sexy coeds in catholic school uniforms. Was I right?"

"Why don't you find out?" he offered, gesturing to his crotch.

I purred as I slipped my hand into the still open zipper. His cock was hot— not warm, but hot—, unyielding, and thick in my hand. His ideal self definitely included a bigger dick.

"So, the better question I guess is, then," he began, "Why would you dress so provocatively when you knew you'd be around a dirty pervert?"

"Cause I wanted this," I shot back, throwing him a defiant, "come fuck me" look and tightened my grip on his eager member.

"Where do you want it, whore?"

"Anywhere you'll give it to me, sir."

"I think I want to fuck that sexy little ass of yours."

"This ass?" I teased, flipping my skirt up and spanking myself once, hard. A year earlier, I had broken up with a guy when he even brought up the idea of anal sex. Under The Freedom? I couldn't wait to serve it up.

"That's the one. The one you are always showing off in class. Bending over, 'looking for your books in your bag,' presenting it like some bitch in heat."

"Mmm, you figured me out. I just wish those boys had been man enough to take want I was offering."

"That's why I'm here, to give you what you've been begging for."

"Ooo, but what will your fiancée think?"

"She can let me know when she's done licking my dick clean of you."

"Wow!" I exclaimed, mockingly, "You must be in control at home."

"You know I am. She's so happy I let her taste me, she knows her place. I do what I want when I want."

"Prove it, you sick fuck," I dared him, spitting in his face.

Silently, he grabbed my hair in both hands and held me tightly in place as he forced his lips against my own. I bit his tongue, he pulled my hair harder, I relented with a moan, grinding myself on his thigh. He threw me aside on the floor and stood above me.

"God, you soaked my pants," he said, gesturing to the wet spot where I had just been seeking friction, "You must really want it."

"Anywhere, anytime," I admitted, clambering to my knees.

"What if I want you only to give it up to me? Will I have to break you?"

I goaded him as I ran the blade of my hand up and down my slit, "You're welcome to try."

He began to unbutton his pants and slide them down his legs. He did so without his eyes, shining with that sick shade of green, leaving my body. He watched me pleasure myself with undisguised lust. His boxers followed shortly after, exposing his newly Freedom enhanced love rocket to my own licentious gaze. Like Pavlov's dogs, my mouth instantly watered at the sight of it, throbbing there, all thick and heavy. The head glistened as a drop of pre-cum precariously perched in its center, threatening to succumb to gravity, denying my mouth its slick pleasure.

"I bet you can't wait to get this in your mouth," he teased me.

I nodded, still masturbating myself.

"You want to taste me so bad, don't you teacher's pet."

Again, a nod, a bit lip.

"What if I tell you the only way I'll give this cock is if you promise that no other cocks will slide between those beautiful lips; will plunge into the greedy throat?"

I took a moment, then replied defiantly, "I'd tell you that I'd settle for all those other cocks and miss out on yours then vice versa."

"Really?"

"Mmmmhmmm," I moaned breathily as I switched from the blade of my hand to two fingers directly on my clit, "It's a shame though because I really, really want your cock in my mouth. I'd make you feel so fucking good, Mark, I would."

"You think so?"

"Let me show you, you'll see." Before he had a chance to reply, I sprung forward, hands wrapping around the backs of his upper thighs. I forced him into my mouth, humming triumphantly.

Over me, he huffed and cursed, "Oh god! Fucking bitch. Didn't say—uhhhhh—didn't say yes. FUCK!"

I ignored his protestations, knowing they were half hearted. Under The Freedom, I knew I was the Queen of Cock Sucking, the Dame of Deep Throat. No man could resist my lips, my tongue, my throat and Mark was no exception.

"You love this, don't you? Taking control of me?" he groaned.

I grinned around his cock and nodded before taking him as deep as I could, feeling the burn in the corners of mouth as it stretched to accommodate him.

He groaned as I took him all the way in, running my tongue up and down the underside of his dick rapidly. When I thought my mouth and throat had gotten used to him, I began to bob my head, letting him nearly gag me before pulling back and repeating the process. I glanced upward and locked eyes with him, raising one eyebrow in self-satisfied success.

Despite himself he reacted, grimacing and groaning in delight, "Fuck! Oh fuck, you weren't lying though, were you? You definitely wanted this cock. And you definitely know what you are doing with it, don't you my little teacher's pet?"

I nodded, widening my eyes to convey my unbounded enthusiasm for his member.

He continued, "Mmm...feel so good. Love to see those bright red lips wrapped around me. You're right, though, girl...you are too good to keep to myself. After I finish with you, I'm going to turn you out to all my friends. See if what can't use up your pretty cocksucking mouth? Would you like that? Would you like to be our little toy?"

The idea turned me on incredibly. I had a vivid image of myself, naked, hair tangled and snarled, on my hands and knees, surrounded by men. They used my mouth one after another, depositing their seed on my tongue, on my cheeks, in my eyes...wherever they wanted. And I took it and moved on to the next. I was like an addict, high as a kite on cum, but chasing my next hit so I'd never come down. I wanted to be Mark and his friends little fucktoy. I wanted to be anyone's fucktoy.

Immediately after The Freedom's dark whispers convinced me that I wanted and had always wanted to be treated like a human blowup doll, it fed me another, seemingly contrary, thought: Bite him. I ignored it at first. I was enjoying the feeling of him sliding past my lips, over my tongue, and just slightly down my throat before retreating and then repeating. Again, The Freedom battered my resistance. I held off for three more thrusts before it became too much. It was an order I could not turn down. So I did not.

After I took him deep enough I was almost kissing his waist, I pulled my lips back and pushed my teeth into his skin.

He grunted, "Oh, not too much though. A little's okay, but not—"

Before he finished, I held back, quickly, dragging the teeth hard from the base of his shaft all the way up and over his head.

He screamed and back handed me in a mix of rage and fear. As always with The Freedom, the pain signals were rapidly rerouted to become pleasure and any injuries I could have caused were erased. But he knew what I had done and he was angry.

I theatrically rubbed my cheek and looked up at him haughtily, "I told you, I'm nobody's whore."

He did not reply, simply grabbed me by the hair and threw me across a lab tabletop. I clattered to the floor, a few metal trays and test tube racks coming with me.

I shakily tried to get on my feet but before I could right myself, he grabbed me and pinned me against a glass cabinet. One hand gripped my throat, his other grabbed my shirt and tore it open. I moaned as best as I could with my restricted airflow and attempted to grind against him.

"Unbelievable," he observed, his arousal betraying his try at a contemptuous tone, "I hit you, throw you across the room, and you still want to fuck?"

I nodded, licking my lips, and reaching for his cock with you one hand. As soon as I made contact, his grip on my throat weakened, I could feel his knees become wobbly.

"Looks like someone feels exactly the same way," I purred, stroking his still rock hard shaft.

His moaned his confirmation, "So fucking hot."

"Thank you," I replied as he hand falls away from my throat. I angled him against the cabinet. He closed his eyes and sighed hard. Seized by yet another Freedom fueled moment of inspiration, I grabbed a beaker and smash it against his face. It shattered, shards of glass tumbling around us.