Bound & Free Ch. 05

"Bitch, you give those back." he hissed as the commotion receded down the hall. "Or else."

"I'll leave them with the RA." Alice said, more firmly than she felt.

Alice was saved by the woman from earlier.

"Hank!" the girl screeched, stomping back toward them. "Tell my whore of a roommate you and I have something special!"

Hank looked back and forth between her and Alice. Go with the slut, she mentally recited. Leave now. Go away.

"Fine." Hank sighed, speaking to Alice. "Enjoy yourself, Alice. Go right in."

Then he left, curling one octopus arm around the first girl and flashing a clandestine hand signal to the other.

Alice stood there in the corridor for fully fifteen minutes, waiting to make sure he'd really gone.

What a complete scumbag. She'd have to report him, or something. Or at least tell Tristan. Right now, Alice had Hank's key, so she could lock the room's door behind her. He couldn't get back in. She'd be safe, if she was quick. But why risk it - maybe she should just leave? Now the threat had receded, her curiosity flared up again. She was so close to her objective she could taste it, those delicious secrets. Those puzzles weren't going away, but this opportunity would. Wasn't she just here to return Tristan's phone? Hell no. After that ordeal she would treat herself to some deep digging. Tristan owed it to her after what she'd endured getting here.

Her mind made up, she checked the hall again, her back against Tristan's door. With quick movements, Alice pushed the door open and ducked into the room. She quickly closed it behind her and locked it. She squinted in the sudden gloom. Seeing a heavy-looking suitcase nearby she dragged it in front of the door. Then and only then, Alice allowed herself to lean against the wall and breathe a sigh of relief. It wasn't a good barrier, but it would at least slow Hank down if he somehow managed to unlock the door without a key. Or indeed if Tristan was about to catch her. The risks she took to investigate things - crazy, absolutely insane. Think of it as training, she told herself. This was training for her dream, to work as an investigative reporter.

But why was it so dark in here? She could barely see anything in the murky half-light. She opened the curtain, flooding the room with the golden radiance of the sunset. Pretty, but it didn't really illuminate much, just added a romantic glow.

Tristan would never know she was here. Hank... Alice got the sense Hank would only tell Tristan about this if it suited him. Plus she trusted that Tristan would believe her rather than that slimy chameleon. Hank had let her into the room with no idea what she was there to do - not exactly a good roommate. Wait - she should have thought about it at the time, but why had he let her in here at all? If he was so selfish, what could his angle possibly be here? That was a problem to ponder over later, in safety.

There was one bed over that side of the room and one on this side. On the left, a desk piled high with junk, on the right a full make-up table with actual make-up. The latter had to be Hank's, she thought, moving in the opposite direction. Using her phone as a light, she inspected the mounds of boxes on Tristan's desk, prodding at a couple of interesting ones. Wait, was that a Halloween costume? She pulled it out of the stack, trying to avoid tipping everything else over. She almost dropped it - this thing was really heavy! She examined it in the dark as best she could. The thing clinked at she turned it. She winced at the sound, then laughed out loud. Why be quiet? She was alone in here.

The costume itself was both hard and soft, and there wasn't much of it. "Limited edition" the packaging proclaimed in bright letters. "Precise replica of the slave girl costume from Beaphix 5! Premium copper rings, 100% luxury silk cloth and leather. Real iron chain!". That's odd, she thought. It was super geeky, super inappropriate, and super interesting. This was a female ensemble. Tristan didn't get this for himself, and it was impossible to imagine that little miss perfect Stacy being caught dead in something like this, or anything to do with the words "slave girl". Was it for some other woman?

She wondered what the cool metal and soft leather would feel like on her skin. It looked about her size and... No. That would be so inappropriate, so risky. Should she risk it? Her heart beat faster. She wasn't the type of girl to dress up in a kinky outfit. She wasn't this slave girl, some mindless object. She tried to summon some righteous anger but failed. What if she could take it off whenever she wanted? Then... maybe she was just a little curious. But she would be the headstrong type, needing discipline. No - damn that Tristan, did he have to spank Stacy in front of her? It was stuck in her head now. That moment of shock, insult and envy. His hand on Stacy's perky ass. Don't think about it, this was all Tristan's fault. Alice had never really looked at a woman the way she was thinking of Stacy now. His fault. That sapphic kiss...

She shook her head to clear it. Anyway, this gorgeous copper color would complement her skin nicely. Alice bet she'd look amazing in the costume. No, she was putting her foot down. There was no way she would...

Alice unzipped her skirt and stepped out of her underwear. It would be visible underneath, ruin the outfit. It had to go. Her hands were steady, her mind a shocked observer in this. With quick, efficient movements she unbuttoned her blouse, took off her bra and relished the sudden freedom. She bared her body to the room. Alice imagined Tristan sitting there, she imagined bending over for him. No - bending over because he'd ordered her to. Of choosing to follow his commands. Then whatever happened wouldn't be her idea. She'd still be a nice girl.

She put the package on the ground and gently teased open the protective tape. Maybe she should have opened it before stripping off, she admonished herself. Careful! Almost ripped the case - gently does it. This felt like the times she'd raided her father's old porno collection - actual physical CD-ROMs. She'd 'research' a couple and put them back, carefully and precisely as they'd been. To see if she could. To take the risk. To get away with it. This was the same thrill. The same naughty feeling. The process was as exciting for her as actually watching the overacted scenes in the dirty movies.

She put on the tiny bra, the cold metal links causing goosebumps to break out all over her skin. Little leather squares covered her nipples. This looked... pretty good. Yeah, it suited her. Especially that copper. She was totally rocking this look. She put on the underwear. Who designed this stuff? This silk was almost completely see-through! She could see her pubic hair easily through this, she thought, blushing. Wait - there was something else in here, something chunky. It was a collar with a short metal chain attached. Maybe... no. She wasn't putting on a collar, what was she, a dog? She wrapped it around her fist. See, she held her own leash.

She bet she looked awesome. Pity she couldn't see it from any other angle than top-down. She needed a mirror - ah, the makeup desk should have one! She jogged over, the heavy chain in her hand. She heard the soft clink of the metal in her top. The cold unyielding rings of the bottoms dug slightly into her hips as she walked, warming slowly as her body conducted heat into it. There. Wait - who the hell was this bitch? This confident, bubbly, attractive woman? Where was the girl who'd been dumped so cruelly a few years ago, the one who'd still not gotten over it? Nowhere, that was where.

She treated her reflection to a cheeky grin. You know what would be a really dumb move? Really crazy, not something she would ever do? Well, her phone was right there. Alice wouldn't have done it, but this woman - she'd totally take a dumb selfie. The girl in the mirror was confident, she wouldn't even care about something like that. She was probably proud of her body. She heard the camera on her phone take a photo or two. Maybe a dozen. Definitely less than fifty. Right, that's quite enough of that.

What else was there around here for her to discover? She examined her surroundings, stretching out her senses. Feeling braver now, more empowered despite basically prancing about in someone else's room in a chainmail bikini. She'd never done anything like this before. It was thrilling. She was playing a part, it wasn't her. She could almost enjoy this without feeling guilty about enjoying it.

There was a distinctive masculine musk in the air, not unpleasant, not yet anyway, but it was something she couldn't identify. Like sweat and something else. Every time she tried to pin it down it escaped her, and... what was that noise? Like people talking at a distance. Wait, no, somebody was having sex! What fake moans though, she was really hamming it up. Like a pornstar.

How thin are these walls, she thought, looking up. Maybe if she could get closer. She could indulge her dirty little voyeuristic hobby here in private. She could risk just one second. Over here the sound was quieter for some reason. And it was louder over... There was another room in here! Of course there was, silly girl, these dorms had a bathroom just like hers. She saw a light creeping out from under a door the farthest corner from the entrance.

She crept closer to the source of noise and light, gripping the chain of her outfit like a useless shield. She suppressed her shudder of revulsion at the scary scene she imagined a boy's bathroom would contain. She had to do this. The truth needed to be known, at least by her. The door was open. She nudged it farther, gently increasing its aperture with her foot. Ever so gently. She didn't know why, there was no-one... Okay, okay, so she totally knew someone was here, and almost certainly who it was, but was trying hard not to think too much about it. She should change out of this copper lingerie first. Nope. She shouldn't be doing this at all. Nope again. She was on a journey of discovery after all and that meant - she pushed the door open farther - discovering!

Her heart froze. She'd found Tristan, exactly as she'd hoped to find him. Sorry, feared. From the doorway she could see everything. He was sitting on the closed toilet lid, with headphones on his head. His laptop was open, balancing precariously on the bathroom sink, and some porn was playing. Tristan moaned as she watched. Alice almost moaned too - in panic she crushed the absurd urge to echo him. Put both hands over her mouth. She tasted the iron chain of the collar. His messy hair was squashed down by the headphones, his oddly endearing features making a really interesting expression. And, oh yeah, Alice might have casually noticed that he wasn't wearing a single stitch of clothing.

Tristan was nude, marvelously nude. Alice observed he wasn't just tan on his extremities but all over, like a tall hot cup of light creamy coffee. Now she thought of it she did feel pretty thirsty, could definitely go for a cup or three. The sight of him flowed from her optic nerves into her eager memory like water into a thirsty plant. She definitely felt herself perk up. Seeing the secretive Tristan this exposed was quite a thrill. Her body began to heat.

His broad shoulders hunched forward, his collarbones right near the surface of his skin. His body was slim, with a thin layer of hair and just a little definition in his abs. His thighs were big, thick with muscle, probably wrapping around to a tight ass. His bicep was rising and receding as his arm... His arm was... very clearly moving up and down. Polishing something? She tried not to look between his legs. Come on girl, you know exactly what he's doing. That's disgusting! So gross! Just a little peek.

Peeking through her split fingers, she caught a quick glimpse of an angry pink head before it was covered by his fingers. There it was again. Gone. And there again. Wow, he was pumping it fast. Like a piston. Her hand was between her legs. Pressing into her. How had it gotten there?

Another improbable female cry from Tristan's headphones distracted her. She wanted to ask the woman to shut up. So inconsiderate. Couldn't she see Alice was VERY busy right now and needed to focus? She glanced at his screen. It was somehow more lurid here as she peeked through the open door. More obscene, more shocking. The background of the scene was a man's... part, long and girthy, and in the foreground were two women. One woman had the tip in her mouth, the other had her tongue on the shaft. To make matters worse, one woman had dark skin, the other light with blonde hair.

They were pornstars but it didn't take a genius to rename them, overlay a little fantasy. Tristan, Alice and Stacy. It wasn't even that farfetched. A threesome. Was this what he wanted? Was that it, after all that buildup? She was totally judging him right now. Get a more unique fetish, Tristan. How predictable. How cliche. How disgusting, how gratuitous, how... how wild. Weird, she meant weird.

Were... were those women wearing collars? Alice gaped, forgetting herself. The collar she was holding in her hand suddenly felt much heavier. She thought this thing had been a joke. Alice had never even imagined people did such things in real life. That was definitely a collar on both of their necks. It looked like the blonde also was wearing some kind of handcuffs. Or was it rope? She'd have to get closer to tell. Alice had already discovered far more than she'd expected. It was a new world. This was some really kinky shit, Tristan!

Just for a moment, Alice imagined being bound, but couldn't. It wasn't... she couldn't... Alice had only been with normal guys before! There wasn't any way a borderline innocent like her should even watch this filth, let alone participate in it. How did it even work? Just one more minute, she told herself.

Even as the real Alice watched, her pornstar doppelganger took a handful of Stacy's hair, dragging her mouth off of Tristan's cock. Video Alice spread her legs wide and forced Stacy's blonde head between them, and resumed sucking Tristan's penis herself. Yeah, you go girl. She was the star of the show. Virtual Stacy then started to lick Alice's pussy, a pink tongue connecting pale silver skin to rich coal ink. Exploring her cleft with big long strokes of her tongue. Alice's black skin contrasted heavily with her two whitish co-stars above and below her, and the camera took every possible opportunity to showcase the artful dissimilarity.

Was it getting warmer in here? The real Alice clenched her thighs together in sympathy. She could practically feel Stacy's tongue on her own pussy. It had been inside her mouth just this afternoon, so she knew its shape, its softness, its subtle movements. It was so easy to fantasize... Pervert. What are you doing Alice?! What are you thinking? Are you just going to stand there and watch Tristan enjoying his porno, like some voyeur? Get out of here! What will he think if he catches you snooping around? You'll wreck your chances with him, even if he is a kinky son of a bitch!

She tried to run away while still watching Tristan and holding her ensemble's heavy chain, and tripped. She stumbled back into the darkness of his room once, twice. She put her foot back down a third time, trying to find balance. To her dismay, it landed on a pile of his discarded clothing. She slipped, pitching forward, falling face first into his desk, scattering boxes like confetti.

"What the fuck was that?!" Tristan shouted.

Tristan burst out of the bathroom like he'd found a rattlesnake nesting in there.