tagGroup SexChristian College Sex Comedy Ch. 28

Christian College Sex Comedy Ch. 28


*Earned leadership is a blessing; assigned leadership is a burden*

(Frontma: bringing lines to life)

(Yes, this tale is supposed to be somewhat humorous and outrageous too. While not always comedic I'd like to think it is mostly a good-natured romp.)


It started at 6:45 as we began filing out of the dorm toward the dining hall and breakfast. We received texts, or our dorm mothers received them if we didn't have that function, assigning us a tribe we belonged to. What was a tribe? No one seemed to have a clue what this entailed for us.

"So," Iona was the first to ask me, "What tribe are you part of?"

"My tribe's called the Mediator tribe," I responded. "What lame-ass name does your tribe have?" Iona blinked at me, took my phone from my hands, and looked at it while we walked.

"Mercy and I are in 17," Rio sneered. "Why did your group merit a name and ours didn't?"

"Because Zane doesn't have a tribe," Iona figured. "He is not of the mediator tribe; he's a mediator. The real question is, how many mediators are there and what is their responsibility?"

"I'm in tribe three," Vivian volunteered. "I do have a notation but no indication who to see about it." The conversations around us were going in the same general direction, the girls trying to figure what sort of disruptions this would cause. The teachers put a kibosh on students walking around and finding out where their friends were placed so the text and phone messages being tossed around were obscene.

The surprise going to breakfast had saved virtually all of the freshmen from Handmaiden's Duty but they snapped us up heading for Assembly. I had Frederica Nicholas who decided to make a game of her giving me a word and me having to create a poetic verse. I rapidly learned the more risqué my verse, the more touchy-feely she became. (And she is a Rhaine supporter, huh?) I am a glutton for sexual foreplay no matter where it comes from.

Entry into the Assembly Hall brought its own special form of confusion. All the seats had numbers for the tribes that could sit there. I didn't find my group anywhere but I did catch the fact that Christina's group had been broken up. I stopped by Heaven to put a comforting hand on her shoulder because she looked terribly unsettled before I approached Ms. Goodswell on the stage.

My spiritual advisor stood up, walked to the edge of the stage, and knelt down so we could talk privately.

"Hi, Teach. I can't seem to find my groups/tribe's area," I said pleasantly. "Can you help me out? Hell, can you tell me what's going on?"

"Zane, your seat is right over there," she said, pointing to a chair on the front row – aisle seat. She smiled sadly. "All I can tell you about this program right now is that I trust you." Oh crap, that didn't sound good. Sitting on the front row – the region normally reserved for seniors – was just as disturbing. I sensed an epic boning in my future and I was sure I knew who the chick with the strap-on was.

Chancellor Bass came to the podium and led us through the first ten minutes of the session. I could tell she was simmering with anger and resentment over whatever the upcoming fiasco was, and she showed it. She introduced Vice Chancellor Scarlett, then sat down abruptly. Her enthusiasm wasn't muted; it was buried in the core of the earth.

"Greetings, students of Freedom Fellowship University; I believe we stand at the first step to a great, glorious, and blessed experiment," Vice Chancellor Dr. Victoria Scarlett began. Her plan did sound grandiose, was certainly going to be famous (or infamous), and whichever supernatural powers put their mark on this train wreck, I was sure we'd discover the Arch-angel Morningstar also had his sulfuric fingerprints on it when the CSI's were finally brought in.

The basics of the scheme: There would be eighteen tribes of fifty or more members. Each tribe had all four grades in it but was focused on declared majors so that the girls could support one another. Each tribe would internally determine how they would regulate themselves as well. Externally, relations would be overseen by the Mediator – yes, that was in the singular – as in one: me.

At this point, I was wondering if jumping up, shooting Scarlett in the heart, and crying 'Sic semper tyrannis' was appropriate. I didn't have a gun and realistically, Victoria didn't deserve death for what she was putting all of us through. A few days in a pillory would suffice. No, she was making me be the 'Man' of our academic community, our judge and arbitrator.

As for my job qualifications, or lack thereof; I am considered morally loose, if not downright deviant. I'm an eighteen-year-old boy telling twenty-one-year-old women what to do, I have no legal experience – oh, yes, and half the campus hates my guts. I almost missed it when Dr. Scarlett added that Vivian would remain my guardian.

Maybe Vivian would throw herself in the path of a sharpened pencil, pen, or stylus aimed at my heart by any number of the young ladies that wanted me dead, just like a Secret Service Agent.

"You will be informed of the location of your first meetings. Each tribe will meet at eight o'clock tonight and tomorrow night to create the foundations of your group," Dr. Scarlett informed us.

"Tribes five and seventeen will be meeting in the Solarium of Alan Smithee dorm, if that is okay with Mr. Braxton." Victoria looked my way. I stood up in case anyone missed my discomfort for being called out and actually asked by a lead educator for anything resembling permission on this campus.

"Eight o'clock tonight?" I questioned. "I don't know if that works for me. I have a Brazilian body wax at eight and have scheduled my eyebrows to be plucked at 8:45, plus there is a new episode of NCIS: Los Angeles at nine."

"How about they promise to keep the noise level down?" Victoria volleyed right back at me without missing a beat.

"Very well, Dr. Scarlett, if you personally guarantee their behavior, I'm okay with them using my room," I allowed. I couldn't provoke Scarlett and I couldn't embarrass her, so I was back to facing her rear-bound artificial cock catching up with my behind. I sat back down. Victoria quickly exited center stage and a bitter Chancellor ushered us through the last of the service.

I waited outside the Assembly Hall for my friends and my Handmaiden for the moment, Theresa Yates. Christina and Chastity caught up with me first, both giving me a curious look.

"Bro," Rio sneered as she and Mercy joined us, "we need to discuss your future abuse of power, bribes and kick-backs you are going to get. Nice banter with ol' Scarlett too."

"Yes," Christina said sarcastically, "being flippant with the Vice Chancellor backfired so spectacularly the first time, it definitely needed repeating." Her criticism really sucked because I always secretly wanted her to think well of me.

"What's your plan?" Chastity prodded me. She was always helping me out when she got the chance. As she finished, Iona, Hope, Faith, and Heaven showed up.

"They split us up," growled Heaven. "Do something, Zane."

"He just found out about this," Iona responded before I could. "Give it time and combined, we will come up with a solution together." I sighed with some relief at her assistance and then I blinked. The powerful kiss I planted on Iona's lips caught everyone off-guard.

"Freaking brilliant!" I complimented her gaily, giddy with glee. I didn't have an actual plan yet but I had a direction to propel my thought toward. With my mind awhirl, I caught sight of Theresa moving past me on her way to class.

"Hey, Theresa," I called out. "What are you having me do today?" She looked a bit shocked.

"Zane, we are no longer allowed to call on you for Handmaiden's Duty," she informed me.

"Oh, He...ck no," I choked out. "Who says?"

"The Vice-Chancellor declared you to be outside the tradition," she stated sadly. I wasn't going to stand for this. Victoria was building a wedge between me and the rest of the student body.

"Iona, do that tech-thing that you do and inform the ladies that by the authority vested in me as mediator, I am reinstating myself as part of the Handmaiden's duty until...over half of the tribal leaders petition that I do otherwise," I announced.

"By tech-thing, do you mean send a text message with an accompanying e-mail to all the students on the school registry?" Iona regarded me quizzically.

"Zane," Chastity worried, "are you sure you have the authority?"

"Of course he has the authority," Rio declared. "He's the freaking mediator." Sometimes I would really like to get a word in before the conversation runs away from me.

I swatted Iona on the butt – she squawked.

"Chastity, this is clearly a game of chicken, so why not see how far Scarlett is willing to go," I replied. The look Christina gave me restored my faith in me; her eyes beamed at me, alight with an intellectual fire. I had one last thing to do while the chaos boiled one last time before the ebb: I hugged Rio.

"I want you to break into Gabrielle's place," I whispered in her ear, "wait for her to come get you, and tell her this: There is no Cordelia Dresden."

"Back off, Joker," Rio punched me. Rio trusted me not to put her in harm's way if I had another choice and Gabrielle knew that Rio would be the last person any sane individual would trust to do this.

She gave no hint of a reply to my request. The assumption was, if Cordelia didn't know what we were up to, she couldn't figure out a way to stop us, and right now I wanted a way for us out of her little game here at FFU. My current theory was that the girl I knew as Cordelia didn't exist before she came here, she was an invented personality, and I wanted to know who the inventor was.

Oh yeah, back to my actual life where my academic and social lives were in upheaval because my current nemesis (or one of them anyway) was a crusading idealist. I swear to God, if I survive this place, I will never forgive Aunt Jill for not sending me to the University of Hawaii, which was my first choice for college. All I had to worry about there was hurricanes, tsunamis, volcanoes, and the wrath of the island spirits for despoiling virgins – simple shit.

"Zane, you will discuss the merits and sins of the concubines of King Solomon with me," Theresa said, as she passed me her backpack to carry. Life rolled back to semi-normal and we separated to make our way to our first classes of the day. That illusion took another ill turn when I entered English class with Ms. Goodswell. She gestured for me to come to her desk before the lesson began.

"Zane," she informed me softly, "none of the female teachers or administrators at this school can give you orders, only suggestions. Only Dr. Jennings may truly compel you to do anything."

This bombshell was the reason she said she trusted me back in Assembly. The only one making me do the right thing was me. I had never considered me Mr. Responsibility before so I was in for a crash course in having authority over 900 students and 100 teachers. I told Virginia Goodswell about my decision concerning my Handmaiden's Duty to get her input, then compelled her to treat me as any other student – because apparently, I'm in charge of students now.

"There are old soldiers and there are bold soldiers, but there are very few old, bold soldiers," she reminded me. "Never forget, no matter how dark it may seem, Zane, you are never alone."

"I could always use a picture of you in a white, low-cut bikini to inspire me," I hinted.

"Mr. Braxton, by the authority vested in me by the mediator, I order you to take your seat so we can begin classes," she smirked. Oh, the irony: stymied by my own hubris.

Celia Wanamaker snapped me up coming out of English class. Vivian was waiting for me and Raven was in tow – right up until Paige snapped her up. Celia had me name a biblical character for each letter of the alphabet. Paige had Raven quote bible verses – backwards. As if there was any doubt my day could get worse, it did so immediately.

"Oh, the great Priest-King approaches!" screeched Rio on seeing me. "We all must genuflect – that's kneel down until your head touches the ground for you stupid bitches – until the Mediator passes." The horrible, horrible thing was that dozens of confused girls started doing just that.

"Hold on," I held up my hands for attention, "Hold on. Rio is mistaken. Genuflecting is only done during the Holy Days of Christmas, Good Friday, and Easter."

Okay, I made that up off the fly and I figured that I wouldn't be at school for Christmas, and Good Friday and Easter were next year and I'd worry about that then. For now:

"Emily, Rebecca, Henrietta, and Magdalena, please carry Rio to her next class – by the legs and arms," I instructed some of the closest students. "If a door or other object gets in the way, don't hesitate to use her head as a battering ram."

"Damn, Bro, that's harsh," Rio giggled from the floor. I knelt beside her.

"Yeah," I whispered, "like being man-handled by four girls isn't going to turn you on."

"Don't tell them that," she whispered back. I rose and continued on to class. A wiggling, squirming, cursing, and fighting Rio followed us.

I went through the same rigmarole in Biblical Archeology. I told the teacher that using my authority over students, I was instructing her to instruct me as if I was any other student...because I was a student and this was the area of my authority; right? She bought into my reasoning with some relief.

"How was it?" I mouthed to Rio once class was well on the way.

"Two hands all the way up the thigh – one knows I forgot my undies and was thoroughly soaked – two titties grabbed," Rio described what she'd been subjected to, "and I got to bite Magdalena's butt. I love those soccer player asses. You are most likely the best friend I will ever know; thank you."

"Always willing to help a fellow pervert out," I grinned back. Rio winked, then returned to work. I needed all the humor I could get because it was going to be a long damn day. By the time I made Marksmanship at three o'clock, I was damn happy to shoot something. I got some relief by having my best day ever, scoring a 53 (out of a possible 100) at the range. When I finished, I noticed a large number of my club mates standing close by.


"Yes?" I questioned the ladies clustered behind me at the firing line.

"Oh, we are huddling behind your manliness," Daphne, one of the better shooters, joked.

"Manliness? Daphne, you just shot an 87. Hell, if you ladies want to be safe, stand in front of me, because apparently that's the one place my bullets don't go," I chided her.

That was a slight exaggeration. I was a pretty good shot out to 50 meters, but when I have to use binoculars to even see the target some of these girls are nailing, I know I have a long way to go.

"Zane, police your station," Hope instructed me. "Everyone, it is time for field training." This was the other part of marksmanship...sneaking around and spotting targets in the woods. We didn't use live rounds but it was still fun stuff.

"Gung-ho!" I responded to Hope. I'd heard that this was the battle cry of an Asian-American unit in World War II; Japanese I think.

"I'm Korean, Zane," Hope tried not to chuckle. "We are not exactly friends with the Japanese."

"If I stop saying it will you ask your Daddy not to come?" I inquired hopefully.

"If you keep saying it, I'll stop telling my Father I can't live without you," she countered.

"You can't live without me?" I questioned.

"Of course I can live without you, but I had to think of something to stop him from parachuting here in the dead of night and slitting your throat," she confided.

"You are joking; right?" I worried. Hope was nonresponsive as we got our gear together for the hike. "Hope, tell me that was a joke." Once we passed into the forest, Hope was quiet, business-like and nothing but. We were a mile into our trek when Hope settled down to study the environs. Per procedure, Hope watched to her front and left; I crouched at her back, facing away, and watched to our rear and Hope's right.

We would stay this way until Hope set up on the target, which was when I became her spotter. Since we weren't there yet, I scanned my area one more time, then cupped my right hand and reached behind me until I touched Hope's ass. I waited for a reaction of any kind but none came. Three seconds later I began to gently coast along her posterior, lightly squeezing her buttocks and rubbing along her cleft.

With a careful ear, I caught Hope's breath gaining in intensity. A few seconds later, she reached back and tapped my arm lightly so I stopped. Hope then rose carefully and we continued on our way. During the entire encounter, neither one of us had deviated from our watchfulness, which gave the whole situation a greater erotic appeal for me.

"Zane," Hope caught my attention as the last rifle and bullet was secured away, "I really wasn't sure how you would deal with me...being better than you. How do you do it?"

"All the training and skill in the world isn't worth a damn if you won't fight," I tried to explain. "A willingness to fight without talent is a waste. Hope, you didn't defeat me; you beat me."

She seemed to be searching for my definition of those two terms.

"Let's walk over to Orienteering before Heaven pops," I suggested. "We can both pin Heaven down but short of killing her, I'm not sure how to stop her." Hope chuckled at that assessment and nodded. "Hope, you put me on the mat and made me tap out – you beat me. You haven't discouraged me from coming at you when I feel I'm more capable – you haven't defeated me."

"Beating implies physical dominance but defeat is a state of mind," Hope replied as she stripped my definitions bare. I swung back my hand to spank her ass. Hope flinched slightly as instinct recognized the incoming blow and dictated a menu of responses, most of which involved causing me pain. I spanked her left ass cheek; Hope yelped and glared over her shoulder at me in feigned annoyance.

"You are a very verbose wench," I shook my finger at her.

"Do you want them to perform an extensive autopsy to figure out where I stuck that finger or are you going to remove it from my face right now?" she challenged me mirthfully. I stepped to her side, draped an arm around her waist; a second later she hesitantly echoed the gesture.

When we got to Orienteering, Hope and I parted company and I joined my fellow students as Heaven stood before us. The silence dragged on...and on until I finally felt compelled to raise my hand.

"Yes, Zane?" Heaven asked sweetly. You know; that 'sweetly' that says, I have an iron skillet to the head in my immediate future.

"Class? Are we going to have class today? Please?" I mumbled.

"I don't know, Zane," Heaven glared at me with a vicious smile stitched to her face. "Do we have your permission to have class today? Apparently we need to." Oh, fuck-buckets; Hope had probably had the same instructions and blown them off; Heaven was going a different way.

"I understand," I announced with dignity as I stood and walked up beside Heaven before facing the rest of the class. "As your appointed mediator, I think we should come forth and pray on the matter. All of you come to the front and kneel in a semi-circle; you too Heaven." I put a hand on her shoulder and put pressure on her to kneel beside me – right beside me.

The girls gathered around, Heaven was on her knees only inches from my crotch with her eyes flickering from my hard cock (I'm giving strong consideration to slamming that bastard in the middle of the US Tax Code to make it calm down) to my eyes. Soon I was in the center of a waist-level sea of slightly swaying female heads.

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