College Chronicles Ep. 15 Pt. 02

I knew she was faking, she just had to be. Who called people 'stud'? But somehow she delivered it so naturally, so believably... I had a hard time reassuring myself. Max could hardly believe his luck, obviously didn't trust himself to respond, just nodded dumbly and stood in place. He only remembered to move when Cindy gestured impatiently.

"Come on!"

"Fuck-- uhhh yeah, follow me... Follow daddy, girls..."

He tried to act like he hadn't been caught stunned stupid, affecting a superior tone and a smirk that almost made me throw up in my mouth. How dare he try to look like that. What was she thinking?? He wasn't daddy. My daddy would beat the shit out of Max. Beat the shit out of him at LEAST. For a second my drunk mine wandered; what was Jaxx doing at that moment? Who was he fucking or tormenting or both? How small were the chances that he had thought about me, even for a second?

I was shaken from musing by Cindy's tug on my hand. She was pulling me forward through the party, following Max's over exaggerated swaggering, which didn't clear a path half as effectively as Cindy. I took advantage of the slow progress to clutch her close and hiss into an ear, trying to be heard over the party, but not by Max.

"Cin--... Jess... What the FUCK?"

I had more to say; I didn't think he was cute, didn't want to go to his room, didn't think it was safe, didn't know what she was doing, and on and on and on... But I hoped that 'what the fuck' and my urgent, nearly tearful voice would make those misgivings clear.

She turned, and my fears faded like shadows before afternoon sun. It was the bright smile that shone out from under her mask, the brilliant green wild fire of her eyes, the serenity she radiated as an aura. One gentle hand grabbed a shoulder, pulled me in closer. The other hand grabbed one of mine, and squeezed, underlining intense eye contact. I took a deep breath, inhaling all I could of her. When she spoke, I was already feeling better, more willing.

"TRUST me."

I couldn't see it yet, but she had something planned, I knew from the clever sparkle in her eyes. She wouldn't make me do anything with Max. Cindy liked to fuck with me, but she didn't want me to suffer. She hated him sympathetically from my stories and remembered misery, and she knew the special torment he'd delivered to basically ruin my life.

I had no idea she was going to try to ruin his, in revenge.

Then she turned, and had us again threading through the dense crowd. I almost lost my grip on her hand, tugged by the flow of a people so far gone under the influence of the deep bass beat and all manner of substances. The air inside the house was hazier than before, thick with smoke. For a moment, I wondered how he was going to explain the lingering smells to his parents. But I didn't care; in fact, I hoped his whole house was ruined.

We'd fallen a little bit behind, but made good progress, taking advantage of the gaps that formed naturally from stunned admirers. As I followed in Cin's footsteps, it struck me again that her admirers became mine, watching my progress with slack jaws, their eyes stroking my exposed skin. I flushed red under the attention, embarrassed and flattered and scared and aroused, hurrying to keep up with her pace.

Finally we stepped onto the staircase I'd already climbed multiple times that night. Cindy led still, weaving carefully around a few dazed stoners, then stepping over a nearly prone couple who looked like they needed to get a room, quick. Above and before us, half obscured by smoke like a spectre of my past, I spotted Max.

He was waiting at the top, and when we reached him an obnoxiously grandiose arm stretched out to usher us down the hallway. It was a familiar path; down a side hallway, into the first open bedroom. Before he even flipped the lights on, I recognized it as the same room I'd blown Jake and Pete in. Talk about coincidence.

I looked around the room for the first time as he shut the door, kicking myself for not even peeking earlier. It was so obvious; posters of sports stars and centerfolds on the walls, some sports memorabilia as well, and discarded dirty clothing all over the floor. It made me feel strange, as if he was, in a deranged, fated way, important to me.

Then Cindy pulled me close, nuzzling, kissing my neck, whispering in my ear.

"Follow my lead. And TRUST me!"

She didn't have time to say more, pulled back with a meaningful look at Max turned his attention to us.

"So uh, what--"

She wouldn't let him have control, and promptly seized control of the room, pulling her mask off her face with a flourish.

"Is this your bed?"

She fell backwards onto his mattress, raising her legs into the air so her dress hiked up to reveal her panties. It was an obvious question; who else's could it have been? But Max was gone as soon as he had a look at her exposed legs, what little rational thought he had shutting down, and lizard brain taking over.

"Uhhh... Yeah..."

He was so dumb, frozen, watching. I wasn't much better, just as awkward, just as entranced. But Cindy's focus was on him, and she righted herself effortlessly, patting the covers to one side.

"Sit, I won't bite!"

Her words said one thing, and her expression another. But Max was too unfamiliar, too dumb to realize Cindy's malintent. He stumbled over to her like a drunken fly drawn to a pitcher trap, collapsing onto the bed, taking the initiative to begin to touch her, a hand around her shoulders, another on her thigh, which she tolerated. I was just standing awkwardly in the center of the room, still unsure how I figured in to whatever plan Cindy was unfurling. As if on cue, she brought me back in.

"My girlfriend is soo hot, right?!"

She hadn't reacted to his wandering hands, was giving me an evil smile as she stared from the bed. She had aloof goddess energy, and her gaze carried an electrical current; I stayed locked on to her as his stupid mouth opened.

"Oh, yeah, really hot."

"Hotter than me??"

She turned with sudden insult, and I couldn't hide a smile at her games, much more fun from the outside than as target. While I knew it was feigned, Max took her seriously and panicked.

"Uhhh, I, well, I--"

"--Just kidding. Re-laaax..."

She laid a calming hand on his arm, but her eyes still didn't leave mine. I actually liked her rapt attention; it made me feel like what she was doing was more about me then about him.

"...What do you like most about her?"

Drunk, high, and just past his scare of offending her, Max was slow to comprehend.

"Uhh... Most??"

"Like, what's your favorite part of her? I love those big brown puppy eyes... But maybe you like her hair, or her legs, or that tight little butt..."

She stared the entire time, listing her favorite parts of my body, and I finally had to look away, too embarrassed by her attention, the complimentary accounting of my physical characteristics. Even that reminded Cindy of another way I appealed.

"Oh, those cheeks! She blushes so pretty, right? Come on baby, spin."

Her voice was genuine enough, through the performance, that it took the edge off any humiliation. A smile bubbled onto my face as I rotated slowly; it wiped off the instant I finished the turn and met Max's eyes, staring lasciviously at my chest.

"Yeah... I like her tits..."

I was shocked by that, my mouth falling open. With the changes Cindy's had made in me through pills and workouts, I'd shed most of the shame complexes about my body. The embarrassment she played with was more an attempt at being humble about my obvious attractiveness.

But the one place where my shame persisted was my chest; I was so flat, constantly comparing myself to Cindy and Natalie and Aurora and Bianca. It was a lingering reminder of my insufficiency, my inauthenticity. The idea that a boy (even Max) would choose them was... surprising.

Cindy, deeply acquainted with my insecurities, had noticed his choice too. She raised her eyebrows at me, a mock look of surprise, with a hint of 'I told you so.'

"Good boy! She doesn't like them, tell her she's wrong!"

For once that night, Max had a quick follow up. I guess my tits motivated speech.

"Why?! They're perfect, really good, not too big. I like them a little small... Just... Perfect..."

I blushed again, even redder than before. I couldn't believe anyone would call my little chest 'perfect'. Cindy was loving it.

"Awwww!"

My eyes found hers again; unrelenting but good natured, a sense of humour with a barbed edge. It wasn't exactly cute, having a horny guy call your tits perfect, but she didn't give me time to comment.

"Max is being so nice, why don't you dance for him, baby?"

I froze at the sudden instruction, not sure of what she meant. I didn't want to get closer, didn't want to dance for him.

"Uhm... I... But--"

"--Go ahead! Dance!"

She shouted, and impatience in her voice jolted me into action, sending my hips swaying, one hand playing at the bottom of my dress, the other ruffling my hair. Cindy's training had settled deep; even if I didn't want to, I knew how to play the game when told. I focused on the music, the bass I could just barely feel through the floor, finding the beat and matching it with my body.

From the bed, Max was watching intently, nearly drooling. He watched my legs and skirt, as if hoping each time I pulled that I might lift it a little higher. It was Cindy's turn to use her hands, stroking his chest and leg with seductive restraint, compounding the sensuality of my performance.

"She's a little shy... When she was in high school... She got bullied really, really bad..."

I was glad to be turned around when she said that, unable to hide my dismay. I hadn't her expected to tell any sort of truth, even heavily obscured. What if he put two and two together?

But I didn't need to worry. There was a crash from downstairs, muffled but unmistakeable, even under the music. At least to me-- Max seemed not to have heard it at all. In fact, Cindy's words barely registered.

"Oh... That's... Shame..."

He muttered under his breath, unable to focus on anything but me. But not my face. What a fucking scumbag. Cindy went on, and I spun around so I could hide my contempt.

"You were, like, cool in high school, right? Did you bully anyone?"

That made Max snort with laughter, and I seethed. Fuck him. I didn't stop dancing, if anything went harder, closing my eyes and really focused on a song I recognized even muffled through a wall.

"You didn't go to 'field. Who've you been talking to?"

The question had woken him up a little, on the verge of suspicious. That made me a little worried; Max might not have been the biggest guy, but he was more than enough to handle me, and probably Cindy. I hoped she knew what she was doing.

"You knoww, word gets around. But, like, if I'm honest... It's kind of hot... Imposing your will on someone like that..."

I really hoped she was still acting; the way she lingered on each word, leaned forward into him, hushed her tone like a guilty secret. It all looked and sounded and felt a little too real. Especially considering how much she got off on imposing her will on me.

"...Who did YOU bully? I want to hear everything."

"You're kinda crazy, huh?..."

Max gave her a tone of condescension as flattery worked its magic, and erased suspicion. Any sympathy for his ignorance that had been creeping into my mind was swept away in the disdain that flooded me. Cindy managed to hold a straight face, though I hoped she felt the same way.

"... Alright, yeah. There was this kid..."

As he began to speak, she took his chin in her hand and turned him back, so he was facing me. They watched as I danced, her hands stroking his chest, his hands wandering further up her leg.

"...Sam."

I almost shit myself when he said my name and looked me dead in the eyes, even though I knew the context. For a split second it wasn't a fear, it was reality; he knew. Then his eyes wandered back down me as he kept speaking, and the certainty receded back to a niggling splinter of fear.

"He was such a little bitch. Did all kinds of shit to him. Fuckin'... snapped towels, flipped his bag. Fucking stuffed him in a locker once! That shit was too funny..."

Cindy chuckled lightly, and didn't look at me. Max was still watching, but my dancing was becoming half-hearted, repeating moves more frequently. It was partly the muffled music, and mostly my dwindling patience. I needed Cindy to do something; I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep it up.

"Oh my godd, that's so bad... Why?"

"Why...?"

He was still watching me, unaware of my vanishing enthusiasm. His response was as if he'd never even considered there would be a reason for making my life hell.

"Like, why do all that? What did he do?"

Max snorted another ugly laugh, unknowingly drinking me in greedily as he dismissed the old me with cruel insults.

"Why fucking not? He was fucking annoying. So pathetic, sitting by himself, friends with all the teachers. He was always asking for it, doing faggy nerd shit."

As he spoke, he became more agitated, and ended with an impatient wave of his arms, standing up from the bed.

"Why are we talking about this?! Are you gonna suck my fucking dick or not?"

I stopped dancing when Max began to raise his voice, cringing away as he stood, even though he turned his back to me. Cindy didn't even look at him, just gave me a soft smile around his side which carried her words: 'trust me.' I hoped I could.

"Alright, don't get impatient. Sit down and take it out."

He stood for another second over her, implying vague threat. But Cindy wasn't cowed, didn't flinch, didn't break first. When he sat down, he was fumbling at his belt, undoing his fly. He wasn't exactly coordinated that late in the party, and slowed himself more when he looked at Cindy, then over to me, frozen awkwardly where I had been dancing.

"What's wrong with her? She gonna watch?"

"Don't worry about her. Just get your cock out."

There was an edge of impatience to Cindy's voice-- or maybe something more. I hoped it was something more; I really didn't want to see Max's cock. Or do anything else to it.

Then he pushed his pelvis up, lifting off the bed, and slid down his jeans and briefs, revealing his tool as he stood again to remove his pants.

My first instinct was to laugh, which I stopped with a hand clapped over my mouth. I guess he might have been around average in size, but based off my experiences with Jaxx, Jae, Jake, and Pete, he was pathetically small. He was hard as possible, cock standing at 90 degrees from his pelvis, but his pubes were an unkempt frizzy mess that made him look even worse. And there was more to it than just size. Something about being there in his room, his shirt still on and pants and underwear around his ankles... I couldn't believe that small dick asshole had bullied me for four years.

Cindy was a better actress than me, reacting to the reveal with a low moan, like he was showing anything worth seeing.

"Oh, niice... Sit down, tough guy..."

She was doing her best seductive voice, so he was quick to follow instructions, sitting next to her as she shifted to kneeling on the bed. She leaned forward, as if bending over to blow him, and I could hear Max's intake of breath, unable to believe his luck.

And he shouldn't have.

All I saw at first was a flash, a glint of light reflecting off one of her hands as it flew up from her side to his crotch. Then the was a second gasp from him, of a different timbre.

"Fuck, ow... Woah, what the fuck?!"

Cindy had suddenly produced a knife, long and sleek and shiny, held at his groin just above where his pink head pocked out of dark hair. She was smiling at him, but her voice had an edge sharp as the one she held.

"Don't fucking move, or I'll cut your little dick off."

"Is that a knife?? What the fuck! You crazy bitch!"

Cindy tutted, and moved her hand slightly; Max's eyes widened, and he whimpered, anger fleeing in the way of fear.

"Call me crazy again, see what happens."

She paused, giving him a chance to seal his fate, and he listened well, shutting his mouth.

"Good boy. Don't fucking talk, just listen and you'll be fine. Put your hands behind your back."

I was shell-shocked, frozen across the room. What had happened? Cindy had pulled a knife? Had she cut him? Would she? Did I want her to? Everything had happened so quickly, and I could feel my body reacting, muscles tensing, waves of adrenaline releasing, sending my heart pounding and my vision a little wobbly. Or maybe that was the drinks. I had to fight the overwhelming, urgent desire to run; to sprint out the door and down the stairs and out the front door and just run all the way home. Only Cindy and Max would try to stop me, and they were both busy. I knew the way by now, three times up had burned it into my memory. No one else would know to stop me, and I could run straight down the stairs and out the front door, down the street, right back home. But what would I do once I got home? What would I do about Cindy?

"Riley!!"

Her voice broke me out of my wandering thoughts with a sudden joke. From her tone, it wasn't the first time she'd called my temporary name, but her kind smile forgave my slowness. She'd sat back on her knees, posture and expression strangely relaxed, considering she was holding a knife to the crotch of a boy sitting next to her.

"Come here, put these on him."

With her free hand, she tossed a jangling pair of handcuffs onto the bed. I don't know where they came from, or how Cindy fit so much extracurricular paraphernalia in such a small dress. Max reacted with fear at the sight.

"Oh fuck tha--"

"--Shut up."

She must have done something with the knife, because he went fully silent on command. I approached warily, edging around the outside of the room like I was stepping near the cage of a man-eating beast. Max's eyes were wide open and very red, his attention flitting between me and Cindy like a stuck rat, considering violence with its back to a wall.

"I have a theory."

Cindy spoke as I slowly drew close, taking his attention fully upon herself. She was so in control, her voice so assured it helped me keep a distant memory of calm.

"I think you bullied Sam because you hate yourself."

I winced as she said my name again, but luckily I was behind him at that point, gingerly stepping up to the edge of the bed opposite to the side he was on, taking the cuffs carefully in both hands. They were heavy; the real deal, no cheap Halloween shit. I had to lean across the bed to get to his arms, and when I made contact (with the cuffs, trying not to touch him at all) he jumped away suddenly, pulling away.

"Don't fucking tou--"

"--DON'T FUCKING MOVE."

Cindy barked with an iron I hadn't heard before, one that almost sent me scuttling away. He and I froze, almost. I watched the cuffs tremble in my hands, and his hands in the air had the same quiver. I guess we weren't so different after all.

"Put them down... Slow... And behind you... Good boy..."

He haltingly brought his hands down with her instructions, putting them behind his back again. I had to touch them to get the handcuffs on, and he jumped at the contact. His skin was hot and shivering. Strained, as if he was tensing every muscle in his body, biting down on his own teeth.

The cuffs closed with a hard metallic click; though even the sound put me on edge, I felt a little better with Max restrained. I took a few steps away, then the first deep breath of air since we had entered his room. Cindy continued where she'd left off.

"I'm not sure why you hate yourself... but I have guesses."

I backed away, unsure once more. Cindy was on her knees facing him again. As I circled back around the bed, I saw that she had switched hands, now held the knife to his neck. Her other hand was busy, tugging on his very average penis, drawing a low, begrudging moan from him.