Extraordinary Talent Pt. 04

(These events occur in a world where legalized, non-hereditary slavery is common-place for serious crime, unredeemed debt, or voluntary self-indenture. Eighteen years of age is the minimum for anyone in this world to be enslaved or be involved in slave business operations. This particular story focuses on the low end of coercion, primarily Femdom within the context of a voluntary personal services contract requiring a young man to serve a wealthy woman while they attend college together. If you object to the basic premises of this story, I recommend that you find something else to read. As always, this is strictly a FANTASY.)

(Matt Hewitt's Viewpoint)

I spent hours at the Golden Police Department that night in March of my sophomore year in engineering school. As I expected, the police were unhappy to find that I had used a baseball bat and handcuffs on the half-naked guy struggling in Theresa's bedroom. Things got better for me when an officer found a plastic bag, containing half a dozen unidentified pills, in Hank's pants pocket; lab analysis of both the pills and Terri's blood later established that it was GHB, a roofie drug, as I had feared.

I tried to tell the truth but not the whole truth: I was Ms. Thornton's roommate, employed by her father to be her tutor. I had entered our apartment and heard her protesting "No, No," and found this guy standing over her, dropping his pants, so I whacked him with a baseball bat and cuffed him, then alerted Ms. Thornton's security service. I insisted that I couldn't wait for the police to arrive, for fear he would rape her. When the detective asked me why I hit him with a bat, I just looked at him and replied, "Did you see the muscles on that guy?" I did NOT tell him that I'd considered shooting him with Terri's pistol instead.

Nor did I tell the police that, at the insistence of her father, I had signed a personal services contract. Under Texas law, this contract obligated me to act as if I were Terri's slave until we graduated. Colorado had never accepted the resumption of slavery in the United States, and any mention of my Free In Name Only (FINO) contract would have made the police even more suspicious. I also "forgot" to tell them that I had shadowed Terri and Hank because I feared exactly what had happened—THAT would have made me a stalker.

About two hours after I was taken to the police station (while EMS took Terri and Hank to the Denver Health Medical Center), a high-powered lawyer appeared, obviously sent by Terri's father, and I was sprung. The lawyer took me to the hospital, but because I was not a blood relative I couldn't see her or find out her condition. Fortunately, soon thereafter Mr. Thornton and his security chief, Hans, showed up, having taken the corporate jet from Texas. The oil baron was understandably focused on his daughter's health, but Hans took me aside and found out the story. Hans had always been critical of my clumsiness, but for once he approved of me.

Eventually, the physician briefed Thornton so that I could overhear—Terri was awake, still feeling sick, and asking for me. So her father insisted that I come with him to see her. Narcan and stomach pumping had brought Terri back to consciousness. She was very embarrassed once she realized that she had been drugged, and repeatedly told her dad that "Matt warned me, but I wouldn't listen." Between us, we finally calmed her down and assured her that no harm was done. She had to stay overnight for observation, and Hans arranged for a 24-hour security watch on her room. I heard him talking very quietly to Mr. Thornton about what I had done, and after that, I could do no wrong. Theresa's dad kept thanking me, and I kept repeating that I wished I had done a better job of heading off the situation—but he knew that my slave status prevented me from defying her. Meanwhile, a rape kit established what I had hoped, which was that Hank hadn't had a chance to penetrate her. Finally, about 3 a.m., I told the father, as respectfully as I could, that I was dead on my feet and needed to sleep. I don't really remember how I got back to the apartment—I think Hans drove me.

*****

The next day I showered and went back to the hospital, meeting the same police detective just coming out of Terri's room after getting her statement. The physician released her, and Mr. Thornton and Hans drove her home while I followed in her car, accompanied by the first of a series of armed security guys. Sunday, I gently asked Terri whether she was well enough to go to class the next day, at which point she suddenly perked up and shoed her father out, thanking him for everything and pretending she was fine. I knew better, and the 24-hour security guards shadowing her for the next ten days didn't improve her attitude. Finally, she had a long telephone conversation with her dad, obviously trying to convince him that she didn't need a guard. All I heard was "Who needs this when I've got Matt?" and I went away grinning to myself. The protective detail was withdrawn while we frantically tried to catch up on our studies—even 36 hours had left us struggling in class.

Hank pled guilty to possession and use of a controlled substance, which sent him to prison for several years. Mr. Thornton's lawyer reminded him to keep his mouth shut and stay away from Terri and me if he wanted to avoid attempted rape charges.

Physically, Theresa was safe. Psychologically, however, she had suffered a close call that made her leary of other guys. Once the guards were gone, I could resume my usual task of servicing her orally, which relieved some of her stress, but she was still under a lot of pressure from school.

I finally asked her to sit down and talk to me. No sense beating around the bush—I'd already had my face in it that day, anyway. "You probably don't want to hear this, Terri, but we need to talk about what's bugging you." She grimaced, but nodded for me to continue.

"On the one hand, you obviously don't want to go on a date for a while." Another rueful nod. "On the other, you're still wound too tight about school, and I'm afraid my 'Extraordinary Talent' [she always joked that cunnilingus, not tutoring, was what gave me that classification] isn't enough for you."

"Yeah, Matt. I can never thank you enough for looking out for me, and your tongue is fantastic, but . . ."

"Yeah, But," I agreed. I went off on a tangent. "Do you remember the day you took me to the Longhorn last year, and that slave wrangler, Florence, tried to convince you to milk me if I got uptight?" She giggled, for the first time in two weeks. "No, I don't want you to shove a vibrator up my behind, nor would I dare suggest doing something like that to you." I continued. "But, I think now you're the one who needs some kind of stress release. At the risk of getting my face slapped, can I suggest that you do what you did last August 20th?"

"What happened on August 20th?" She asked, looking blank, but then the coin dropped in her mind. That night, she had tied me blindfolded to the bed so that she and her two girlfriends, all somewhat drunk, could play with my body—what good is having a slave if you can't use him, right? I could see in her face, however, that up until now she'd thought I wasn't aware that she had ridden not just my tongue but my cock that night. "Crap!" she muttered. "I thought I got away with it, so both you and I got off without you knowing that I'd done you. If Daddy ever finds out that I screwed my FINO, we'll both be in a world of do-do."

"He's not going to hear it from me." I reassured her. "My point is—I know I'm not like the studs you usually date, but would you at least consider using me as your substitute, sort of like a living vibrator? I apologize for suggesting such a thing, but I really think it would help you. If you don't trust me, you can always tie me up, but I thought we both enjoyed it that night. OK—time for me to shut up. Are you mad at me?"

"Hell, no." She replied, with a tiny smile on her face. "You're the only guy I trust--you literally went to bat for me!" Another giggle. "I would LOVE to play with you in bed, but this can't change our relationship, and you sure as hell can't let anyone else know about it, got it?"

"Of course; if I told your father, guess who would end up being the scapegoat?" I decided to tell her the truth, again wrapped up in a humorous reference to my slave status. "Your slave would be honored beyond measure if you would use him for your pleasure—I live to serve you, Mistress."

She smiled, but was still serious. "That's the main reason I didn't want you to know about last August, so that if Daddy ever guessed, I could pretend you were just my victim. But for now, I think your proposal has some merit, Mr. Hewitt. Strip!"

(Theresa Thornton's viewpoint)

I guess I'd been dumb to worry about our friendship—I could see in his eyes that Matt had the hots for me, and now he'd actually VOLUNTEERED to have me mount him. After almost a year on his four-year FINO contract, he didn't hesitate a moment when I ordered him to disrobe. Meanwhile, I went into the bathroom and changed from my usual blouse and sweatpants (it was still winter outside, after all) to a babydoll nightie with no panties. When I emerged, he had just finished folding his own clothes, but stopped and stared at me.

"I did NOT expect you to see you dressed like that," he mumbled.

"Any objections?" I asked, grinning, as I released his chastity belt lock.

"Absolutely none, Ma'am! You look magnificent, as usual. Where do you want me?"

"On your back in the middle of the bed." As he complied, I tossed him a condom packet. "Put this on—I'm on the pill, but we don't want to take any chances."

"Just as well," he replied, with a sheepish smile. "Seeing you dressed like that, I need something to calm me down so I don't come too quickly."

"Why, thank you, kind sir."

There's something to be said for having authority over another person—without that confident familiarity, I would have dithered around. Now, however, I eagerly climbed up beside him, then swung my leg over his head, facing towards his feet, and told him "Get me ready, Matt." At the same time, I grasped his latex-coated prick. He was obviously telling the truth about being over-excited, since his cock was the proverbial iron rod. I tried to entertain him without bringing him prematurely, while his familiar tongue bathed my labia and clitoris.

"Ummm. Good boy!" I murmured, approvingly, but then felt embarrassed that I was still addressing him like a slave rather than a lover. After less than a minute of his oral efforts, I was so excited that I had to dismount and lie down beside him. Good thing I had brought a towel from the bathroom to wipe off his damp face. We were both breathing heavily when I leaned across and kissed him, softly. I'd hugged him and given him a few cheek kisses in the past, but this was the first time we really kissed—he was almost as good at that as he was at cunnilingus, and that's saying something!

He was still trying to figure out where my head was. "Are you OK, Terri?" At least he didn't call me "Mistress;" for once, I wanted this to be about us and not that fracking contract!

"Of course! I'm just giving you a few moments to cool down before I screw your brains out."

"It would be worth flunking out." He replied.

I impulsively kissed him again, then straddled his hips, reached for his shaft, and sat down hard, sheathing him inside of me. We both groaned, then simultaneously started pumping. After a few false starts, we quickly synchronized our movements. Damn! That felt marvelous—HE felt marvelous. I was enjoying the rhythm of going up, down, up, down, while his eyes seemed mesmerized by my thinly-veiled boobs, which were swaying gently along with my body motion.

After several minutes of heavy humping and even heavier breathing, he gasped out. "I really need to take a break or I'll come—can we stop?"

"Hell no!" I replied, equally breathless. "Fuck me, Matt—right now!" I tried to clamp down on his marvelous member, making a tight fit even tighter so I felt every millimeter of that oversized probe. A frantic 45 seconds later, he stiffened and convulsed—I was only a few seconds behind him, collapsing onto his chest with my face in his collar bone and my breasts pressed into him. He automatically wrapped his arms around me—that felt even better. Hmmm.

For a long while, there was only panting until our breathing slowly returned to normal. When I shifted my weight as if to dismount, his arms tightened to keep me there, and I happily cuddled into him. Eventually, we got up and, by unspoken agreement, went into the bathroom to shower together. In between some gentle kisses, Matt spent way too much time soaping and fondling my breasts and butt. Typical guy, but I couldn't help being flattered as he repeatedly mumbled about how sexy I looked and felt. He was by no means the first sex partner to talk like that, but this time the compliments were coming from my best friend who actually believed that I had a mind as well as a body. . .

Sigh. Time to return to reality. When we finished the shower, I wrapped my hair in a towel, put on a robe, and handed another robe to Matt. Then I led him to the little table in the apartment's kitchenette, and told him we needed to talk.

"The words that every guy dreads." He replied, with a thin smile. "But, I know you're right—we just went way outside the boundaries of friendship and slave contract. I don't know where we go from here, except that it's time for me to shut up and listen to my Mistress."

"I'm glad you see the problem," I replied, then paused to collect my thoughts. "Matt, that was the best sex I've ever had—I thought you were good with your mouth, but this was even better. And I want to do it all over again, that is, if you're interested?"

"Duh!" he replied. "I mean, Duh, Mistress—I've dreamed of something like this, but I thought the contract would prevent it even if you were interested."

"That's it in a nutshell," I replied, thinking his nuts in my shell. "You have a goofy grin on your face and you're looking at me as if you're worshipping a goddess." ["Exactly," he interjected.] "If Daddy or Hans or ANYONE saw us right now, it would be obvious what we've been doing. Besides, you look so preoccupied with me that you couldn't solve the simplest equation right now, and we can't afford to let up in class."

"Damn—you're right, as usual," Matt muttered.

"So, the only thing we can do is try to put the genie back into the bottle, or at least screw the top back on. And don't make any lame jokes about screwing, either—I'm serious. For the rest of the semester, not to mention the next three years of school, we SHOULD go back to the way we've been before—studying our brains out six and a half days a week, interrupted on Saturday nights by your tongue practice." I could see the disappointment and resignation on his face, so I held up a finger. "That's not enough for me, either. So, let's compromise—once a month at school, when I decide—not you, so you don't get the blame if this ever comes out—we'll spend an evening like we just did. When we're on internships or semester break, we won't mess around at all UNLESS Daddy's out of town and nobody else is around to notice, got it?"

He nodded, reluctantly.

"One other thing, Matt. I've seen the puppy-dog look you give me when you think I'm not watching, and now suddenly you look like the puppy who just got a juicy steak. REALLY suspicious, you know? Imagine what Hans would tell Daddy if he saw you right now. Yeah—game over; if you were LUCKY, you'd wake up at some engineering program in Tennessee the next day, and we wouldn't see each other until Daddy passed away. Besides, we don't need the other students gossiping about us."

Now he looked even more unhappy, but I went on. "To counteract that, near the end of every school term and maybe other times, I'm going to have to punish or humiliate you. Hard. And I guarantee that you WON'T like what I do, but that's the idea! It will put a temporary chill between the two of us to cover up our real feelings. I'd prefer to tell Daddy and Hans that you're sulking because I punished you, rather than have them suspect that you'd put something OTHER than your tongue into me."

"It seems pretty drastic, but I see your point, and of course the contract permits, maybe even requires, you to discipline me whenever you want." He conceded, then snickered. "Only trouble is, you might turn me into a masochist, when I start to associate you giving me a pain in the butt with us making love."

"I can guarantee you, it'll be a real pain in your butt. Now, come back to bed and snuggle with me; we'll return to the status quo tomorrow."

"Your wish is my command, Mistress."

*****

When Terri had promised to be a pain in my butt, she wasn't kidding. Not only at the end of every term, but usually after every infrequent night of passion, she reminded me who was in charge—and it both hurt and humiliated me. She came up with a number of variants over the next three years, but her favorite punishments included,

-Six of the best, whacking my ass with my own belt and leaving red marks and bruises (deliberately, I'm sure) that Daddy would see days later when he visited my suite at home. I was always uncomfortable sitting with her on the flight down to Bush International.

-Unlocking my chastity belt and then insisting that I kneel, naked, before her and jerk myself off until my cock was almost raw. The sight of her got me instantly hard, but it was really embarrassing to perform like a horny dog in front of the fully-clothed woman I loved.

-Milking me, as Florence the wrangler had suggested a year previously. In preparation for this, she would have me give myself an enema and then crouch on all fours while she tied my wrists to my knees, holding my face into the towel she had spread on her bed to protect the sheets. Then she would use rubber gloves, a large vibrator, and lots of lube to gently invade my rectum. Once she located my prostrate, she teased me until I discharged without any pleasure involved. The first time she did that, I thought that the dripping out of me must be blood, not jism. I had to get used to it.

-Most humiliating of all was when she acquired a "feeldoe"—a dildo that fit into her birth canal so that she could peg me without a strap-on harness. This knocked my head for a loop. I really WASN'T submissive, so being butt-fucked by my best friend was intensely humiliating. On the other hand, she was embracing me tightly, her magnificent boobs pressing into my back while her feeldoe lit up all the nerve endings in my anus. So I got an enormous hard-on and sometimes ejaculated, which only increased my sense of emasculation. Talk about being conflicted—I didn't know whether I was in lover's heaven or Femdom slave hell.

I don't want to give the impression that Terri was some kind of domme who enjoyed inventing new ways to torment me, even though she did seem to get some pleasure out of our kinky intimacy. In her defense, however, I have to point out two things. First, her trickery achieved the original purpose—neither her father, her aunt, nor Hans, nor anyone else associated with the Thornton empire gave any evidence that they suspected our intermittent affair (or whatever the heck we were doing.)

Second, her escalating punishments and humiliations didn't happen in a vacuum; although we never talked about it, we actually engaged in a competition, escalating our teasing and domination of each other. By that I mean that, whenever she signalled that we could be intimate together, we would first have a torrid session of mutual stimulation and fucking after which I would dominate HER in our second mating. Over time, she experienced and seemingly enjoyed most of the submissive treatments she had imposed on me. In turn, these experiences encouraged her impish sense of humor to dominate me even more fully, as described above.