How I Became Emperor Ch. 05: Sunday

Sunday

I awoke the next morning to an insistent knocking on my door. Groggily I sat up, noting that Cindy, still in the crook of my arm, was only just waking up under the pounding noise as well.

"What?" I called out to whoever was so rudely interrupting my sleep. Bad mistake. Keisha took that as an excuse to come straight into the room. I scrambled to get all of my limbs under the blanket. Cindy, apparently more used to Keisha's presence, just sat up dropping the blankets so that my morning wood almost peeked out.

Bare chested before her flat mate - who didn't fail to notice my frantic scrambling or how close I had come to showing my pecker - Cindy greeted Keisha. "Hey, is it 9:00 already?"

"Yup," Keisha replied, bouncing slightly with impatience - or was that excitement - those massive knockers jiggling up and down for me. My leg twitched involuntarily at the sight against Cindy who, without looking, snaked her hand under the sheets to envelope my pecker.

"Ok, Keisha. Keep your hair on. We're just getting up." Cindy replied evenly, "how did you even get in?"

"Luckily Irina isn't as lazy as you two." Keisha growled playfully. "Come on, we've all got work to do!"

"Yeah, yeah." Cindy retorted. "But he's not going to be of use to you until he's washed. Let me give him a shower, and then he's all yours until the afternoon. Ok?"

"Fine." Keisha pouted, "but hurry up!"

She stalked out of the room leaving me and Cindy alone in the bed, naked.

"Are you planning on making me Mayor today as well?" I quipped.

Cindy grumbled in reply. She pinched my foreskin between thumb and finger, and used that to tow me onto my feet. "Get in the shower."

I followed Cindy into the hallways, still pulled by my foreskin, but thankfully somewhat covered by a towel. There was no-one to see between my room and the bathroom anyhow.

We each took our morning leak, me with some difficulty through my morning wood, and got into my less roomy shower together. With both of us in there we were pressed close together under the water stream. I loved it. "When I build my own house I'm installing a shower just this small."

Cindy grumbled slightly again, still not in the best of moods, grabbed my shoulders and heaved herself up on me. For a moment she tried to find our sexual connection without using a hand to guide me, but under the slippery water there was no chance, so I quickly helped out.

As she sank onto my pole Cindy sighed "good! I can't have you fucking everyone in sight but me! Now give it to me hard."

I followed the command, pushing Cindy up against the shower wall and pummelling into her with a vengeance. I had to agree with Cindy, it had been far too long since we had copulated.

I threw myself into the sex, experimenting with the pace and depth of my strokes. I would have tried to change the angle as well, but holding Cindy up with her legs wrapped around my hips gave me little enough room for movement as it was. Suddenly I felt the water that had been pouring down on us from the shower head above move, and before I registered it Cindy had stretched so that she could spray the water straight at our sexes from below. It was a sensuous feeling, the water massaging my dick and balls as I thrust into Cindy. She must have gotten pleasure from it as well, as it stimulated her nether erogenous zones.

Soon enough she came hard, muffling her screams of ecstasy against my shoulder.

I let her calm down a bit, no longer making any movement but still feeling the walls of her vagina twitch around my cock. "Damn you." She whispered, "I said fuck me!"

As much as she could she bounced up and down to get the friction going again. I helped out to resume the wet slaps of skin against skin. Cindy kept right on using the shower head to great effect on both of us. Very soon she was burying her face in my neck again and breathing very heavily.

Again I stopped to let her ride out the orgasm. The first indication I had that she was done came when she grabbed the hair on the back of my head roughly and looked deep into my eyes, our foreheads touching. "I must have been unclear the first two times: Ram. Your. Cock. Into. My. Pussy. Until. You. Come." She explained as though explaining to an imbecile.

"Yes ma'am" I saluted one armed. I did just as she commanded as well, pushing up into her repeatedly even through her next orgasm. On that third one, shortly after it began for her I joined in, spilling what seed I had to give deep into her.

We calmed down, and I realised I'd been holding up Cindy for a long time. My exhaustion finally overcoming the adrenaline I sank to the floor of the shower dragging Cindy involuntarily to sit in my lap. I pulled a wet strand of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. "You're too good for me." I told her.

Cindy smiled beaming at me.

After regaining some strength we completed the shower, actually getting clean, and returned to my room to dress. Keisha was at the door giving the both of us the stink-eye and a knowing look on her face. Still, she had a teacup in her hand so I assumed Alex or Irina had provided her with some kind of sustenance.

Cindy and I took our time getting dressed, me because I knew Keisha was going to judge me the moment I walked out that door so I wanted the most wrinkle-free shirt and the least faded pants I could find. Cindy took her time because she was deep in thought. Halfway dressed she stopped, still only in her bra and skirt, sat on my bed and fixed me with a stare.

"I want to tell you what I dreamt last night." She said, sounding very serious.

"Mhm?" I replied, only lending her half an ear.

"Remember that faceless angel I told you about the night we met? He came back last night."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"In my dream." Cindy explained. "I was standing in a meadow, and there was this table there. The angel was on the other side of the table, and he brought out his sword again. He pointed it at my forehead, and suddenly there was a birdcage on the table, with a beautiful blackbird inside it. I opened the cage and the bird hopped out onto the table. I tried to pick it up but it hopped away from me. Every time I tried to coax it closer it would cheep shrilly at me and hop away as though it was scared of me."

"The angel then pointed the sword at my heart, and pricked me lightly as before, and suddenly the bird could fly. It soared away into the sky and vanished. The angel waved his other hand and the cage vanished to be replaced by a small box with the sign of a heart on it. The blackbird was suddenly on my shoulder. It cheeped at me, and flew away again. I could see it wheeling and whirling all around the meadow with almost every type of bird you could imagine, parrots, nightingales, hummingbirds, ravens, parakeets, sparrows, crows, hawks, eagles, falcons, red breasts, herons, simply everything. But after each time it would fly off to dance with a bird it would come back to me and sit on my shoulder and chirp in my ear."

"The angel then placed his sword against my pussy again, and I got instantly wet. I guess that's why I was so desperately horny this morning, and why I jumped you in the shower. But when the angel touched me there the blackbird came back to me a last time, then flew off to dance with the other birds, but didn't come back to me. I looked at the table and the box with the heart was gone, and in its place was a pair of binoculars. I picked them up, and looked through them at the blackbird wheeling in the distance and I was suddenly sad because I knew the blackbird would never come back to me. When I put down the binoculars the angel nodded at me, and began beating his sword against the table. Lightly at first, then harder and harder."

Cindy stopped talking then, and I - now fully dressed - sat down beside her. "And then what?" I asked.

"I woke up and Keisha was banging at the door." Cindy gave a small little laugh.

"It's an interesting dream." I mused, "do you think it means something?"

"I know it does." Cindy sounded very sure. "The angel wouldn't just visit without a reason."

"Well, what do you think it means?"

Cindy hit her bottom lip with a finger, thinking. "I think it was supposed to show me that I can only lock up your heart, not your mind or your sex, otherwise I'll lose you, either never to see you again when I let you free, or to only see you with other women from afar, never with me."

"So I am the blackbird?"

"Yeah. I just don't know why the angel felt the need to show me this. I mean I would never want to lock up any part of you, and you already know that as long as I know about it, you can fuck whoever you like, so what was it trying to tell me?"

I hesitated, not knowing how to answer this. "You know you can lock up whatever part of me you want, right? I'm not going anywhere just yet. That thing with Abby,... as far as I am concerned that is more business. I guess I am rationalizing it away to myself as well, trying not to be that stereotypical lusty young tween boy who can't control his hormones. But if I am lying to myself, I am being quite convincing for now."

Cindy smiled at me and hugged me. "I know you don't have wandering eyes. But you might in the future. Let's not kid ourselves, this relationship is still in the early stages. We may grow to hate each other, yet."

"What a depressing thought." I countered, trying to inject some cheer. "Come on, let's get you dressed. I need to go shopping with your flatmate."

Cindy let herself be goaded into getting dressed fully. Before we left my room though she grabbed my arm and kissed me passionately. "I'm changing the rules slightly." She announced. "If you get the chance to fuck someone, and I know them and consider them a friend, I want you to fuck them, even if you haven't asked me first. Ok?"

"Really, Cindy. Don't you think that's a bit of a drastic change to make based on a dream?"

"Not when it contained the angel. If you get the chance to fuck Keisha, or Abby, or anyone from the volleyball team, I want you to do it, you understand me?!"

"I understand." I assented reluctantly, fully intending never to pick up that option.

"Good." Cindy stated. "Except Chantelle. I really don't like that bitch, even if she is on the volleyball team."

"Chantelle is a nono, got it." I said to prove I had indeed understood the instructions. To me it was all still academic.

We left the room where I was instantly grabbed by Keisha and hustled out the door. Cindy followed at a more sedate pace, only giving me instructions to meet her on the main campus square at 14:00.

Keisha dragged me down the high street of our lazy university town, and without hesitation pulled me into a high-end clothing store. "You come from good money, right?" Was all she had to say when I raised my eyebrows at the prices.

"Money, yes. Good money? Debatable." I countered but left it at that. We browsed for a bit, looking at everything possible from sweaters and vests to undershirts and designer label clothing. No matter what I or Keisha pulled off the rack though, Keisha inevitably would wrinkle her nose and say: "too tight," or "too easily wrinkled" or simply "nope. Nope nope nope."

I will admit to the beginning of exasperation as we entered the third stop on our tour, a high-end men's boutique. We began with browsing a bit, and still Keisha was at least skeptical about everything we looked at until a store clerk came forward, a young brunette with an innocent face, about 19 years old if I hit my guess (which it turns out I did). She offered us assistance, and after weighing the young filly up carefully Keisha accepted.

"We're looking to give him a completely new wardrobe." Keisha threw a careless wave more or less in my direction. "Shirts, pants, shoes, ties, jackets, sweaters, socks, underwear." My eyes bugged out at that last one. "He's a bit peculiar about his styling, only wears black for one thing. Always needs to be dressed extremely sharply for another."

"Not to worry," the shopgirl replied completely unfazed, "I am sure we can find your boyfriend something that will suffice."

"Oh, I'm not her boyfriend." I interrupted, but Keisha stared me down like a lioness stares down a hyena.

"My mistake," the shopgirl offered quickly. "If you'll follow me to the back, I have a private fitting room set up."

"Uh - actually," I interrupted again, "could you give me and my NOT girlfriend a moment? I need to uhm, clear something up."

"Sure," the girl answered professionally, "I'll just start seeing if I can find something to your liking." And she left towards the back.

"What?" Keisha asked.

"You realise I can't afford any of this, right?" I asked slightly, panicked.

"I thought you said you had a credit card?"

"Yeah, for emergencies and a small bit of spending, but my dad is going to kill me when he sees the bill for this!"

"Huh." Keisha looked briefly pensive. Then she appeared to get an idea. "Give me your phone."

"What? Why?"

"Will you stop being a baby and just give me your phone?" Keisha grabbed it out of my hand and turned away, fending off my attempts to get it back.

"Keisha. Keisha! Wait! You can't call my dad, you have no idea! He'll be in a meeting or somewhere important-..."

"Hi," Keisha put on her warmest winning tone. When she started to use that tone everyone else always melted in her hands like butter. It grew kind of annoying in later years - mostly because I also tend to melt when she turns that tone on me. "I'm sorry to bother you. I'm a friend of your son's, and a couple of his friends got together this weekend and hatched a little plan to get him elected as the student body president. As part of that plan we are going to need to get your son some new clothes, but he's worried about his parent's reactions when they see the charges on his credit bill.... Yes.... Of course.... Nothing but the best, I understand.... Sure, I'll put him right on."

Keisha offered me the phone. At this point I was already hunched, head-in-hands imagining my father in the middle of some kind of high flung meeting at work having to pick up the phone, but when I held the mobile to my ear it was my mother's voice that greeted me.

"Son," she instructed sternly, "I want you to follow that girl's advice. Buy yourself some new clothes, you deserve it, and I've always been after you for those rags you wear. Make sure it's something proper this time."

"Yes mom." I agreed utterly defeated.

"And good luck with this election thing. I imagine it will look good on your resume. Talk to you soon honey, your aunt will be over any minute. Got to go."

"Bye mom." I managed to get in before she hung up.

Keisha helped me back to my feet. "How did you do that?" I asked her, dazed.

"Mothers always think their sons don't look perfect. Come on."

"I have no idea how you imagine I'll make a good president when it appears I am unable to stand up to anyone!" I wondered aloud as Keisha led the way to our waiting shopgirl. "I mean after you, Cindy, and Abby walked all over me yesterday, and today I hardly get to say two words to my own mother..."

Keisha stopped again just out of earshot of the shopgirl and stepped in close to me.

"I was convinced of your character by two things. By the way you reacted when we first talked, the day after I returned home so suddenly," I reddened a bit remembering, "and by the fact that Cindy already knew I had seen the both of you. Not just anybody would do either of those things." Keisha let me think on that for just a moment before her commanding tone returned "now come on. We can't keep the poor girl waiting all day."

The shopgirl, who finally introduced herself as Erica Frances, led us into a semi-circular room, decked out luxuriously in a very deep navy blue.

To this day I dream about that room in which I would be fitted for clothes for the next 40 years until the building was finally torn down. Almost 60 square metres, it was overly grand. One long bench along the curved wall was made available to whatever audience or guests the person being fitted might have. Set into the ceiling above were hooks for all the various and sundry items that someone would try on in this room. At each end of the semicircle were also tables and these massive doors made of dark panelled wood, one leading to the hallway access and the front of the store, the other to somewhere that employees and clothes would magically appear from. The flat end of the room was made of five, ceiling to floor length mirrors set at slight 10 degree angle offsets to each other, such that anyone who stood at an spot exactly in the middle of the room (helpfully marked with a small podium with lush red velour covering) would see himself from different angles in each mirror.

The three of us entered and Erica bade me stand on the podium while Keisha relaxed on the plushy bench. From some hidden pocket in her fashionable dress Erica produced a tape measure and began to measure everything from the length of my feet and the crown of my head (lengthwise, crosswise and circumference) to the circumference of my wrists and neck. I have to admit, this was something I was not used to.

I tried to mask my uncomfortableness with talk.

"So... Erica. What brings you out here to the middle of nowhere on the map?"

"I came for the fashion school here." She replied pleasantly, but without much ado.

"Ah, so that's why you work here?" I asked, actually interested.

"I work here because I need to pay the bills. I admit, the fact that it is at least somewhat fashion related is enticing, but it's not where I want to end up. Up, please." She gently raised my arms out to my sides.

"And where would that be?"

"Having my own fashion label. You can drop your arms now. But for that I will need some long years."

"Are you any good at designing your own stuff?"

"I'm the best." She boasted without any apparent shame.

"Then why are you still here?" I countered.

"Because there are hoops you have to jump through, even in the fashion industry. Only someone like Chanel or Lagerfeld can just show up one day and start right at the top. The rest of us need to apprentice with someone, or preferably many someones first before a benefactor with the money and the power to bankroll us turns up."

"Anything interesting you've already created?" Keisha chimed in from the bench as Erica took to measuring my feet sizes.

"Mostly haute couture. My boss and teachers tend not to like my best ideas though."

"Why not?" I asked.

"They say it's too radical, too different or too old." Erica continued. "Do you hang to the left or right?" She asked, as she set about measuring my trousers.

I failed to understand what she was getting at. "What?"

"Do you hang to the left or right?" She asked matter-of-factly.

"I'm sorry, I really don't know what you mean by that."

Keisha came to my 'rescue' causing me to flush brightly red. "She's asking whether your genitalia hang down the left or right trouser leg."

"Oh. I... I didn't know that was a thing... I really don't know. Generally I just pull on my trousers, I don't pay attention to which way I 'hang'. Is that bad?"

Erica gave me a small smile looking up to meet my eye as she kneeled before me. "Not really. Most men don't pay attention to it. The only difference would be creating a slightly larger catchment area down one leg. In most cases we just make both sides a little wider, giving the wearer the option, but my boss has me asking every man I fit. He says it's good practice and educational."

With that she bent over, used one thumb to hold her tape measure to the floor, and stretched the other up my in-seam. When she reached the top her upturned hand grasped at my crotch. It was probably brief, certainly not long enough for Keisha to notice, but definite.