How I Became Emperor Ch. 11: Semester 01

So I walked over to Helen instead, who had grabbed her ankles and spread her legs obscenely to give me an unobstructed view and access to her shaved mound. I rested my cock lightly against her clit, and leaned in close to kiss Helen. She moaned, and bucked, but I teased her, touching her clit with my own genitalia, but not inserting the appendage into her womb. "Two things." I whispered to her. "First, I don't have protection with me."

"I'm safe - so is Jenny." Helen whispered back with a quiver in her voice at the need for the fuck.

"Second, you made a request without making a point first. You will need to be punished." I grinned wildly, and with as much force and speed as I could muster I slammed home within Helen's pussy.

I paused for a heartbeat, letting Helen's brain catch-up, before I immediately began pistoning in and out of her as quickly as I could.

"Best.... punishment... ever!" Helen squealed beneath me. Helen orgasmed loudly, and I continued without remorse. She came again - and a third time, each one as intense as the last and leaving her more and more a wreck.

As we were working towards her fourth, the Professor and Jenny crawled up on either side of us. "Come on, stud." My Professor soothed as though to a crazed animal. "The poor girl is spent. I know I asked you to fuck her into a stupor, but I want to avoid the coma, ok? Why don't you take a go at the nymph on your other side?"

I looked over at Jenny, her tiny tits sprouting large areolas and hard nipples, and figured that the idea had some serious merit. So I acted upon the impulse and moved directly over to bury myself in Jenny's treasure trove. Beside me, the Professor enveloped Helen in an embrace and whispered comfort in her ear.

Jenny, having been well prepared by the Professor, and having had ring-side seats to Helen's earlier adventure, was eager to get me stuck in her. I didn't leave her waiting, and slipped in with ease. The minx moaned with pleasure, and squirmed beneath me. I picked up speed quickly, my lust being driven by the interruption of the fuck with Helen, but tried to keep an eye on Jenny's reaction in case she ended up in some pain. Her cunt was very wet and eager for me though, so as I reached a fever pitch I threw caution to the wind, and took my pleasure from Jenny.

I believe Jenny came a couple times, but my memory is hazy on that point. I do know that I ended up cumming in vigorous spurts into the eager face of my Professor. She, in turn, was the figure of a royal queen as she lay back to let her two attendants lick the glassy-white cream from her face while I toppled onto the couch, spent but happy.

From that day forward, Jenny and Helen became Professor Lex's bitches. It's not a term I liked, nor one that I have ever - to my recollection at least - used outside of this context. I probably lie, I can't imagine I've never had occasion to let the word fly as a cuss, or to refer to someone who had angered me. But no particular instance comes to mind.

In this context, it was a term that Jenny came up with after a few of the group tutoring sessions had passed. In one of the post-coital periods of quiet relaxation Jenny had curled up to one side of the Professor, Helen to the other, each with their head resting on one of the prof's bulbous breasts. Jenny, with something akin to worship, had looked up to Professor Lex (making sure that her nose brushed over the Professor's nipple as she did so) and asked in a weak voice: "Professor, did your bitches do well?"

The Professor and I exchanged worried looks. I already had a fucktoy in my life, and while I had reconciled myself to the specific circumstances with Keisha, I was still uncomfortable with the concept of subservience in all matters carnal.

"Jenny," Professor Lex said uncomfortably, "You're not my bitch."

"Yes I am." Jenny replied without hesitation. "Me and Helen both."

Helen nodded her agreement and before the Professor could say anything, the student explained. "We talked about it, even before these tutoring sessions. Professor, you're not just our favourite teacher, you've been our role-model since we started taking your class. When we saw that he," she indicated me without looking at me, "was getting to spend extra time with you, we got very jealous. When we saw how you two were more familiar with each other than you perhaps should have been, jealousy became desperate desire. We wanted to join in. Any excuse to be closer to you, Professor."

"Yes," Jenny added, "If you were fucking him, then if we could fuck him too we could be more like you!"

"But," I complained, "Why call yourselves 'bitches'? It's such a derogatory term!"

"Not if we're the Professor's bitches." Jenny argued placidly.

Helen chimed in: "We're like fan-girls that have taken it to an extreme. We are snobby about being in Professor Lex's favour - as we should be. But it has caused more than a couple people to call us bitches. Rather than take offence at the term, we decided it was a badge of honour - so long as it was connected to the Professor."

Jenny grinned: "We're the Professor's bitches, and anything she wants from us, she gets. If she wants us to fuck you, we do."

A quiet descended upon us. Eventually Professor Lex roused herself somewhat. "Well, it looks like I've gotten myself two bitches." She shrugged at me.

I winked to my Professor. "Looks like I had better stay in your good graces if I want to have continued access to these two."

"Yep." Jenny and Helen said together with such a matter-of-fact tone that it set me and the Professor laughing.

When I saw Jenny and Helen before class on Wednesday that same week, they both were wearing simple black thongs around their neck holding a simple silver plaque with their names on them. It was unobtrusive, relatively elegant, and could easily have been considered by anyone not in the know as just simple jewellery. Without me having to ask, they both flipped the name plate over to show an engraving of the Professor's name. Clear indications of ownership.

The third item of note is the one I consider the most serious. Despite all of the hard decisions I have had to make in the various roles I've held, this first one I still consider to be one of the hardest.

Rape is a subject matter that I would have liked to avoid in my memoirs, but to turn away from it is to turn a blind eye to it. And I do feel a responsibility to discuss so heinous an act openly when I, as already noted, have had some sexual partners who like rough sex.

Keisha, as discussed so far, got a sexual high from being told what to do, whom to do it with, and generally being used as a sexual toy rather than a human being. I have, as described, given her commands for sexual acts which she has usually followed. But if there was ever any reason for her not to act upon such a demand or command, then I never held it against her, or sought retribution. As much as anyone, Keisha was an individual and had the right to refuse me anything at any time that she so desired to do so.

For example, I can remember that there was a week when her parents were visiting her at university. She had been extremely agitated about how Cindy and I would take this, and nervously talked to both of us before her parent's arrival. She explained that she would not be doing more than talking with us for the next two weeks. We both hugged her, and said not to worry about it, and that if she wanted to return to being our ragged fuck-doll when her parents left, we'd be waiting with her collar. If not, then she was still a friend to both of us. I think that as soon as her parents had closed the car doors, Keisha was knocking on my door begging to be collared to my post again.

Regardless, it is with a heavy heart that I do need to address the subject of rape here, since it became a matter of grave concern almost half-way through my first semester as student president. Thankfully, no-one close to me was involved.

I was walking across campus very early one morning - I think it might have been 6am - when I got a text message on my phone. It asked me to immediately come to the Dean's office. Wondering what was up, I headed there, and presented myself to the secretary who let me in immediately. The Dean and the Chancellor were both present, along with two policemen in uniform. The Chancellor was leaning over the Dean's desk, speaking animatedly. "... the kind of thing we can expect when a lack of moral consciousness is being displayed at the top. We need to do something. Quickly, before..."

Noticing me the Chancellor stopped, and straightened, her eyes cold and haughty. I advanced slowly, carefully eyeing the policemen. I briefly wondered whether the Chancellor was hoping to have me arrested on some pretext or other. I dismissed the idea, I wouldn't have been summoned - I'd have found out about the arrest when they were placing the cuffs on me. It wasn't like I was hard to find.

"Dean?" I asked, acting as though I hadn't heard the Chancellor. "You summoned me?"

The elder gentleman looked up at me with tired eyes. "Yes." He said slowly. "Not good news I'm afraid. The police," he indicated the two men, "arrested two students last night. Apparently the two raped another young student. The roommate of the victim reported the crime."

I cursed - silently and in my head, but profusely. Out loud I said: "I understand. My guess is that we're considering expulsion from the university for the two students, but the question is whether we do it now, or when their trial is heard?"

The Dean nodded his head. "Precisely. And as the representative of the undergraduate student body, you're here to make your suggestion."

I took some time to think, but the Chancellor became impatient. "Well? Nothing to say?"

I retained my calm. "I think," I responded slowly, "there's a number of factors that might help with the decision." I turned to the policemen. "Firstly, how credible is the accusation?"

The two looked at each other, unsure who should talk. One of them eventually said gruffly, "We got quite a bit of evidence suggesting it was them."

"OK," I continued, "and have they acknowledged guilt?"

"They're in interrogation right now."

"Can I talk with the two of them, or the victim? Under your supervision of course."

The two looked at each other again, obviously unsure. In the end they decided they would need to kick that decision to a higher authority. One of them made a call while I explained my preliminary opinion to the Dean and Chancellor.

"We run a danger both in being too hasty to pre-judge, and for reacting too slowly to a credible accusation of rape. Immediately, they should be actively suspended. If after talking with them we are quite sure that they did it, expulsion should be immediate, and publicised as soon as possible to the student body. We need to reinforce the message that we cannot tolerate rape of any sort on campus, or by members of the university at any level.

"For now, I imagine you've already drafted a press release about the alleged incident and our reaction to it. Make sure the student press are informed as quickly as possible. If you want to leave that with my staff who have a close relationship with them already, just let me know."

We discussed the options, and our action-plan a little further, but without any concrete decision until the policeman came back. He informed me that the police-chief had okayed my supervised interview with both accused and victim if either the Dean or Chancellor escorted as well, but that the perpetrators and victim would also have to individually agree to the interviews.

The Chancellor immediately agreed to join the interviews, the Dean decided to stay behind, though I would have preferred the other constellation. The Chancellor I suspected would be quick to judge.

Before we all (except the Dean and his secretary) left, I called Abby and (woke up) Matt. I didn't give them any details, just ordered them to be in the Dean's foyer in an hour when I expected to return. Then we let the policemen escort me and the Chancellor the short 5 minute walk to their station where we waited while the police discussed the possibility of speaking with any of the involved individuals.

We were told that only one of the two accused perpetrators had agreed to see me alone, the other one refusing to speak to police at all, and the victim still not sure. While the Chancellor went into a separate room where she could watch my interview, I was shown into a room where a young man sat. He had no handcuffs on, but the room was bare with a single entrance, and very evidently an interrogation room. I took a seat opposite the boy and introduced myself.

We talked for about 10-15 minutes, one of the most harrowing things I'd had to do up until that point in my short life. I was seized by the need to be objective and independent in this, if not for my own soul's sake, then for the sake of the office I held. I tried to convey that to the arrested youth in advance, and tell him that while I might not believe everything he told me, I would not discount anything he told me unless there was evidence to prove it false.

Looking back, I think that despite my best efforts not to pre-judge the guy for deeds he'd only been accused of at this point, in my actions and the way I felt the need to clarify that I would specifically only discount things I could prove false I actually betrayed a distrust of the man in advance.

Thankfully, for this first proper crisis requiring my careful judgement the facts were actually surprisingly simple. The student's eyes were shifty and hard, but showed signs of having shed some tears recently. He didn't wait long to tell me that indeed he had raped the girl. In rough terms he told me the circumstances for the rape: a long night of drinking after his friend had been dumped by a girl - the victim as it would turn out.

In a drunken stupor and having been kicked out of the last bar they were in, they had stopped by the victim's flat on their way home. As the ex-boyfriend still had a key he let the two of them into the flat and into the girl's bedroom, which they then barricaded against her flatmate.

The confessing boy told me that initially he was just along to watch, but after having raped his ex-girlfriend the other boy had thought her humiliation was not enough, and encouraged his companion to also take his pleasure on her. In despondent tones, the boy told me that he hadn't actually raped the girl. "But does it matter? I as good as did, by helping him." It wasn't a semantic that I was really in the mood to argue, though I did of course understand the legal distinction. The assaulters ignored all attempts by the flatmate to get access to the room until she threatened to call the police at which point the boys escaped out the window using the victim's blanket as a way to lower themselves closer to the ground.

To her credit, apparently the victim had been rather stoic, given the circumstances. Terrified, embarrassed, angry and just a mess of emotions, of course, but she had had the strength to open the door to her flatmate, and when the police had been called and arrived, she had been able to give an account of the events through a mess of tears. The police found and arrested the perpetrators within the hour, to no-one's great surprise.

I thanked the boy for his honesty, and stood to leave. In the doorjamb I turned back and asked: "You realize that in one night you've thrown away half a lifetime, right?"

He looked at me dejectedly, disgusted with himself and still trying to reconcile the events of the night. "I didn't even really want to do it... but..." Whatever else he would have said he left hanging.

As I walked towards the exit of the police station, a young woman I'd seen around campus but didn't know by name accosted me. "What did the fucker say?" She was slightly unkempt, but not as though she'd been through a rough night. More like she'd been woken up and hadn't taken the time to put on makeup or fix her hair properly. But she was furious, seething with pent up rage and ready to vent it on anyone who stood in her way. That much was clear in her combative stance, and from the abrasive tone of her voice.

I took a beat trying to gauge my best course of action, but it was a mistake in itself. The girl took my silence as a rebuke of some sort. "You ASSHOLE!" she yelled at me, and made to take a swing at me. I would have been decked flat if a policewoman that was hovering near the girl hadn't quickly stepped in to stop the punch before it happened. The Furie didn't seem to really register the policewoman though, and kept up a tirade of bad names at me. "TELL ME!" She yelled. "TELL ME WHAT LIE THAT PILE OF PIG SHIT SAID!"

Quite honestly I was a little taken aback at how vehemently and misdirected this attack was coming. But quite suddenly, the girl went almost quite, and with a visible effort restrained herself. "It doesn't matter." she almost whispered to herself. "It doesn't matter what he said. He's going to jail. He's going to jail. He's going to jail."

She kept the mantra up as she tiredly wiped her eyes of the involuntary tears she was shedding, whether of rage or desperation or pure emotional overload I couldn't tell. I decided then that it was time for action. Making a subtle hand gesture to the policewoman that I was ok, I addressed the woman. "Come over here, let's take a seat and have a brief chat."

The woman looked up a little dejectedly at me, and flinched away from my offered hand but agreed to sit on a bench against a wall. The policewoman found a file to read that seemed very uninteresting judging by the fact she was reading it upside down. I didn't think it was a wise idea to point that out right now.

"What's your name?" I asked the woman.

"Anita."

"I'm guessing you're the flatmate who called the police?"

Anita nodded.

"You did the right thing, Anita. I think you are loyal, and brave, and strong and a good woman. I know you feel a little helpless right now. You feel like you should have done something, anything to prevent this from happening. You're scared that such a thing could have happened in your home in the first place. You feel angry, and ashamed, and tired, and like you've got a rollercoaster of emotions washing through you right now, am I at least getting half of these things right?"

I worried the small quip at the end might have been pushing it, but Anita issued a groaning chuckle, and nodded.

"Well, Anita, I can promise you some things. First of all, I don't think that you are ever going to see those two guys ever again. No matter what happens, I am going to do everything in my power to see to it that they are not welcome at our university ever again. I'll also promise you that things will get better, with time. For you, and for your friend. This is a dark hour, and a bad time for both of you. But hold to each other. You need her friendship, perhaps not as much as she needs yours right now, but certainly it is a vital element in the two of you getting some recovery. If I can help in any way, any way at all, just let me know."

I let out a deep breath. As I let my eye rove across the busy police bullpen I noticed the Chancellor standing nearby, watching me intently. I wondered how much she had heard, then realized I didn't really care.

"Anita, I have one final promise to make to you. I will do my best to protect your friend and everyone else on campus from having anything like this ever happen again. I know that someday it will, but I will do my best to have that day be as far away in the future as possible. I will try and keep your name, and your friend's name - which I don't even know, by the way - secret. I do think there are at least going to be rumours, and sadly those are unavoidable, but if at all possible I will do what is within my power to stop them being connected to you."