Idiokti̱sía, Ypi̱réti̱s, Políti̱s Ch. 02

Office Hours

Monday morning, Jill was waiting at Mitch's office when he arrived.

"Hi Mitch. You said to come back this week, so here I am!" Bright and cheerful, she stood close, looking up into Mitch's eyes.

Mitch was a bit surprised at her bubbly eagerness. She had definitely changed her appearance also. Last week she had been modestly dressed, so modestly he couldn't actually say what she had worn. Today she wore a tiny blue miniskirt, a tight white tank top without a bra, and blue high heels. And makeup; today she was made up nicely with a fair amount of makeup. Still unprepared for such a display from a gorgeous girl, he asked her to sit down and he sat (hid) behind his desk.

Jill set a folder of papers on his desk, "You asked me to find out what I could about the medallion. I'm sorry, but this is all I could get this weekend."

Mitch opened the folder to find a fairly large stack of notes. Pages and pages of handwritten notes, all neatly organized. "This looks like a lot of work. You did all this over the weekend?"

"Well, yes. It's what you said to do. I called a few relatives and asked what they could remember. No one remembered anything at all about a medallion. I talked to my grandpa and all of his surviving brothers and sisters. Nana had 11 kids, but only eight are still alive. I called a few aunts and uncles, but those conversations went nowhere."

"The story of Nana goes like this. She was married to a man named Johnson Braybec. Johnson was like thirty five years older than Nana. Even though she lived for almost eighty more years after him, she continued to love him until the day she died. They had eleven kids together, but apparently he had considerable outside, um, appetites. Lots of affairs with women, rumors of illegitimate children. None of that seems to have bothered her. He was quite a character by all accounts. He was independently wealthy but nobody knows the source of his wealth. In his late seventies he was still cruising the bars, drinking heavily, hitting on young women, picking fights. He climbed mountains, he swam open bodies of water. He died in an accident racing horses with friends, while Nana was pregnant with their last. Johnson was a sailor as a young man, so he would have travelled a lot. But like I said, there was no mention of the medallion. Perhaps even Nana didn't know anything about it. I really am sorry I couldn't learn more."

Mitch caught himself looking at Jill's beauty. Well, leering, actually. He hadn't been with a woman since that French graduate student at the dig in eastern Turkey last summer. Then there was that humiliating attempt to ask out that stunning sorority girl last fall. That didn't end well. It had taken him a week to get up the courage to ask her. She and her pretty friend had laughed at him.

Jill noticed his stare and pulled her shoulders back, putting her mini assets on display. The knit top made it easy to make out her nipples. She flashed that sweet smile and Mitch felt his cock begin to stir. He shifted his weight as his trowsers became uncomfortable.

Jill noticed his apparent nervousness and suggested, "Perhaps this would go better if you used me." She looked at him without blinking, grinning.

Mitch did not question the meaning of those words. He questioned whether he had actually heard her correctly, "...use... you?"

"Yes, Mitch, I mean 'fuck'. Would you like to fuck me? It might help you be less tense."

Mitch had never expected to hear those words, 'Would you like to fuck me?' even once in his life. Much less from a really cute babe. He was still unsure of how to respond, "Here? Now? ... Me?"

Jill looked all around the room for comic effect, giggling, "Of course I mean you, Mitch." She got up and closed the door, sliding around to his side of the desk, whipping her top off in one smooth motion. Her tits may have been teacup small, but her nipples were large, dark, and hard. "I belong to you now Mitch. You can fuck me any time you want, any place you want. You can have me any way you want."

When she reached him she spun his chair to face him. She knelt down to unbuckle his belt and open his fly. She fished his cock out to give him a few strokes. He was as hard as a man should be.

"Are you sure you want this right now?" Mitch still couldn't believe this was happening. It must be some sort of joke.

Jill stood up, squeezed her thighs together, wiggled her hips and giggled, "Yup, I'm plenty wet. Now is good." She turned to bend forward over the desk and flipped her skirt onto her lower back. "I stopped by the ladies room to take off my panties, just in case you wanted to fuck. I AM yours, whenever you want me."

Suddenly consumed by the urgency of a hard cock, and Jill's obscene presentation of herself, Mitch stumbled up behind her as his pants fell down to his ankles. As she was shorter than him, he had to bend his knees to get into position. Jill reached back to guide him in. She was indeed wet, dripping wet, and he slid right in, the only resistance was her incredible tightness. He reached around to paw at her little tits and thrust into her roughly. He was so excited, he came very quickly, and she cried out loudly, coming at the same time.

Mitch collapsed, pinning her against the desk. He kept his hips thrust forward, not wanting to lose the feeling of her cunt gripping his cock. Eventually he slipped out and Mitch sat back in his chair. Jill curled up on his lap and cooed softly in his ear, "God that was great!. Thank you, Mitch. I knew it. I knew you'd be the best fuck I'd ever had. I belong to you now. You can use me anytime you want. Whatever makes you happy. And I'll come for you every single time." Her right hand was between her thighs as her fingers traced gentle circles up one labia and down the other.

Mitch sat there recovering, Jill on his lap masturbating, nibbling on his ear, stroking his ego with her stream of dirty prattle. Good thing his office was buried in the basement, for she had cried out loudly. After a while he asked, "You keep saying you belong to me. What do you mean by that?"

"Something happened when we met last week. Right when you told me what the words were on Nana's medallion. You said something in Greek and I changed."

"What do you mean, you changed? Be honest."

Jill accepted 'be honest' as a direct instruction, "Well, I'm still me. I still remember everything about me. Family, friends, school, none of that has changed. It's just that my sense of self is different. I can't seem to separate my thoughts about me as an individual from the idea that I somehow belong to you. It's very strange. I want whatever it is you want. I need what you need. Your pleasure is my pleasure. And I, um, ... I seem to be constantly horny for you."

"You're horny all the time?"

"Hmm, well yes, horny, but not exactly. That doesn't describe it quite right. I want you to be happy and fulfilled. Since you're a man, and men need regular sex to be fulfilled, I want you to fuck me as often as you want. That thought, 'I want you to fuck me' is a constant part of my consciousness. It doesn't stop me from getting stuff done. It doesn't distract me from anything, except maybe sleeping. But it won't go away. So the easiest way to describe it is: I am horny for you. I really do want you to fuck me. All the time. 'Making love to me' isn't important, although it'd be awesome. Emotional bonding is not necessary unless you want it. If fucking me serves your masculinity in some way, then by all means, use me. That's what I'm here for."

Mitch mulled that over, recalling as best he could exact what had happened last week. "You say it happened when I said something in Greek. I find it hard to believe, but that medallion may have some sort of effect over you. We need to figure this out so we can reverse whatever has been done to you."

"But, Mitch, I'm not sure I want it to be reversed. I've never been happier in my life than this weekend. This feeling of belonging, it's like pure, ... bliss. Or happiness, or something. I cannot fully explain it, but it's like my whole life was a jumbled, screwed up mess. Not that I wasn't happy before. I'm sure I thought I was a normal, well-adjusted person. I must have been blind, though. Now that I am yours, it all makes perfect sense."

"Please, Jill. I didn't mean to do this. I had no idea."

"Oh no, don't apologize, Mitch. I feel as if my whole life was in preparation for this. I am now exactly what I was meant to be. I don't want this to end, ever."

"I'm still not sure I even believe this. And I certainly don't understand it. This seems to break a whole slew of natural laws. So you don't want to reverse it, at least not now, right? So what do we do next?"

"Well, we figure out what happened, and what else might happen. The medallion changed me, we need to find out if it changed you. We experiment until we know what the rules are, if any. If we understand it better, we might prevent accidents in the future. You already said to be honest with you. I will tell you exactly what I am thinking and feeling. Like I said, first and foremost, I want whatever you want. But from my inferior view, if I were to say what I wanted, I want to be yours. What was that word you said?"

"The first word on the front translates to 'property'. I think that was the only word I said in Greek."

"OK. So maybe it only counts if you say the words in the old language. What else does it say, in English?"

"The three words on the front are Property, Servant, and Citizen."

"So when you said the word in Greek, you must have somehow turned me into your Property. That makes sense, and it matches how I feel. That's good. I now have a word for it. I am Property." Jill inhaled deep, sighed long, and smiled wide, letting this new way of thinking about herself settle in.

Mitch continued, "So Servant and Citizen must have other effects. We need to figure out what."

Jill added, "And you should avoid speaking those words to me in Greek. At least for now. What does the back side say?"

Mitch let her read his notes. She made a copy to take with her. After a bit, she said, "So a Property is different than a Servant. Property has more rules. Servant is more simple."

"Yes. Servant seems to indicate control, obedience without other side effects. You said you're obedient because you want to be, right?"

"Well, sort of, and sort of not. Everything I am flows from the concept of Property. Any obedience I show is a natural consequence of that. I fully understand the dictionary meaning of 'disobedience'. I just cannot conceive of me ever actually doing something like that. And it's not like I don't have any free will, either. I freely choose to be totally obedient to you. At least it feels free."

"So a Servant must not feel that connection. For a Servant, obedience must be involuntary."

Jill smiled wickedly, "That would be compulsory compliance. Mitch, you see? You could make someone do something against their wishes. Think of the fun we, er, I mean, the fun you could have. So that third word, Citizen. That must set someone loose from the first two ... um, words. What should we call them? Commands? Spells? Incantations?" It was obvious Jill was taking this whole thing in some inventive directions.

Jill continued, "So, how should I address you? I think this relationship is traditionally called Master/slave. I really am your slave. Do you want me to call you Master?"

"No, not until I have my head wrapped around all of this. Let's stick with Mitch and Jill for now."

Just then there was a knock on the door. It was his office hours and Mitch was supposed to be open for business. Jill hopped off his lap and slipped her top back on while Mitch pulled his pants up. Jill pulled him in for a quick open mouth kiss. Mitch gave some advice, which Jill heard as direct orders, "Tend to your school work, then meet me here at 5."

JIll opened the door and left, carrying that flushed, freshly fucked look on her face. The young guy waiting to see Mitch ogled Jill as she went by, making a few guesses as to why they had the door closed.