Internude Ch. 06: Twists and Turns

Both assistants were watching her surreptitiously. While Blondie dealt with the sale in a professional manner, I whispered in her redheaded colleague's ear. "Your colleague is beautiful. Gorgeous and sexy. You'd love to fuck her from behind with a strap-on and make her lick it clean afterwards."

I didn't expect it to work, of course, but I did see Red glance over at the shelf with the strap-ons. "The purple one would look so hot sliding into Blondie's cunt," I said. "Someone needs to fuck her. You need to fuck her. Here in the shop. You'd love to see the expression on her face if a customer walked in while you were fucking her."

Lifting her skirt, I eased a finger into her pants, into her pussy. She was certainly getting wet. I caressed her clit, and dipped my finger into the wetness before bringing it to her mouth and brushing her upper lip. I wanted her to smell her own arousal.

One second later, Red's expression was priceless, her mouth open in a perfect 'O' of surprise, her hands pressed against her skirt.

Blondie was finished with the sale. "You're bored and horny," I told her, "and you need someone to fuck you. You don't care who." I lifted up her skirt to see white lace knickers. "Take off your underwear. Here. Now. Bra and panties. You don't care who sees you do it."

She too resisted the suggestion, although she glanced down at her chest as if considering it. Across the shop, Red was still studying the strap-ons.

The ability to step through time like this was both a blessing and a curse. It was good not having to hide in the distance just to start and stop time, but it made everything so slow, and it was tiring. For me, maybe ten minutes had passed in the shop, but only one minute in real time. Persuading Red to fuck Blondie was going to take forever at this rate. I was bored and horny.

"Touch your toes," I instructed, and this she obeyed, bending over into the perfect position for me. I lifted her skirt and tugged her knickers down about her ankles, and took great pleasure in lubing her ass. I took even greater pleasure in thrusting my hard cock into that tight rear passage. I knew it was dangerous to use my power this way, that she was sure to know she had been fucked in an impossible manner, but I'd waited long enough. I was stupid with Keira and got away with it. I'd risk it again.

Such an exquisite ass. Having penetrated her sweet rosebud I took my time, savouring the illicit joy. One day, I was determined, I would fuck her in real time, just as I had fucked Keira, but for now this was sufficient.

With a sigh of satisfaction, I achieved my climax, pumping my cum deep within that dark passage. After tidying myself away, and fixing Blondie's clothing, I murmured in her ear, "Don't question it. Just accept it. It's nothing to worry about."

And indeed, though her expression a second later was startled, by the time she was standing up again, the alarm had given way to mere puzzlement.

[Keira]

What happened to me yesterday was terrible, and I would never wish it on another soul. Except that isn't the whole truth. Terrible, yes, but degrading though the experience was, I ended up embracing it. The worst thing about it, somehow, is that there's no one who would believe me. How do you convince someone that a fellow student has god-like powers and a rapacious temperament? How do you explain that, once you got over that shock to your whole worldview, you actually enjoyed being reduced to a helpless sex object?

What would he do, my abuser, if I refused to choose? No doubt he could strip me naked in public, clamp my nipples and plug my butt, perhaps even here in the classroom, surrounded by people who know me. No doubt he could dream up worse. Perhaps he will anyway. To me, and to others. But that's up to him. Better to stay out of it.

But I'm not out of it. I'm tacitly supporting him by not reporting him. I'm wearing the shoes he gave me!

And then I see her. Amy. In the queue for the lift, her long, dark hair falling across the shoulders of her lilac button-up shirt, dark tights beneath a black mini-skirt, grey wedge-heeled trainers. Always well dressed, never a hair out of place, a posh accent and the air of someone used to getting their own way. And almost certainly straight, unlike me. I'm only mostly straight, and Amy is definitely my type. If I had the power to stop time, and was naughty enough to abuse it, Amy would be my choice.

Imagine if the perv had chosen her instead! If he had stripped her on the grass, shoved a glass buttplug up her ass, covered her face and breasts with cum... What a glorious picture that would have made. "Hey, Amy," I greet her as we enter the lift.

"Hi, Keira. Everything okay? You disappeared early yesterday. I like your shoes, by the way."

For her to be so close to me, chatting like we're friends, making eye contact, especially when I still have this image in my mind of her being fucked and spanked in full public view, or her walking home dressed like a stripper with cum pouring from her ass, has my heart pounding. "Ah, thanks, yes, I'm fine."

The doors open again. "Well, if you need to borrow my notes," she says, by way of goodbye, her mind on other things, other people.

"Thanks," I say, but she is gone already, waving at her real friends.

I stare at the note in my hand. I know now that I will choose, and also who to choose. It's not that I want her to suffer. It's that I want to really matter to her. Even if it's a form of shared suffering.

[Marcus]

It was a flat room with tables arranged, rather than a lecture theatre. Although it was a tight squeeze, I could navigate in frozen time to Keira's seat. The note was on the desk in front of her.

The first name listed was 'Amy Johnson'. Amy, whose frozen mouth had been the first to welcome my cock, and who I'd intended to have fun with anyway. A very good choice - and the second, much to my amusement, was 'Me'.

Amy and Keira... together... Ah, now surely that was heaven. I was surprised that Keira had chosen at all, delighted that she had chosen Amy, and intrigued that she had chosen herself. Had she guessed, somehow, that I would have chosen the same two girls?

"Why?" I wrote, and returned to my seat.

It was Perturbation Theory, and Keira certainly looked perturbed, a guilty flush on her cheeks and a momentary glance in my direction. I ignored her and concentrated on the lecture. I was weary from the long walk back from the adult shop and happy to sit and relax for a while. Besides, the maths was pretty interesting.

As the class drew to an end, however, I returned to Keira's table and looked at her response. Three simple words: "I want her."

I grinned. It was the perfect answer. Keira wasn't merely playing along. She was embracing it, seduced by the power and possibilities. My cock, quiescent since Blondie's ass, surged back to life, hardening swiftly within my pants.

[Amy]

As Amy tidied her stuff away after possibly the dullest lecture yet - not the content so much as the delivery - she became aware of the itchiness of her tights, which only worsened as she stood and made her way to the exit. It really was intolerable, and she worried she'd developed a rash or something, maybe from the detergent. "I'll catch up," she said to her friends, and headed for the bathroom instead.

Locked in a cubicle, she lifted her skirt and pulled down her tights, searching for the source of discomfort, looking for signs of a rash, finding nothing. And yet, the tights had to come off, and it was a relief to be free of them. But that wasn't the end of it. As she slipped her bare feet into her wedge-heeled trainers and adjusted her skirt, she was aware of a fresh source of discomfort. Her black lace knickers were biting into her crotch as if they had shrunk in the wash.

Which was absurd. They'd been fine when she put them on in the morning, and she wasn't about to take them off too. She wasn't that kind of girl. She could survive a bit of pain for the remainder of the day. There were only two more lectures, after all. One of which she now had to hurry across the campus to. (It was irritating how they couldn't just keep all the lectures in one building, or at least have a decent break between them. She'd been hoping to talk more with Alex, her on-again, off-again boyfriend, currently more off than on since he was sort-of seeing someone else.)

Four minutes later, passing the cafeteria, only halfway to her destination, she'd had enough of the abrasive pain. It felt like the elastic was gouging into her flesh with every step she took. "Fuck," she hissed quietly. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." She darted into the cafeteria, into the accessible loo, and tugged her traitorous knickers down and off. The relief was palpable, even if she did feel like a slut as she hurried the rest of the way.

Amy had never gone without underwear before. She was only too aware of the cool, fresh air against her thighs and against her exposed pussy. At least her skirt was a decent length, and the material thick enough to conceal her indecency, but the word 'slut' kept echoing in her thoughts; and when she slipped into the lecture theatre as unobtrusively as possible - why the doors had to open so loudly she really did not know - and everyone including the lecturer stared at her, in that brief instant she was convinced they all knew.

But of course they didn't, and the moment passed quickly, but the heat of embarrassment lingered in her cheeks as she searched for a convenient seat. On impulse she chose the one next to Keira, whose eyes widened as if in alarm. "What?" Amy whispered, wishing suddenly she'd chosen another seat. Five rows further down, Alex had saved her a seat, but Amy doubted the lecturer would look kindly on her playing musical chairs.

"Nothing," Keira said, looking away guiltily, but Amy was abruptly sure of two things: that her pussy was not merely exposed but also wet with arousal; and that Keira could smell it.

[Keira]

The likelihood of Amy choosing to sit next to me, when she could easily sit with her friends, is so small as to be vanishing. That she is also uncharacteristically late suggests that the perv's game has begun. Has he fucked her yet? Are her breasts covered in cum? I don't smell cum, and she's still wearing a bra, so probably not, but I can't not be aware of her bare thighs so close to mine, and I distinctly remember her wearing dark tights earlier. I can't not be aware of the warmth of her, or the smell of her, a constant distraction from Galois fields and coding theory.

I'm also aware of the way she keeps trying to adjust her bra, sometimes slipping her fingers between the buttons of her lilac shirt. I wonder if the perv has put itching powder in her underwear - although that wouldn't explain her decision to sit next to me.

Halfway through the hour, the lecturer announces a five-minute break, something he's never done before, and there's a sigh of relief from the class. "Thank fuck," Amy whispers, and rushes up the stairs and out of the theatre. She reappears five minutes later, her bra balled up tightly and almost unrecognisable in one hand, her nipples making sharp points in her cotton shirt. "Don't say a thing," she mutters irritably, stuffing her bra into her bag.

I don't say a word, but it's impossible to hide my smile. I don't know what he's doing to her, but I'm loving it.

[Amy]

It had to be something in the laundry, some chemical that tightened the elastic and roughened the viscose. Whatever caused it, it was a relief to be free of the torture, and deeply uncomfortable at the same time. If being without knickers made her feel like a slut, having visibly aroused nipples compounded the sense of being on display. Bad enough that Keira must surely smell her pussy, the girl had also stared at her breasts in no uncertain way.

She really wished she had sat with Alex, although it would have seemed entirely too desperate of her if he'd seen her remove her bra. No. Best to avoid her friends until she could fix her clothing again, or at least until she could cool her perverse arousal.

Focussing on the lecture helped a little, though she kept getting distracted by the erotic fantasy of unbuttoning her shirt so that Keira could kiss her breasts and suck on her swollen nipples.

Amy rejected such imaginings. She wasn't into women. She certainly wasn't into Keira. Now if it were Alex beside her, sucking on her tits while Keira's tongue penetrated her pussy... She gave a quiet moan of frustration. What was wrong with her!

"Are you okay?" Keira whispered.

Amy didn't dare look at her. "Yes," she hissed through gritted teeth.

The end of the lecture couldn't come soon enough. She gathered up her stuff and fled.

[Marcus]

Fun as it had been to both strip and tease Amy using words alone, I was getting hungry for more. I stopped time as Amy ran from the lecture theatre, whispered, "Follow her," in Keira's ear, and used scissors to weaken the button threads on Amy's shirt. Then, after exploring the building for a few minutes, I found an empty, secluded room. Returning to Amy, I whispered, "Study Room C. You can be alone there. Safe."

Back in my seat in the theatre, I restarted time, and watched as Keira hurried out in pursuit of Amy.

[Keira]

For a moment I can't see her - the hallway outside is busy with students leaving and awaiting lectures - but then I hear her scream, and spot her briefly through the startled crowd. Her shirt has torn open, exposing her breasts completely, and her eyes are bright with panic as she struggles to hold the shirt closed.

She dashes for the stairs and I hurry up, keeping her just in sight as she makes for the study rooms on the first floor. It seems an odd place to run to, but that's just one more odd thing in an ever longer list of odd things about today. Although the doors do lock...

I get there just in time to stop her doing so, pushing the door to Study Room C open again and joining her inside. "Leave me alone!" she cries, though the way she's clutching at her shirt and blushing furiously makes her look like a Bond girl on the point of surrendering to OO7's overwhelming charm.

"I want to help you," I say - and suddenly I can say no more, because there's a ring gag holding my mouth wide open, a leather strap holding it firmly in place. Before I can react, my wrists are captured behind me; handcuffs, I guess.

If any of this had happened before yesterday, I'd have been screaming my head off. Instead, Amy is the one who is frozen with shock, her eyes wide in disbelief, as my clothes disintegrate around me. The perv must have used scissors. "-a-a-," I mutter, wondering if he can hear me.

Another blink in time and Amy's remaining clothing scatters similarly. Before she can scream, there's a ball gag to muffle it, and suddenly her hands are captured too, and a blindfold placed over her eyes. No doubt she is terrified, but there's nothing I can do. A second later I'm blinded too, my tormenter's hands on my bare back, bending me over a table, his hard cock easing between my thighs.

Yesterday he claimed my ass, today he's starting with the other, and I'm so wet, so completely willing, that he thrusts in easily. Were I able to talk, I'd encourage him to go deeper, to do it harder, and faster, but wordless cries of pleasure are all I can manage.

[Amy]

As her body struggled to breathe and her mind struggled to encompass the impossible, one thought dominated the rest: "None of this is real. You may as well enjoy it."

It seemed real though, even if what she had seen made no sense. The rubber ball stuffing her mouth felt real. The strap tight about her head felt real. The leather grip on her wrists felt real. What she could hear made little sense either. Someone else must be in the room, because the sound of flesh impacting on flesh was as unmistakable as the wordless cries of pleasure. Someone... a man... was fucking Keira... and she was loving it. Someone who had gagged and bound them both. Someone who no doubt would turn to Amy once he was done with Keira.

The fucking stopped suddenly, leaving only the sound of Keira's panting. A rush of sensation, almost electrical, burst out from Amy's nipples and clit, and with a muffled cry she dropped to her knees, breathing heavily. You slut, she thought to herself, you love this.

Except it didn't really feel like her thought. It felt like someone telling her what to think, just like all those thoughts earlier about Keira. Or maybe she was just trying to excuse her sluttishness by blaming it on someone else. Keira's fucking had resumed, every slap of flesh resonating with her, every moan of pleasure making her wish should could feel what Keira was feeling.

The fucking stopped again, and moments later a stream of cum splashed across her breasts, the smell of it very real, the sensation unmistakable. She should have felt disgusted by it. She should have felt violated. But instead of flinching away, instead of screaming denial, she pushed out her chest as if to help, as if to collect as much as possible of that warm, virile cum as it rained down onto her.

Again the alien thought crawled through her mind: "Cumslut." Alien, yes, but true.

[Keira]

The blindfold is gone as abruptly as it was applied. There is no sign the perv. There is only me, bent over and freshly fucked (though far from satisfied); and Amy, on her knees, chest thrust out as if in anticipation of another shower of cum. She doesn't seem in distress, though it's hard to tell. She does look good enough to eat, though, and I may not get another chance.

I kneel in front of her, and bend, not to kiss her on her breasts, for the ring gag makes that almost impossible, but to caress her with my lips and taste the cum that oozes so provocatively down those voluptuous slopes. She gasps, not expecting tenderness. Nor does she expect the touch of my lips against hers, ball against ring like some obscene mating of silicone.

She pulls away at first, startled, uncertain, but her nipples are soon seeking my open mouth and the teasing brush of my tongue. The perv is behind me - I sense him - watching over my shoulder as I act out this lesbian fetish porn for him. I know if I turn round he will be gone, invisible again. I feel absurdly grateful to him for arranging this seduction, and more than a little ashamed at my own willing submissiveness.

He kneels behind me, his cock hard again, pressing this time at my ass, and I whimper from the pain of it as he presses for entry, my face pushing against Amy's chest. For the second time in two days he claims my ass, this time with far less preparation. The intensity of sensation from the friction is so much more, and coupled with the gorgeous feeling of being stretched so wide, I can't help enjoying it - though I suspect I'll be feeling it for days.

His thrusts drive my face against Amy's breasts. Sometimes I am able to aim my drooling mouth at a nipple, flicking it hungrily with my tongue. Sometimes my face impacts those soft cushions, smearing my cheeks with his cum. Always his hard cock drives powerfully into me, forcing a cry through my wide-stretched lips. It's so good, so fucking good, and so fucking painful too. And not just my ass. With my arms bound behind me, it's killing my shoulders and neck too.

Astonishingly, wonderfully, I feel the building tension of an impending orgasm. My cries are so loud it's surprising no one outside has come to investigate. The soundproofing must be really good. It must excite him too, because he's thrusting deeper than ever, his cock feels thicker than ever, and he's grunting like a bull. He finishes first, slamming his cock as deep as possible, cum bursting into me from his pulsing cock, and it's enough to trigger my own climax.

It's my second time doing anal, my first time climaxing with a cock in my ass, and I never imagined it could feel so good, my ass contracting about that brutally hard convulsing invader, sending waves of ecstasy through my abused body.