The Lilac Society Ch. 01

It wasn't until I was already on the inside before I'd ever heard of the Lilac Society. The real one or the imagined one, the actual affiliation or the stuff of urban legend. And yes, there is a real society. Not as widespread or as sinister as it's often thought to be, but it is quite real. I was inadvertently enlisted before I began to know the stories, the myths, the exaggerations. In general, those on the inside don't like to talk about the society when asked. That tends to feed the myths. Everyone who mentions it to me, unaware of my connection, seems to think it's a cult. I just laugh to myself. Perhaps they're right. But I think the reason no one ever wants to talk about it, from a position of personal experience, isn't so sinister as is often imagined. There's no rule against it. We're not the Illuminati. It's just that it's hard to know where to begin. If you're not the type who would be drawn to such a thing, I don't even know how to start. The experience just doesn't translate. That does leave the whole thing open to outsiders' imaginations, vast conspiracies, the dread, the uncanny, the weird. But the reality, I'm afraid, is somehow far more strange, and at the same time, far more beautiful. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I'd almost finished two years of college before I got up the nerve to tell anyone about my true desires. This was a shock because I'd entered college as a freshman swearing I would dedicate myself to finding a way, any way, of living them out. I kept putting it off, kept finding a way to chicken out, for nearly two whole years. My freshman year, I lingered over the listings in the back of the local alt-weekly, occasionally dialing the numbers on one of the ads, never getting up the nerve to hit the green call button. I browsed websites, and I nursed my fantasies. At the start of summer, I sulked home. Returning my sophomore year, I was almost resigned to defeat. I'd occasionally browse the web, or linger over the ads, but I could never work up the nerve to go meet anyone.

Spring was in the air on campus when, drunk at some party, after a year and a half of repressing my fantasies, keeping everything to myself, something just slipped. Too many beers, of course. Everything loud, everything with that hazy, buzzy edge to it, hunkered in a corner on a couch, I just blurted out to a couple of friends - one male, one female - my deepest secrets. I don't even remember how the subject came up. I just remember suddenly feeling embarrassed, but knew I'd be unable to stop talking once I started.

My friends both got a big smile on their face, while I told them that I'd always harbored fantasies of being a woman's slave, serving her, obeying her, kissing her feet, letting her punish me when I deserved it, going on and on about how these desires had been far stronger inside me than anything else all my life, and I just had to get up the nerve to go find some dominant woman. They were looking at each other, smiling, and I was almost too drunk to feel regret, but I could start to feel the beginnings of it creeping up on me, so to stave it off, I just kept talking. I filled in details, putting off the inevitable shameful comedown when I had to stop talking and they started their laughing, teasing, and whatever else was in store for me. Jessi smiled at Ryan, Ryan at Jessi, as I ran my mouth, now feeling the regret full force, so I wound down my femdom fantasy spiel, sputtering to a stop, face in my hands.

Peeking over my fingers, I braced myself. What came next was completely unexpected, and somewhat bewildering. Ryan just shook his head, smiling, as if thinking 'Dude, whatever, if it makes you happy, man.' But Jessi, she was biting her lips, with a knowing smile, holding something back. She pointed, as if she were going to speak, then stopped herself, then she pointed at me again, hesitated, then finally spoke.

"You...yeah, Chris...you need to...oh my god. You need to talk to Lauren!"

"Lauren?"

"Yeah, Lauren. We'll - we'll talk later."

With that, Jessi changed the subject. Mysterious! I can't for the life of me remember anything about the party after that moment. My mind was, to say the least, elsewhere. I lost track of both Ryan and Jessi, then stumbled home.

This interaction dominated my thoughts. Who was Lauren? Why did Jessi's face light up with a curious recognition at my mention of these desires? That look - what was that look all about? I saw Jessi in class the next day, but was too mortified to bring up the conversation again. Regardless, it was all I could think about, in class or anywhere else.

A few days later, Jessi crossed paths with me on campus. I said hello nonchalantly, still too scared to raise the subject. I just made small talk, and pretended that the conversation had never happened. I wanted to ask her all about what she had been talking about, when we would "talk later," but I was scared. Jessi raised the subject for me.

"Ready to meet Lauren?"

"The mysterious Lauren?"

"She said she'd meet with you. Hold on."

She pulled out her phone, and sent a few texts while I waited, suddenly even more nervous. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I felt exposed. I was embarrassed now that Jessi knew this secret about me. But out here, in the middle of campus, a crowd of students walking every way around us on the wide path, while she texted about me with someone I didn't know, supposedly about this, well, exposed wasn't strong enough to describe what I was feeling. I wanted to vomit. I felt light-headed. Had that conversation been such a good idea? Jessi interrupted my thoughts.

"She's at the library. She said she'll meet you right now. Let's go."

I followed along, extremely anxious. What was happening? It was as if I didn't have a choice. No asking me "So do you want to meet her?" and no explanation of who she was. Just "let's go." So why, I wondered, was I just following along, doing as I was told? It was as if I couldn't help it. I didn't know what to do, and couldn't begin to think of what to ask, so I just went through the motions, following Jessi's lead.

We walked about halfway across campus, into the library, up to the third floor study area, where everyone was spread out at tables, working on homework and projects and gossip. Suddenly I felt Jessi pull on my wrist.

"This way!"

Jessi approached a table, and I followed nervously behind. Could this be her? The young woman sitting by herself at the table, studying, looked too cute to be any sort of female domination authority on campus. I was still wound tight with nerves, and half confused, and overly self-aware in the crowded public space, especially if this was about what I thought this was about, when we stepped up to the table and I took a good look at her for the first time.

She was probably a freshman. This young woman had a pale face, extremely pale, with blonde hair. I was guessing already that she was a rich girl; already I was imagining her in a sorority. I felt bad immediately for mentally typecasting her, but she just had that look about her. She worked on her studies as I admired her cute little bob haircut and tried to read her t-shirt from some campus event. We were standing far enough from the table that I could see beneath it, noticing her black running shorts and teal-trimmed tennis shoes with ankle socks. Still ignoring us, she scratched her tiny little nose. I took a deep breath. Jessi spoke.

"Chris, this is Lauren. She has agreed to speak with you, OK?"

The girl spoke, without even looking up at me.

"Sit down."

I felt Jessi's hand on my arm. A quick whisper, directly into my ear.

"Good luck."

Before I could even react, Jessi was gone.

I pulled out the chair, and sat. Lauren continued to work on whatever she was working on, ignoring me. I sat and waited. I looked at Lauren, this time trying not to stare too much. She was attractive, but not some sort of knockout that my friends and I would notice on campus. Just incredibly cute. When I had been watching her as Jessi and I approached, I had noticed that her toes touched the floor, but not the heels of her shoes. Admittedly, the library chairs were a bit tall, but still, Lauren was very short. That fact seemed odd to me for somebody who was, I was guessing, supposed to be dominant - I didn't know exactly why, but it did.

Lauren didn't look up often, but the few times she did, it appeared that she had light blue eyes. I didn't know where to look. I tried looking down at my hands for awhile. Then I looked around at other people, but that felt sort of rude, so I looked at Lauren for a bit more. It only took a second or two before I felt as if I were staring, so I looked back down at my hands. I'd been waiting for at least ten minutes. Lauren hadn't spoken a word, or even acknowledged me. I felt even more strange than before.

Another minute went by, then another. And another ticked past painfully slowly. After maybe five more, Lauren spoke. She slid one of her books diagonally across the table toward me.

"Page 137 through page 144. Take this to the copy room. Make a quality copy of each of them. You do have your Student ID with you, correct?"

"Yes, I..."

"Then go."

I stood, and walked a bit self-consciously to the next floor. I found the copy room, and found an unused copier. God, this felt weird. I inserted my ID, paying for Lauren's copies. I was careful to make each copy perfectly, aligning the book just so, making sure the contrast was set just right. Finished, I stacked the copies in order, and placed them in the book at page 137.

Walking quickly back down to the table, I wondered if I should say anything to Lauren. I decided not to. I didn't think she wanted me to speak. I didn't know what to do. So I just carefully, unobtrusively, set the book down at the edge of Lauren's workspace, careful not to interrupt her, then walked around the corner of the table, and again took my seat, and waited. Lauren noticed me, but didn't say a word. She took the book, opened it, and began writing on the copies I'd made.

Again, I didn't know where to look, so I decided to choose a space - my hands on the table in front of me. I wouldn't let my eyes wander. I decided I should be disciplined about it. So I looked directly forward at my hands, and I told myself I wouldn't take my gaze from that point until Lauren spoke again. So I waited, and waited longer. Five minutes went by, then another five.

While my body was still, my thoughts were racing. Was this what submission was like? How long would this go on? What exactly was she planning to talk about, and when? I noticed that my hands were trembling. Still more time went by.

"The cafeteria in the basement. Go down there and buy me a bottle of water."

I started to say something. I didn't know what to say, but I was about to say "OK," or "Yes," when Lauren interrupted me.

"No talking. Just do it."

I quickly stood, and walked toward the stairs. I took a very deep breath. Why was this so unsettling? This was what I wanted, right? To serve and obey? It was odd, though - all the waiting. And in all this time, even when talking to me, Lauren hadn't yet looked at me directly - not once. Her attitude had a way of keeping me so off balance, I couldn't begin to describe it. It was almost a relief to hear conversation and normal sounds in the cafeteria.

And what was I doing here, anyway? Was I even supposed to be serving Lauren? Jessi, after I'd told her about my submissive desires, had simply told me that I "needed to talk to Lauren." Then, out of the blue, right after class, she told me that this Lauren had "agreed to talk to me," and brought me here. So here I was. But was I in some arrangement where I was supposed to be serving her? Or were we just going to talk about it? She certainly seemed to be bossing me around, that was for sure. But I didn't have even the beginning of any answers. I felt even stranger as I thought about it, and everything in the cafeteria seemed oppressively loud.

I bought the water, on my account, and quickly carried it back upstairs. Again, I didn't speak. I quietly set it on the table, at the edge of Lauren's workspace, then sat back down in my chair, and waited.

I practiced looking at my hands without looking elsewhere. For some reason, I sensed that was what Lauren would want, though I had no way to know this. Occasionally, I glanced up at her. She was busy at work. I had plenty to do myself, some of which was in my backpack beside me. I didn't dare ask if I was allowed to work on it. Somehow, I just knew the answer to that question would be "no."

I tried to sit as still as possible, but it wasn't easy. The chair was wooden, hard, and after sitting in it for a long time, I wanted to stand up and walk around, or at least slouch, fidget, or move a bit. Lauren would occasionally stretch, cross one leg over the other, bop it up and down, and twist it a little. If I started to fidget, Lauren didn't exactly look at me, but glanced my way with some sort of quick, disapproving look, that I interpreted as meaning I was supposed to sit still. So I tried to do so. And my butt ached.

At least twenty more minutes went by. It was late afternoon now, almost dark.

"How old are you?"

I was shocked that she spoke. It seemed like an odd question. Lauren still wasn't looking at me. I looked at her though.

"I'm twenty, Lauren."

She looked at me for the first time. Lauren held me with a stare, then her face drew into a slight smirk.

"Not embarrassed to obey an eighteen year old. Good boy!"

Where was she going with all this? Nowhere I could see, as she just looked back down and continued to work.

A minute later though, Lauren had another question. This time, she didn't bother looking up.

"Major?"

"Chemical Engineering, Lauren."

"And which dorm?"

"I live in Smith, Lauren."

Lauren went back to her work, and I continued to wait. Her voice was cute. It was a little bit high, just a bit but not too much. And it was slightly crackly. What was that called? Vocal fry? I waited a bit longer.

"So how long have you known?"

The question took me off guard. Lauren didn't look up, or even pause in her work. She was still writing diligently. I didn't have any idea what she meant, or what to say.

"Known...what? Who?"

"You know. How long, Chris?"

"I'm...sorry, Lauren. I don't know how to answer. I'm sorry."

I was so confused. I was nervous too. My hands were starting to shake. I wondered what to say. Lauren just kept working for a long minute. I thought and thought, desperately wondering how to answer, but not wanting to say the wrong thing. Finally, Lauren set down her pen, put her hands flat on the table, turned her cute little face directly toward mine, and held me with a very serious stare. She spoke, slowly, as if I were too stupid to understand her otherwise.

"Chris. I want to know. Right now. How long have you known that you are a slave?"

For just a minute, I think I felt my heart stop beating. I might have gasped. It was as if someone had looked straight through me, and saw me for who I was. I suddenly felt very cold, and started shivering. I'd never talked to anyone about this in detail, at least not while sober.

Lauren held me with her gaze as I panicked. She hadn't said "wanted to be a slave." She spoke as if slavery was something that a person simply discovers about themself, something that isn't chosen. I felt like I was going to come undone. Lauren was still staring at me, unmoving, unsmiling, unblinking, waiting for an answer.

"Well, Lauren..."

I tried to speak, but found that I couldn't.

"Take your time."

I took a couple of deep breaths.

"Lauren, well, you see, from the time I started noticing girls, I, um, I started having fantasies about girls being in charge. They've been my most common fantasy since then. I'm certain I've known since at least then."

"You've always known that girls were better than you, haven't you?"

I took a very deep breath, then swallowed, hard.

"Yes, Lauren. I have."

I was shaking, hard.

"So...You've been at college for two years now. Have you tried to find someone to serve?"

I closed my eyes, then opened them.

"No, Lauren. Not yet."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, Lauren. I guess I've been scared to actually admit it to anyone - that this is really what I want with my life. And I guess I didn't actually know who to admit it to, either."

"Well, Chris. Now you have me. I'm here to help you. And I have one more question before we go."

"What's that, Lauren?"

"Are you ready to obey?"

Her unsmiling stare still held me. I almost expected a little smile, or some softening in her expression to break the tension, but it wasn't coming. I didn't know it was possible for someone so cute to look so deadly serious. It chilled me. It would have given anyone the shakes.

I smiled slightly, so very nervous.

"Yes, Lauren. Yes I am."

Lauren looked at me as if she were deciding for herself whether I was being honest. I thought I might have heard the slightest little sound from her closed mouth, as if she weren't sure. She picked up her pen, clicked it a few times, and began working again, ignoring me. So I sat, watching her for a minute. After that, I again tried to look down at my hands. I was sweating - I felt a cold trickle down each side. I felt my breath, shaky. Ten more minutes went by, maybe fifteen. Finally, Lauren started packing up her papers and books, putting them into her own backpack. She stood, slinging it over her shoulder.

As soon as she was on her feet, Lauren half-glanced back at me, and snapped her fingers.

"Come."

I stood quickly, and felt dizzy from having sat for so long. And also, I assumed, from sheer nervousness. This still felt so very weird. Very disorienting. I followed Lauren, a step behind her, out of the library and into the early evening. She walked, I followed. Yes, she was much shorter than I was. She walked quickly, though. For the most part, she didn't speak. I was getting used to being ignored. At each turn, I quickly adjusted my step to stay with her. We turned toward South Campus. If we were headed toward her dorm, then Lauren lived across campus from me.

As we approached her side of campus, Lauren finally spoke.

"Almost there, Chris. You wouldn't believe how many guys in your situation, when I first talk with them, try to make small talk, or keep having a conversation with me. Like they think they're my equal or something."

We walked a few steps further. I figured I shouldn't say anything, though her words shook me. I simply followed, trying my best to keep pace with her, directly beside and behind Lauren. The sounds of campus were almost jarring after the silence of the library, conversations of people passing us, traffic at the occasional street we crossed, music from open dorm windows. I kept pace, but felt much more self-conscious now, following obsequiously behind this girl, obeying her in public. Even if no one knew exactly what was happening, it just felt embarrassing.

"I'm glad you seem to be able to sense, in my presence, when you're supposed to shut up. It was actually kind of nice sitting there working, with you waiting for me. I get the feeling that you're a guy who knows his place, Chris. I hope I'm right."

Her words hit me hard. As much as what she said stung, it was exciting hearing it. I just followed Lauren, into the Highland Complex. I did my best to keep pace with her, anticipating each turn, as she ignored me. I didn't know this part of campus well. I'd never lived over here. There were wide sidewalks, lawns, and little well-kept patches of landscaping, rather than the urban shops and cafes that my side of campus joined up against. Lauren nodded hello to a few friends. We passed well dressed students, and plenty of fraternity and sorority t-shirts. This was the rich side of the school.