The Procurer - Origins

Thanks for reading! This is a bit of a slower burn, as much about a gradual corruption as explicit sex. It has brief mentions of cnc and rape, so it is not for everyone - but they are not discussed extensively.

I hope you enjoy.

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I couldn't believe my little sister was dragging me to a frat party.

"Amy, I am almost twenty-nine years old! I have a job - I do not need to be at a *frat*!" I protested, but we both knew it was over, and she had won.

She giggled from behind the bathroom door, where she was finishing changing.

"Well, you don't have to come, sis. You can just lie down and go to bed - it's almost seven, it must be getting late for you!"

"Ha! Mom would kill me if she found out I let you go to a party like that all alone, instead of going as your chaperone," I called back. I leaned forward toward Amy's mirror, applying my lipstick. "All those boys, trying to get their hands on you ..."

"I sure hope so!" Amy laughed. "It has been a loooong, loooong semester, girl, and I am ready to get-"

"Stop!" I cut her off. "Stop, please, I'm begging you." I admired myself in the mirror, striking a couple of poses.

"Railed, fucked, bent over and taken..." Amy said, enjoying how much it drove me crazy - she knew I had a hard time balancing seeing her as an adult and as my baby sister.

"Stop!" I wailed, uselessly.

"I need to be cocked up and dicked down," she continued lewdly. "I need to be someone's cumdump, filled up with man-meat, and drilled."

I tried to change the subject. "Ugh, there's no way I'm going to fit in with you and your younger friends. This is crazy."

Amy emerged from the bathroom and gave a loud whistle, exaggeratingly looking me up and down.

"Janet, believe me when I say this ... *damn*. You're right, you aren't going to fit in - you're going to look better than anyone there!"

She was dressed in a white sparkly miniskirt, low cut black top, and high heels. Instinctually, I opened my mouth and was about to admonish her to change into something less revealing when I realized it was just what our mother would say.

"Amy ... you're going to have to fight the boys off, looking like that."

She struck a pose, pushing her chest up and out. "Again, I hope so! I'm only going to get your leftovers though. Sis, you look *hot* - no one is going to care if you're a couple years older."

I was visiting Amy as I passed through town on my way home from a work trip, so I hadn't packed any clothes for partying or going out. I was wearing a nice pair of work pants that I knew made my thighs and ass look good, and I had squeezed into one of Amy's tops. It felt weird to be getting dolled up for a party like this again - I hadn't done much of that in my own college days, which were now years behind me. But Amy was dead set on it, and I wasn't about to let her go alone.

"Come on, let's go!" she cried, grabbing me by the wrist and racing out of her room.

I grilled her as we walked across campus from her dorm room toward the frats and sororities a few blocks away.

"You know how to keep yourself safe at this kind of thing, right, Amy?" I asked.

"Yes, MOM. I'm only making my own drinks, never accepting ones offered to me," Amy said, rolling her eyes. "Not drinking too much. Staying in public, no back rooms. Never leaving my drink unattended."

I could see the flashing lights and feel the bass before we got to the frat door.

"I'm sorry - it's hard to stop thinking of you as my little baby sister. I'll leave you be. Just ... I'm around if you want to go, or anything, ok? And let me know if you are going to leave, ok?"

"And I promise I'll use protection before I let seven strangers fuck me into next week," she laughed.

Amy tugged the frat door open without knocking. Inside, the only lights I could see were from a couple of disco balls set up, sending beams of light skittering across the dance floor. The furniture of the living room had been pushed to the sides to make more room for the dancers, and the floor was currently packed with a sea of bodies.

"Lighten up, have some fun, have a drink!" Amy yelled over the pumping bass. "Get laid, girl! You broke up with what's-his-face like four years ago!" She pushed me forward toward the dance floor as she made her way down a hallway toward the back of the house, presumably toward the kitchen to get a drink.

I wanted to protest - but she was right. It had been quite some time since I had broken up with my last ex, Matt. As I made my way onto the dance floor and several attractive fratboys made room for me, giving me an approving glance up and down, I realized I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a good lay - it certainly hadn't been a common occurrence with Matt.

I tried to dance for a few songs, hoping I'd get into some old rhythm, but I couldn't get into it. I didn't know these songs, and looking around, I didn't know any of these people. Everyone was nice enough and I caught some of the guys checking me out, but I still felt like they could tell I didn't belong here. After about ten minutes or so I was ready to give up and go find my younger sister.

I made my way toward the kitchen, where I found her drinking and chatting up two attractive football players. They seemed to be vying for her attention, each trying to one-up the other, and as I poured myself a drink I saw she was up to her old, favorite move: pretending she didn't know exactly what she was up to. Amy and I had similar bodies, but she had always been more comfortable using hers than I was.

When I was first visiting home from college, I found her - still in high school, mind you - batting her eyes and giving a peek of leg to boys for whatever favors she needed done. She could string them along with a hint of cleavage, putting her generous Cs to good work for her. Her favorite move was to flirt with some guy, make him think he had a chance, and then play dumb and innocent after he had moved the heavens and the earth for her.

These football dorks probably thought she was some young, innocent freshman who would fall for every line in the book. But that couldn't be further from the truth - if she let either of these meatheads get anywhere, it had been her idea ... and she would eat them alive.

The jocks turned toward each other for a moment, and she took the opportunity to wink at me over her cup and pull her shirt down a little to emphasize "the girls." I shook my head in mock-disapproval.

"No, I actually haven't heard of that. What did you call it? A 'blowjob'?" Amy asked.

The jocks traded a glance and started to smile. I rolled my eyes - I wanted to step in and stop them. This was my baby sister, after all. It was my job to protect her, and the last thing I wanted to think about was some football jock putting his hands (and who knew what else) all over her.

Just then, I turned toward the door - it seemed like there was a bit of commotion. I could hear some people yelling.

"Get the fuck out, man!"

"Fucking weirdo - we told you already!"

I left Amy in the kitchen and went down the hall to see what was going on.

There was a man standing in the doorway. He seemed out of place for the party - he was wearing a navy three-piece suit, and older than I was. He looked like he was pushing fifty years old, and his well-trimmed beard was just starting to turn gray at the temples.

Several of the fratboys seemed to recognize him, and dislike him. They had joined together in a wall, crowding around him to try to push him out.

"No one over fucking seventy in the party, man!"

The man just smiled. He didn't seem fazed by their heckling, or the fact the group seemed on the edge of getting violent. We locked eyes as I made my way down the hallway, and suddenly my head was filled with all sorts of lewd thoughts. I realized it had been so long since I'd had a man's mouth on my breasts. It seemed a waste, really - I had a pretty great rack, and I should be sharing the girls with the world.

Where had that come from?

I shook my head and pushed my way through to the front of the crowd until I stood in front of the stranger. He smiled, and his eyes seemed to flash - I thought I saw a green pulse for half an instant, emanating from his eyes and spreading through the air toward me. It washed over the others in the crowd, then me, and then dissipated. I shook my head and blinked a few times, then kept approaching, looking to smooth things out.

Thankfully, the fratboys had calmed down by the time I got there. They were done shouting, and were stepping back to allow the man into the house. He smiled at me and stook out his hand for me to shake.

"Hello! I'm Christopher."

I shook his hand, saying, "Janet. I'm a lawyer at Pierce, Nomen, and Jacobs. Was there some sort of issue here?"

The man chuckled. I noticed he had a wide, mirthful smile - he seemed like a friendly guy, like a kindly parent of a friend or a favorite teacher. I had been on high alert but immediately felt myself relaxing some.

"Oh, no, no, I don't think we have any issue here. Do we, boys?"

He glanced around at several of the gathered fratboys. Several of the larger guys were wearing their football jerseys and looked like they had been ready for a tussle, but seemed to have relaxed.

"No, no problem," they all said in unison.

I looked at the guys. Had they practiced that? Their voices sounded almost monotone - combined with them speaking in unison, it felt more than a little weird.

"Good, good, I'm glad we don't have a problem," Christopher said. "Say, boys, why don't you go ahead and wait outside?"

I watched in astonishment as the fratboys began to silently make their way out of the house and onto the lawn. Christopher smiled at me again as the last of them stepped out and shut the door. Looking at him, I felt like I could see deep into his eyes. It was almost like he didn't have eyes and I was seeing all the way to the back of his skull, somehow. I saw a deep, deep green.

"Janet, was it?" he asked.

I felt like I was coming back to the surface after sinking to the bottom of a pool. For a moment everything moved slowly - I was treading through molasses. I shook my head again, collecting my thoughts.

"Yes, Janet," I said, smiling back. "Come, let me get you a drink!"

I grabbed his hand and began leading him down the hall toward the kitchen. As I walked, I realized that I was giving Christopher a great view of my ass. He was right behind me - I knew these pants hugged my ass tight and made it look fantastic. It was a good thing I saw him like a friend of my father's, or else I could imagine another man looking at me with lecherous eyes. If it were a fratboy instead of Christopher, I could imagine what he'd be thinking ... his eyes tracing up and down my legs and ass ... he'd probably be thinking about bending me over a table ... pressing his hips into mine from behind ... thinking of me as nothing but a piece of meat ...

I bit my lip to stop myself from moaning.

It was a good thing Christopher would never look at a woman like that. I was his respected equal, I knew.

We made our way back down the hallway to the kitchen where I had left my sister with the two football players earlier. Amy was alone now, and looked disappointed.

"They just took off!" Amy whined as we came around the corner. "I was gonna get them both, and they just fucking left without a word!"

She gestured toward the back door. With a glance, I could see the two guys Amy had been working on standing motionless in the backyard, along with several other guys.

That seemed odd. I turned back toward Christopher.

"Christopher, didn't you ask the guys to wait outside, just a moment ago?" I asked. Something strange seemed to be going on here. "Do you think - "

For just the briefest moment I thought perhaps I saw another green pulse emanate from Christopher's eyes. It was gone before I noticed it. Really, it didn't make sense that I could have seen anything - people's eyes don't just send out light.

I realized it was a stupid question and I shouldn't bother worrying about why all the guys had left without a word. It just made sense for Christopher to be the only man in a frathouse full of women there to party - that was unremarkable as the sun rising in the morning.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts and noticed Amy do the same. She turned toward Christopher with a smile.

I finished my question, resuming my speech as if no time had passed at all, " - my sister Amy is pretty?"

Amy struck a mock pose, pretending as if she were trying to show her body off to this nice, friendly man. It wasn't like he would ever look at her sexually - he was harmless, an old family friend.

"Yes, she's very pretty," Christopher agreed, looking Amy up and down.

If he hadn't been such a harmless old friend, I might have thought he was having impure thoughts. He looked hungry, the way I'd seen less respectful look at women when all they were thinking of was licking, sucking, fucking ...

Amy stepped forward and introduced herself. She shook his hand, then stepped closer and gave him a big hug. From the side I could see her breasts flattened as she pressed herself against him. Christopher's hands rested on her waist, then slid down to her hips.

"Amy, it's great to meet you," he said. "I think we're going to have a lot of fun together."

My little sister pulled back from the hug and looked up at the older man. She smiled. It wasn't her usual laughing smile, or her flirtatious one. She looked embarrassed but pleased, like a young teenager being noticed by her crush for the first time. I hadn't seen her look like that in years.

I went to the drink cart and began to make Christopher a drink. As I did, several of the other women at the party came in to say hello. I thought I saw another pulse or two of green light, but then I realized it had to just be from the disco balls in the living room / dance floor.

It was nice to have someone like Christopher around, we all realized soon. Someone who we could really *talk* to. He was very generous and didn't seem to mind all the women speaking to him. He was soon encircled by several rows of women in their early twenties, hanging on his every word, the only man in sight or on their minds, but he was so nice he wasn't bothered.

Everyone could tell that he was doing us all a favor by being there, and we all knew that with every question and answer, we owed him a greater and greater debt. Surely a man of Christopher's age had things he'd rather be doing, but he was nice enough to make time for us. Soon, the girls turned the conversation to a sexual nature - it was so rare to be able to speak with a man who wasn't just trying to get in our pants, we all wanted to take advantage of the rare opportunity.

"I can't seem to meet any guys," complained one woman. She was wearing a rather revealing outfit of a thin T-shirt stretched across her large chest and a pair of shorts that left most of her long thighs uncovered. "All they want is - "

Christopher cut her off, saying, "It's probably because you're dressed like a prude, sorry. You should probably try showing a little more skin, and you'll find the good guys you're looking for."

The woman glanced down and pulled a face. She immediately set her drink down and pulled her tight Tshirt off, leaving her standing in just her bra. She looked back at Christopher as if looking for approval. It was strange - it was almost like she wanted him to think her breasts were attractive, but of course that couldn't be. Christopher was too old for her, and would never think of any of us like that.

He just stayed still, smiling gently, staring the woman in the eyes. A moment passed, then another, and the woman suddenly started moving again. She reached behind her and undid her bra, tossing it aside and setting her large breasts free. They bounced gently as they were released.

I felt like I could really see the appeal of a nice pair of breasts - a "rack," as guys would say - for the first time. For a moment I could imagine myself as a man, this woman naked above me. She could guide my hands up and I could squeeze her breasts, feel the weight of them in my hand. I could see her leaning forward to guide one of those delicious-looking melons to my mouth.

"There, isn't that better?" Christopher asked. The woman nodded, and he smiled.

"Can you help me?" asked another woman. "My name is Heather."

She stepped forward. I had never been attracted to women at all, but even I had to admit she was a stunner. She had long brown hair that framed her attractive face. She had a small nose, pretty eyes, and thick, full lips - the kind I'd heard men refer to as "dick sucking lips." I could imagine her, on her knees, a man's hard cock in her mouth - those thick lips wrapped around a shaft must feel like heaven for the man.

"I'd be happy to, dear. What seems to be the problem?" Christopher asked.

He looked her up and down. She was wearing black yoga pants that looked painted on, they were so tight. She had been wearing a hoodie, but took it off when Christopher had suggested to the first woman that she was dressing too frumpy. She was left in just a revealing camisole. She probably hadn't planned on wearing it in public, I thought, just under the hoodie.

"I've always ... um ... this is kind of embarrassing to ask out loud," Heather said, her face flushed.

"It's ok, sweetie. It's just you girls and little old me - and you know an old man like me would never have untoward thoughts about you," smiled Christopher.

Another pulse of green light washed over all of us.

"Ehh, I don't know - I've heard plenty of stories of romance between some young girl and one of their dad's friends," someone said.

"Yeah, you're kinda hot, Christopher."

"I'd fuck you!" someone cried out, and everyone started laughing.

Everyone started chiming in, but Christopher was such a gentleman he just waved them off. He had around two dozen young, sexy women, all saying how attractive he was, and he wasn't thinking of any of us sexually at all. "What a good guy," I thought.

"Please, Heather - what did you need help with?" Christopher asked the woman when the crowd had calmed down.

"I ... I've always had a fantasy, and I don't know how to make it come real," Heather started. "The thought of someone - an older man, maybe - forcing me ... it's so hot." She paused and looked directly at Christopher. He held eye contact. The tension seemed to leave her body and she relaxed her face. The emotion left her face and she continued in monotone. "I want an older man to rape me. I want to be fucked and dominated totally by a stranger. Tell me - how can I be better rape bait?"

Christopher was very considerate - he immediately thought of how he could help make her fantasy a reality. He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped a few buttons, then held it out to the woman, still not breaking eye contact.

"Why don't you give me your contact info, my dear - if I think of a way for that to come true for you, I'll let you know," he said, smiling.

He had such a nice smile. But a new emotion came over me as I watched this stunning woman give Christopher her information: jealousy. The earlier comment from one of the other women stuck with me: it was far from unheard of for a younger woman to have a fling with an older man. A friend of the family, a parent's coworker ... why wouldn't someone have a romance with someone like that? Christopher was so distinguished, so elegant and refined ... I was sure my parents would love it if I were to bring someone like him home to meet them.

"Make sure you include your address, too," Christopher told Heather reassuringly.

She smiled and her fingers flew across the phone screen, clicking away. Her eyes never left Christopher's.