The Scholarship Ch. 04bypixie2002©
Author's Note: This chapter seemed to get longer and longer as I wrote it, so I decided to divide it into two parts. The next part has already been written, and will be submitted immediately after this one. So there won't be the long wait that my patient readers have had to endure until I finally got around to completing this latest installment. Thanks so much to everyone for your understanding and support.
Well, the time had finally come—the time when I'd meet Miranda Steele once again and do god-knows-what to cause her to renew my scholarship.
The letter I'd found in my mailbox last night was matter-of-fact. "Please report to the private aviation hanger at Midway Airport at 4:00 p.m. Friday, November 18. You will be flown to meet Ms. Steele for your interview."
Those instructions were followed by some more that made me stop and wonder. "Ms. Steele has instructed me to advise you not to bring any luggage with you, only your purse. Any necessary clothing or personal care items will be provided upon your arrival."
It was clear that Miranda was planning to maintain complete control over me during this upcoming "interview," even to the extent of selecting what clothes I would (or would not) wear during our meeting.
"God, what a manipulative bitch," I thought to myself, even as I felt a little tingle deep in my belly. I wondered how it was possible to feel dread and arousal at the same time. "Oh my god," was all I could think. "Oh . . . my . . . god!"
November 18 was just two days away, so I only had a short time to steel myself and prepare mentally for what was likely to come over the weekend. Actually, I knew that there was really no way to prepare myself because I had no idea what this second interview with Miranda would bring.
Clearly, I was totally unprepared for our first encounter that first week of school when she coerced me into fucking myself on her black leather boots in return for a $10,000 scholarship to pay the tuition for my senior year at Midwestern State University. I was equally unprepared for the arousal and need that the whole experience had created inside me.
I had always been the "good girl," sexually inexperienced, studious. But Miranda had unleashed something inside that scared me and turned me on all at the same time. I'd spent the two months since our first meeting trying to forget about that experience with Miranda. Or at least trying to forget how much I enjoyed it. But, in fact, the more I tried to forget it, the more it lingered on my mind.
So how could I possibly know what to expect at this second interview? My orders to report to the airport undoubtedly meant that Miranda was going to fly me somewhere. I was to bring no clothes or personal items of my own, so she was obviously going to dress and groom me. Once that airplane left the ground on Friday, I would be owned by Miranda Steele until she decided to release me.
And, god help me, I could hardly wait for Friday to get here.
I was eager for Friday to arrive for another reason. I needed to get away. For several weeks now, my roommate, Marni, and I had been studiously avoiding each other, even though we'd continued to live in the same room. And it was getting very uncomfortable.
We'd silently worked out our own system whereby Marni would leave early in the morning, while I pretended still to be asleep. Then I would come back to the room late at night as she pretended to be asleep. We were acting like a couple of silly adolescents, angry with each other and not knowing exactly how to get things between us back to where they should be.
Actually I was more humiliated than angry, humiliated that Marni had discovered that I'd snooped in her panty drawer, found her marvelous black dildo, and used it to fuck myself to one of the best orgasms of my life. What she hadn't discovered was that I had been thinking of her, lusting for her, as I plunged that huge cock in and out of me, imagining it was she who was fucking me.
Unfortunately, when Marni returned to the room unexpectedly just as I had cum, I only had time to quickly toss the toy, which was all slick with my juices, back into her drawer. It wasn't long before she discovered that not only had I snooped in her drawer, I had used this very personal item of hers.
The next day, after she'd realized my indiscretion, she'd left a note on my bed, expressing her disappointment at my behavior. Even though I knew she had every right to be angry, the tone of her note—yes, even the fact that she had written it in the first place—created a wall of embarrassment and anger that still separated us several weeks later.
So, the opportunity to get away from this uncomfortable situation with Marni for a few days was attractive, even if it meant I would be surrendering myself to Miranda Steele once again, a thought that filled me with both fear and anticipation.
I could hardly sleep Thursday night. I lay in bed wondering what the next few days would bring, and it was all that I could do to force myself to feign sleep as Marni got ready for class early Friday morning. I had pulled the covers over my head as usual. But this morning, I had managed to leave a little opening through which I could observe Marni as she went about her morning routine.
As usual, she returned from the communal bathroom down the hall with a towel wrapped around her. And, also as usual, she dropped it almost immediately upon entering the room, revealing the voluptuous body that I had been dreaming about, fantasizing about, ever since I first heard her masturbating in the dark of our dorm room.
Her short auburn hair was wet from the shower, and was still dripping little droplets of water on her shoulders, chest, and back. Looking closely, I could see the beads making their way over her wondrous breasts, which I now knew to be 36-D, after snooping through her lingerie. Her nipples were erect from the cool air playing across them, and her dark pink areolas were about the size of silver dollars.
A few freckles adorned the creamy skin of her chest and played across her nose, giving her that cute, girl-next-door look. But a very beautiful girl-next-door.
Marni was just so lovely and natural as she stood there drying her short hair with the towel, her back turned to me so I could admire her long shapely legs and the sensuous curve of her bottom. I loved the way her muscles tensed and flexed as she first reached her arms up to hold the towel, then reached down to dry the lower part of her body more completely.
As she bent fully over to dry her legs, an involuntary sigh escaped me as I caught a glimpse of her slit from behind. As I lay there on my stomach admiring Marni, I realized that I had unconsciously slipped my right hand underneath me and had begun slowly cupping, then releasing my pussy mound. I could feel the wet spot that was beginning to soak through my cotton panties, and I pressed the fabric into my crease with my middle finger, being careful not to move or make a sound.
Marni was always considerate enough not to turn on the overhead light early in the morning, and she managed to get herself ready by the light of a small lamp on top of her bureau and her lighted makeup mirror. This allowed my side of the room to remain in the shadows, while the light played over her with almost a spotlight effect.
As she turned to face my bed, I could see the little landing strip just above her pubic mound, which she must have trimmed and shaped that morning in the shower. She paused just a moment, running both hands over her breasts, then down below her belly to caress the soft hair that she had spared from the razor.
The thought flashed through my mind that she was "performing" for me, and I could feel the damp spot grow larger under my hand. More fabric was slipping inside me, encouraged by my finger, which was now straining to put the right amount of pressure on my clitoris.
But soon, Marni had turned her back to me again and slipped her beautiful legs into her pink thong and pulled it up until the thin fabric nestled up to her little rosebud and disappeared altogether. By now, my hips were moving almost imperceptibly as I quietly humped my hand.
I began to lose myself in the lovely sensations that had started to flow sensuously through my body, and before I knew it, I heard the door close. I looked around carefully and saw that the room was almost dark again, lit only by the early morning sun trying to filter through the tightly-closed blinds on our single window. Marni was gone.
Alone in the room, I now had a decision to make. Would I go with this state of arousal that Marni had helped build in me and enjoy a badly-needed orgasm? Or would I get out of bed now, while I still had the chance to make it to my first class of the day?
Playing the role of the good girl and dedicated student that I had once thought myself to be, I opted for class. I reluctantly rolled out of bed and prepared to meet the new day. The day that I would see Miranda Steele face to face once again.
I spent a little extra time picking out what I would wear on Friday, knowing that at least part of it would likely be on display. I paid special attention to my lingerie, choosing a light blue lacy bra with natural cups that were cut in a deep vee and barely covered my areolas. I nestled my firm, round breasts into the cups, then slid on the matching thong.
As I stood there admiring myself in the mirror, noticing how erect my nipples were, I thought to myself, "My god, Sarah, you're on your way to be humiliated and very possibly abused later today, and you're dressing up like you're on your way to a fucking party!"
Such was the jumble of emotions I'd been feeling ever since my first "interview" with Miranda Steele. I hated her for dredging up some pretty sick and perverted feelings from deep in my psyche. But, at the same time, I loved the excitement that those dark emotions created. They moved me to my very core and left me wanting—no, craving—to feel them again.
I spent less time with my other clothes, slipping on a tight pair of jeans that molded to my figure and accentuated the rounded bottom that I'd been working so hard to sculpt on the StairMaster. I pulled a wool turtleneck sweater over my head, fluffed my curly hair back out and was almost ready to go. Except for one last thing.
I reached into my closet and pulled out a pair of black leather boots that I'd bought a couple of weeks ago for just this occasion. I couldn't help but smile a little bit as I pulled one on, then the other. The soft leather caressed my calves almost to the knee. I felt taller and more powerful as I stood there and admired the way the three-inch heels made my hips thrust out sensuously.
"Let's see how Miranda likes a little of her own medicine," I thought. Then I grabbed my coat and headed out to my first class.
The day just crawled by, but finally it was 3:30 and I was through for the week, leaving just enough time to make it to the airport by the appointed 4:00 hour. A friend from my last class had agreed to drive me, and my heart was beating noticeably faster as we approached the airport.
Midwestern State University is situated in the City of Springfield, population about 40,000, including the students enrolled on campus. The town is too small to have scheduled airline service, but it does have a nice little airport to accommodate the private jets that fly in and out carrying executives visiting several local manufacturing plants.
I'd been told that the runway could even accommodate larger commercial aircraft, should the need arise, including times when the football team chartered flights to distant road games. But there was certainly not the bustling terminal that was a staple of most big-city airports.
As we pulled along the curved drive in front of the small, almost deserted terminal, I noticed a sign that read "Private Aviation" on the large metal building next door. I instructed my friend to drop me in front, hopped out of the car, and headed for who knows what.
As soon as I walked through the front door, I could see that the large hangar doors at the rear had been opened, providing a good view of the runway beyond. Five or six men were huddled together in a knot, talking in low tones and pointing to the aircraft resting on the taxiway. And it was certainly worth staring at!
It looked like a giant bird of prey resting there on the tarmac. The entire fuselage was painted a glossy black, broken only by the bright chrome bands on the rear of the two jet engines that nestled on either side of the sweeping tail that thrust up from the rear of the aircraft. Looking more closely, I could see four round windows on the side, but the tinting was so dark that it made them almost disappear into the black body.
The graceful wings swept from the front of the plane, almost to the rear, and the tip of each one reached up at a 45-degree angle, giving the sense that the aircraft was very fast, even while sitting quietly on the ground.
Suddenly, I no longer felt so powerful standing there in my new black boots. Leave it to Miranda to intimidate me even with the plane she sent to pick me up!
As the group of men heard the click of my heels on the concrete floor, all eyes turned toward me and stared, as if they were expecting me to do some kind of trick. When it was clear that I had no tricks up my sleeve, one of them broke away from the pack and approached me.
"Are you Sarah Robbins?"
"Yes, I am."
"You must be pretty damned important, girl! We don't get a Gulfstream IV in here once a year. Who the hell are you, anyway?"
Thankfully, I didn't have to answer that question, and it's a good thing because I really didn't know who the hell I was at that moment. About that time a young woman strode up to us, took me by the arm, and began leading me toward the airplane.
"Hello, Sarah," she said without breaking stride, "I'm Rachel Green, personal assistant to Ms. Steele."
"Yes, I recognize your name from the letter you sent me."
It didn't surprise me at all that Miranda's personal assistant was very attractive, and Rachel was all that and more. She was several inches taller than my 5-3, probably at least 5-7. She had the graceful, willowy figure of a dancer with pert breasts and beautiful long legs.
Her light brown hair was piled neatly on top of her head, giving her a professional look, but I could imagine how sexy she would be if she wore it in a more relaxed style, to frame her sensuous full lips and large green eyes.
I struggled to keep pace with Rachel's long strides, and soon enough we had crossed the 50 yards from the hangar and stood at the door of the aircraft. It seemed much larger and even more intimidating at close range. Just idling, the low-pitched purring of the two jet engines gave a clear indication of their power.
"I have to make arrangements back at the hangar to pay for our re-fueling," Rachel told me. "Just go on in and sit anywhere you feel comfortable. This shouldn't take more than a few minutes."
As I climbed the steps leading to the door near the front of the aircraft, my eyes had not adjusted well enough from the bright afternoon sun to allow me to make out much detail inside the dim cabin. To my right was the flight deck, where I assumed one or two pilots were checking the instruments behind a door that had already been pulled shut. To my left was the passenger cabin, which was growing clearer as my eyes began to adjust.
On either side of the center aisle sat a grouping of four seats, two facing forward and two backward. Further back, two couches faced each other across the aisle, apparently providing seating for six more passengers.
"Fourteen seats and it's just Rachel and me," I thought to myself. Suddenly I felt quite alone, and very apprehensive about what lay ahead.
As my eyes adjusted further, I could see that the interior of the cabin was painted a steely grey, with carpeting to match. The chairs and couches were made of burgundy leather. I reached out to feel the high back of one of the chairs and realized someone was sitting in it!
The chair swiveled around to face me. "Hi, Sarah, "a voice said, as blue grey eyes looked at me sheepishly.
"My god, Marni! What the fuck are you doing here?!"
"Sit down, Sarah. We need to talk."
I didn't wait for Marni's invitation, as my knees nearly buckled from the combination of surprise, apprehension and total bewilderment. I held on to the back of a leather seat as I carefully made my way around it and sank into the seat next to Marni.
"All right, one more time. What's going on here?" I demanded.
"I guess I'm going for my scholarship interview, just like you," Marni replied, much more casually than I thought was appropriate under the circumstances.
"You're going to have to do a lot more explaining than that," I shot back. "How do you know Miranda Steele? Or do you even know her at all?"
"Well, I really don't know her, technically," Marni offered lamely. "I sort of know who she is. You've told me a little about her. You know, her dead husband was rich . . . she gave you a big scholarship for your senior year. That kind of thing. Besides, Google is a very useful tool," she smiled.
I still couldn't believe this was happening. I was on my way to being abused and humiliated again by Miranda, and now I had my clueless roommate along for the ride.
"Okay, let's start from the beginning," I told her and settled back in my seat to listen to what I expected would be an incredible story. "And, by the way, I'm glad we're talking again."
"Me, too," said Marni, as she reached over and gave my hand a little squeeze. I really wanted to hold onto her, but about that time Rachel poked her head into the cabin and told us to buckle our seatbelts and prepare for takeoff.
A member of the flight crew came out and secured the cabin door, and Rachel disappeared with him behind the door to the flight deck. In just a few seconds, the whine of the two powerful engines grew louder, and the plane began to taxi.
As the plane made its way slowly toward the end of the runway, Marni and I locked hands. This was my first time on anything besides a commercial flight, and I didn't exactly know what to expect. I could tell by the expression on Marni's face, that she felt the same way. In just a few seconds, we were being pressed hard against the backs of our seats as the plane hurtled down the runway. The engines grew even louder, when suddenly I could feel the big black jet leave the ground.
We were on our way! But where the hell were we going?!
We looked out the tinted window and saw Springfield disappear below us. Then the plane made a sharp bank toward the east and entered a much steeper climb than any I'd experienced on a commercial flight. In only a few minutes, we'd leveled off, and the whine of the engines lessened, as we reached our cruising altitude.
It was then I noticed that Marni and I were still holding hands. It felt really nice to be this close to her again, but I needed to find out what was going on. What was she doing on this flight go god-knows-where to meet Miranda Steele?
I pulled my hand away and looked hard at Marni. "Okay. Let's hear the story . . . from the beginning."
Marni took a deep breath. "A couple of weeks after school started . . . right after you'd told me about this scholarship you'd received . . . I got a telephone call from Miranda Steele. I remembered her name from when you told me about your scholarship.
"She was really nice, friendly, you know. She told me that she was very interested in making sure that you had a really good senior year."
"Yeah, right," I mumbled under my breath. Of course, I hadn't told Marni, or anyone else, what I had to do to get Miranda's scholarship. So she could only go by what Miranda told her.