Token Vengeance 08

Token Vengeance 08

By Tug Coxwell

Disclaimer: This is the last chapter of this story. The story and all characters are fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters are over 18 years old. In real life, all non-consensual sex is immoral and illegal, and not condoned by the author. Copyrights reserved. Not for publication, except on Literotica.

NEW LIFE, SAME LIFESTYLE

The five weeks before Christmas passed quickly for Kristina Thompson, formerly Rogers, but now returning to her maiden name.

Despite the oncoming final exams, when visits traditionally increased, the frequency of office visits by the freshmen males in her classes dropped to almost zero once word got out the beautiful, big-titted T.A.'s cocksucking incentives had come to a sudden halt.

Lucette still visited, seductive as ever and the fortunate recipient of Ms. Thompson's charms. Instructed to reveal to her new master every deep secret of her sordid activities while under Eric's purview, Kristina elaborated in vivid detail about her French exchange student's beguiling ways and her surrender to them.

Intrigued, as one might expect of a deviant man, Dr. Tom graciously imbued his delectable charge with a desire to continue the lesbian dalliance and capitulate whenever the Gallic siren came by her office.

Uncertain of the pretty, precocious and extremely provocative 18-year-old's true sexual orientation but enticed by her beauty and 'devil may care' attitude, Barton also hoped to have a taste of the young lady himself.

The increasingly corrupted professor even thought briefly about using the token on Lucette to secure a second exquisite trollop in an act constituting an absolute breach of ethics, but decided the girl's libido was so highly attuned naturally that use of the spell was likely unnecessary.

Instead, he encouraged Kristina to bring the bewitching French sex kitten home in hopes of at least enjoying a rousing lesbian romp between the voracious teen and her ostensibly straight older teacher. To his great pleasure, he got that and much more, as the Friday night dinner at the professor's house turned into a weekend orgy of unyielding sex and debauchery for the threesome.

"I'm pansexual," Lucette let slip after a few glasses of wine, explaining she leaned towards women but wasn't overly committed to one gender or another.

Apparently, the sassy virago favored sex in all its manifestations.

From his easy chair with a snifter of fine cognac in hand, Dr. Tom watched attentively as his submissive grad student and her assertive French lover engaged in a round of heavy necking that quickly turned into a full-on sapphic performance between the ladies' widespread legs.

Eventually, Barton released his rigid 9" cock to stroke languidly while appreciating the show.

"Oh, mon dieu," Lucette marveled longingly upon spotting the gangly, balding mid-50's professor's wondrous staff during a pause in the action to catch her breath between orgasms. "Oui, très grand."

The weekend's activities took off after the surprising revelation, with Dr. Tom finding himself the lucky recipient of the attentions of two lovely tarts -- one a voluptuous mid-thirties fuck doll compromised by the token's power, but the other a fresh, petite teenage libertine fully immersed in sex and the opportunity to exploit her professor's impressive cock.

"Magnifique!" Lucette exclaimed nursing on the older man's cockhead, trading off with her lady paramour in sucking the wondrous professor to a rapturous orgasm exceeding his most ardent fantasies.

By the time the three retired to Barton's large king-size bed well past midnight, Lucette had screamed her ecstatic pleasure riding his upright shaft zealously and he fell asleep with the insatiable European tenderly licking and suckling his spent pole in the hope of bringing it back to life one more time.

Threesomes, blowjobs, cunnilingus -- the trio never left the house that weekend exploring and enjoying each other's body in every combination and way possible.

Dr. Tom admired Lucette's fit, svelte form and pointed apple-sized tits as she easily adapted to walking about the house fully nude by Saturday morning and even joined him in the shower with a surprise visit to lather his body before dropping to her knees in the warm running water to suck him off again.

"Mon obsession," she cooed her ardent desire for the marvelous tool in her sultry accent, clearly enamored of the older man's big cock and wanting to access it whenever possible.

When Lucette left on Sunday evening, the relationship was established and regardless of the ethical concerns he had fucking an 18-year-old student, Barton knew the licentious young damsel would return again and again to feast on Kristina's flowing pussy and ride her professor's splendid cock while sharing her own delicious body to everyone's mutual gratification.

*****************************

Beyond this new development and the expansion of her relationship with the enchanting French femme, Kristina attended to her own studies and to finish teaching her classes as the holidays approached. This did not mean the soon-to-be divorcee was chaste or left alone to her own devices.

Thrilled at having a brilliant, mid-30's, big-titted, cocksucking Masters' candidate available to service his every sexual need, Kristina was far too tempting for Dr. Tomlinson to ignore -- not that he had any intentions of doing so.

Content with Eric's physical changes, the thoughtful man did nothing to alter his delectable pet's appearance or physical well-being.

As an appealing stylistic change, he did require Kristina to wear her hair in a ponytail or sometimes a top knot fashion tied up in a hair bauble letting him easily control her head whenever he either fucked her mouth, whether aggressively as he was prone to do, but also with slow, leisurely strokes at those times when he simply wanted to watch his generous shaft disappear to the base with her gags filling the room.

Otherwise, the contented professor loved her massive DD-cup jugs, naturally perfect ass and long sinewy legs just as he'd inherited them from her husband. Nonetheless, the newly dominant streak awakened by his good fortune did prompt him to make some changes to Kristina's mind, attitude and demeanor.

The academician didn't touch her intellect -- desiring a smart woman ready to meet the challenge of engaging him in scholarly debates even as he took her tight snatch on all fours while she gasped her theoretical postulations between deep, throaty breaths.

Dr. Tom didn't change her innate sense of independence and her capacity to think for herself. Nor did he whitewash her genuine feelings about the shameful deeds he required, as like Eric, he enjoyed her emotional struggle with her plight and sexual use in contradiction to her ingrained feminist sensibilities.

Even then, the imperious older man made the headstrong woman fully compliant and complacent -- doing without question whatever he said and playing the docile fuck toy to perfection whether she wanted to or not.

In short, Kristina could think for her own, but she couldn't disobey an order. She could protest it mildly or express her deep abhorrence for the demand, but she couldn't do so inordinately or make a loud disturbance.

Dr. Tomlinson's gorgeous acolyte slept with him every night, sucked his cock when told, and didn't hesitate to let him fuck the shit out of her whenever he wanted, which was frequently. At home she wore a wide black dog collar, sheer black stockings and garter topping black stiletto heels and that was it.

He kept her pussy smooth and hairless, at first performing the task himself to her utter embarrassment, with her lithe legs spread wide leaving her most intimate anatomy fully exposed and vulnerable to her respected mentor.

Ultimately, Lucette did the honors, waxing Kristina's curved mound weekly to avoid the burn of the razor in a task the Gallic undergraduate happily undertook for the reward of eating her mature T.A.'s bald snatch following the procedure.

Frequently, Dr. Tom offered Lucette the pleasure of Kristina returning the favor of a wax of the brunette hairs covering her dainty mound before a luxurious cuntlicking until the girl screamed her ecstasy in ribald French vernacular, followed by a seriously hard pounding from his gratifying 9" cock.

It wasn't until the faculty holiday party in mid-December that the esteemed scholar introduced Kristina to his colleagues in a capacity they'd never seen during her time in the graduate Anthropology program. The party was an unofficial annual tradition at Dr. Tom's home, and it was his intention to reveal his student's new status as his live-in guest to his closest confidantes.

The lovely, full-bodied Ms. Thompson had finished her studies, so any hint of impropriety for living with her professor was no longer a concern, despite still needing to complete her thesis. That milestone was to be presented before a panel and not simply a single professor, so not subject to fears of favoritism, although Dr. Tom had every intention of ensuring she'd become his fellow faculty members' favorite, nonetheless.

The first few hours of the party were as usual -- attended by most of the department and a select few graduate students chosen for their academic accomplishments. As top of her class, Kristina Thompson was among these few, but she didn't look like the down-to-earth, outdoorsy woman most knew from their daily interactions.

Gone were the rugged blue jeans, checked flannel shirts and dirty boots, replaced by a rather slinky, sexy and suggestive 'little black dress' of the type worn by ambitious starlets wanting to be noticed, along with the same stilettos she wore at home when accompanied by an even scantier costume.

The guests were all aware of Kristina's recently failed marriage. Some had even heard rumors of her scandalous behavior during the semester but accounted it simply to the emotional stress and reaction to the break-up.

No one could quite explain the sudden growth of the usually unpretentious woman's truly remarkable chest, but each was very aware she had moved in with Dr. Tomlinson, assuming perhaps a more innocent relationship based on his charitable nature and the fact she had nowhere else to go.

Such assumptions were to be dispelled on this festive evening.

"Goodness, look at you, Ms. Thompson," wide-eyed Dr. Mac gushed his enthusiasm at the appearance of the racy, voluptuous grad student upon his arrival. "I had no idea there was a lady hiding under all those baggy clothes. Quite a lady indeed."

It was the type of sexist statement that in the past raised Tina Rogers' hackles and a rebellious outcry. Internally, she seethed at his demeaning comment, wanting desperately to put the antiquated professor emeritus in his place with a not-so-subtle riposte at his temerity.

"Why thank you, kind sir," she demurely answered instead, adding a curtsey and dip of her blonde head while exposing a mountain of ripe white cleavage over the top of her deeply cut bodice that nearly sent the old man into cardiac arrest. "It's so nice to receive a compliment from such a handsome older man."

The response was all fluff and pleasantries, but it was easy to see Dr. Mac was beguiled and Kristina was acting on the submissive impulses her mentor had embedded in her psyche as an obedient hostess and temptress.

Shortly before 11:00 p.m. the main party wound down, with Dr. Tomlinson escorting all but his closely-held inner circle of friends and colleagues to the door.

"Thank you for coming everyone," he graciously wished each a good night, then offered with an intentionally discreet whisper, "and if I may be so politically incorrect, Merry Christmas."

The group was reduced to four of Barton's best friends and longtime associates -- three men and surprisingly, one woman, all of whom he knew well for over twenty years.

Dr. Mac, the wizened and respected old professor emeritus; Dean Theodore Riedell, a pudgy, ruddy-faced short late-fifties Jewish man specializing in early hominids who ran the Anthro department; and university Chancellor Dr. Darold Westcoff, a tall, graying black man in his early-fifties with an expansive waistline matching his impressive height -- these men made up the mostly bookish and uninspiring group.

The surprise guest breaking up the old boys club was Dr. Margaret Garretson, a plain, late-forties, slender, tanned woman of average height with tightly cropped light brown hair possessing a vivacious glow of curiosity sparked by a zealous focus on her primary subject matter of early human female subcultures.

Dr. Maggie, as she was called and truly preferred over the more traditional Peggy, was as stereotypically lesbian as one could imagine -- dressing in masculine attire, eschewing make-up and brooking no sexism whatsoever, even from her good friends.

Tonight, she was wearing a dress -- simple and outdoorsy in keeping with her lifestyle, but it was a rare occurrence in deference to the special nature of the annual holiday party.

Margaret was attractive in her own way, despite her unadorned fashion, with an athletic build from forays into the field and a poorly disguised set of curves beneath her generally lackluster clothes.

"Kristina, dear, would you be so kind as to bring in the bottle of cognac from the cabinet," Dr. Tom politely asked his courtesan, solicitously adding a cryptic instruction. "Be certain to ensure its properly served."

Kristina paused, knowing the intent of the directive and growing internally troubled by what came next. Her mind was keen and unaltered, although her manner was accommodating, and she dreaded the coming performance her insistent master had drilled into her head as expected behavior.

"I have to say, Barton, another successful party," Ted Riedell complimented, a bit tipsy and staggering before moving to the leather sofa. "You know how to bring the goods."

"Well, thank you, Ted," their host gratefully assured, "but the real goods are yet to come for my best friends."

"Napoléon cognac?" Darold presumed expectantly.

"Of course, but it's the service that's special," Barton promised with a wink.

Just then the door to the kitchen opened with the silhouette of a lovely woman outlined against the backing light holding a tray with a bottle and five crystal snifters resting in stylish metal cradles above low flames.

"Gentlemen and gentle woman, I'm happy to service you tonight," Kristina announced in a sultry voice no one identified to the rough-hewn budding anthropologist with which they were familiar.

To be certain, the erudite student's choice of phrasing was not a mistake for such an articulate woman, and as she sauntered into the tempered light of Dr. Tomlinson's wood paneled den, her attire quite clearly confirmed the truthfulness of her meaning and purpose for the evening.

"Oh, sweet lord, Barton, what did you do?" Dr. Maggie gasped in catching her breath, marveling immediately upon the vision of provocative loveliness entering the room.

Kristina stood tall and proud with tray in hand raised to shoulder height, forced that way by Dr. Tom's strict instructions, wearing only her standard home outfit after stripping off her little black dress -- sheer black hose, black garter, 5" black stiletto heels, and a matching black leather dog collar with a singular word written in decorative script describing her area of anthropological expertise, but also the primary service to be provided:

"Oralist"

Strident and of firm conviction, Dr. Maggie's knee-jerk response would normally consist of vehement chastisement of her friend and colleague for coercing his brilliant, albeit sensuous, pupil into such a titillating display of prurient debasement.

Instead, Margaret simply couldn't object, sitting slack-jawed and totally captivated by the statuesque presence of the appealing woman she'd secretly had her eye on since the day Kristina stepped onto campus.

"Me? Why nothing, Maggie," Dr. Tom replied teasingly to his colleague's remarkably inhibited response, unable to break the smile on his face having correctly guessed his impassioned fellow scholar was more smitten than offended. "Kristina tells me feminism is best left out of the bedroom."

"Yes, well, we are all human, after all," the charmed and compromising academic conceded to the trite dismissal, employing a joking refrain common in the anthropological discipline.

On the outside, Kristina's body was divine -- her stature upright, shoulders squared but her curvy hips and long slender legs lilting with seductive ease centered by a smooth, bald pussy mound begging to be caressed. The governed woman's pretty face smiled with a practiced come-hither look saying, 'I'm here for you.'

Despite such an appealing presentation, it was her firm, unsuspended and gloriously heavy tits that were unavoidable to the eye. Uplifted, alabaster in tone and buoyant in character, yet also impressively large and gravity defying, the eye-popping pair exquisitely satisfied even the most ardent breast enthusiast.

Kristina's splendid jugs paraded prominently about her chest and her deep rose nipples protruded a full inch outward in an unwanted display of arousal the result of the embarrassing stimulus of her near nudity before these esteemed professors and a tweak of her libido by her pleased keeper.

This was a Kristina Thompson none of the party congregants ever imagined existed while the bright graduate sat in their lectures over the past semester -- and they imagined plenty, even Dr. Garretson.

Inside, the accomplished student was ashamed to be exhibited so indecently before her teachers and mentors, roiled by nervous energy and distress at what she was doing. Her mind was clear of thought but emotionally in turmoil undertaking her master's bidding, but Kristina simply had no choice against the power of the spell.

'How in the hell did this happen?' the erstwhile female professor wondered to herself, shaking her head at how such a strong woman could be so easily reduced to the role of sex toy -- but what a sex toy!

In a heartbeat, every one of Dr. Garretson's dearly held feminist tropes and egalitarian beliefs were shunted aside, at least temporarily, by the powerful wave of lust and desire consuming her mind and body. Her sensibilities aside, it was clear to the confirmed lesbian that on this night, saucy and seductive Ms. Kristina Thompson was built for one purpose -- sex.

"Sisterhood, be damned," she murmured unintelligibly, simply unable to stifle her growing excitement at the prospect of receiving her lascivious friend's gift of Ms. Thompson's 'good tidings.'

The comment made clear Margaret was not interested in challenging her good fortune and willing to sacrifice her strongly held moral/ethical standards for an opportunity to lavish in Kristina's sapphic embrace, and most definitely between her dazzling student's tempting widespread thighs.

"So, Dr. Mac, may I pour for you, or is there another way I may serve you instead?" Kristina asked suggestively in keeping with her master's desired attitude and motif as lascivious hostess.

"Huh," the old man gasped at the proposition, entranced and taking the bait completely. "Cognac first, dear, as you sit on my knee, perhaps. I think I need it."

Moving gracefully, Kristina sashayed to the impassioned man, poured his liquor, and then sat politely on his knee as requested, placing her eye-catching tits mere inches from his flushed face.

"Dr. Mac," she whispered so only he could hear in an unorchestrated move she knew would please Dr. Tom nonetheless, signaling to the pudgy old man his most fervent hopes were for her to grant. "If you let me, I'd love to suck your cock."