University Years Ch. 09

When Liz and Eve found that one of the University Clubs was having a Bacchus Ball, they announced they wanted to go and that I was to be their partner for the night. And, yes, it was put as definitely as that; not really offering me any choice.

I was a bit surprised, in the sense that I thought that sort of thing was somewhat in the past; cultural appropriation and various other woke type changes discouraging events where women are scantily dressed, drunk and dressed in outfits more appropriate to a past culture.

Mind you, I would have gone anyway; I was just amused by how firmly they put it, and a bit worried about how one guy partners two attractive women at a likely very debauched event like that.

We of course needed appropriate outfits, but the girls told me not to worry about that and that they would sew some outfits up. I didn't doubt their sewing skills, they were superb. Given the fetishes I'd already seen, I did worry somewhat about what they might produce.

A week before the event I was presented with my toga inspired outfit. They'd clearly put a lot of thought, work and no little expense into it.

It consisted of a dress like tunic with purple edging and made from a very fine white linen. The tunic had broad shoulder straps, short, open arms and a high neckline and back; although it rode quite high on my thighs. I figured with a pair of swimmers underneath, I could deal with the likely upskirt exposure.

With that was a toga, draped over a shoulder, which was much longer; extending down to my mid calves. It too was of the fine white linen and purple edged.

There was also a belt to wear around my waist with the tunic; plaited using rolled up bands of the linen material. There was a small, holster like container on the right hip I didn't pay much attention to at the time.

It was all very impressive and I couldn't have hoped for more. But when they declined to show me their outfits, maybe I should have had my suspicions aroused.

Come the day of the ball, there were more than a few surprises for me. I should have known.

The first was that, instead of the girls going as my Roman social equal, with the same fine garments they'd made for me, they had decided to go as my slaves. They'd got themselves some white spandex swimwear material and dyed it a sort of dirty, uneven, light brown.

From that they made themselves some tunics of their own which were very short, very body conforming, very deep v'ed in the neckline and split at the sides up to their hips; held up by spaghetti string shoulder straps made of plaited lengths of the same dirty brown spandex, tied in a bow at the top of the shoulder. It was finished with a belt made of the same plaited material.

The lower, split, part of the dress didn't flare over their hips, which meant the slits in the leg hem opened wide around the womanly shape of their hips, displaying their thighs up to the waistband of their loincloth.

But that wasn't enough for them. They'd introduced a number of tears and splits into the garments; sometimes in, shall we say, precarious places. Liz had one under her right breast that her nipple threatened to come out of. And both of them had splits low down at the front that exposed their underwear. That was just on the front.

The back was covered in short slits and tears that had a red stain painted on the edges with red body paint on their skin underneath; creating an alarmingly real looking impression that they'd just been flogged.

Then there was their so called underwear.

No bras of course. Their only breast coverage was the unlined spandex of their tunic; which, thin and well stretched around their breasts, completely failed to disguise, let alone hide, their nipples.

As for panties, I might have thought they'd go for bikini bottoms, given the inevitable exposure the shortness of their dresses and the split up the side would offer. But no, they made themselves some loincloths. A waistband of the same plaited dirty brown spandex used elsewhere, held up a thin strip of the spandex material that ran through their crotch and up over the waistband front and back, leaving a flap of material that draped back down to about their crotch level. No elasticised leg seams, just the thin strip of material.

They were going to create quite an impression; whether a good or a bad one, I wasn't sure. But I could well guess that guys would be circling them like bees to nectar.

Then there were two more surprises for me.

The first was a whip to go in the aforementioned holster. It had a small, short handle which fitted in the holster and long lengths of red stained plaited string which dapped down my thighs with knots at the end.

And then, to top it off, a replacement loincloth for the swimwear I thought I was going to wear.

It was similar in design to the girls, but made of cleaner and finer spandex material with a slightly wider crotch band. The girls had at least designed it with sufficient leg seam support to stop my balls falling out the side. But they also designed it with a pouch of material between the leg seams, so that, instead of supporting my manhood in the usual sideways position, it let it dangle straight down; as it would if I had nothing on; and my short tunic only just covered down to the height it dangled to. That was when it was flaccid. I hated to think what would happen if I got a half mongrel.

It was with some trepidation I got out of our taxi and entered the ballroom where the event was to be held. With the two girls walking either side of me, a half pace ahead, their hands holding mine it must have looked like there were dragging me in there. I was braced to have to say a thousand times during the night that it was the girls' idea they go as slaves.

We found our table, joined there by a number of couples who were friends of the girls from their classes.

The other girls at the table fawned all over the outfits the girls had made; since many were dressed in little more than sheets wrapped around them. And yes, pretty quickly it became necessary to reveal that it was the girls' idea to go as slaves. And when asked why, Liz and Eve gave some disturbingly erotic answers. Sort of 50 Shades of Grey type answers based on Roman outfits.

The guys on the other hand mainly fawned all over the girls; barely able to take their eyes off their cleavage -- and then only to see what up skirt views were available.

The night was nearly as drunken as you might have expected.

I enjoy dancing and loved dancing with the girls. I wasn't there to protect their modesty (only their safety). They well knew that if they spun in the dance, their skirt would fly up as high as the side split and expose their loincloths. And that I, and every guy in the room, would be watching for it. They spun a lot. Their breast modesty was also demonstrably insecure with the deep cleavage line of their skirts

They got hit on by innumerable guys. If they liked the look of the guy, each time they asked me -- in front of him - if it was OK to dance with him; making a sort of point they were largely spoken for. Many guys tried their hardest for wardrobe malfunctions on the dance floor; especially having their breasts come out the cleavage line; although two guys grabbed the flying tail of the loincloth in a spin, looking for a loincloth malfunction too.

The breast exposures were tolerated and tucked back in. Only one of the attempted loincloth malfunctions was nearly -- but not quite - successful, but both resulted in the guy being left on the dancefloor.

But mostly they took turns dancing with me. And as they danced, they tried their hardest to arouse me; something they didn't find all that hard to achieve.

You could see a certain playful evilness in how they'd set me up with the roman tunic and loincloth. As I first became aroused, and almost until it was a half mongrel, it would harden and thicken, but still point downwards; projecting very obviously from under the bottom hem of the tunic, loosely sheathed in the white cloth, and making me look obscenely well hung.

For the next stage, it would arc out, lifting up the bottom hem of the dress in the process. It was pointless -- maybe impossible -- to tuck it under the hem because it was too tight and, in any case, would be just as obvious.

At full arousal it would, if I did nothing more, continue to lift the hem of the tunic up, fully displaying the length of my erection and the loincloth containing it; at least until I could pull the tunic over the top and have some chance of it not being noticed.

But once it did anything other than dingle downwards, the girls had something to dance against while pushed into me; deliberating stimulating it as we danced. There were a couple of times I knew I'd cum in I let them keep doing that, so had to stop.

All in all, I relied on the darkness of the room, the girls bodies and the crowd to hide the arousal they kept teasing me up to; the limitations on that being that most of the males in the crowd could be seen staring at the girls bodies. Plus I tried to keep it below a half mongrel at nothing worse than a stiffened dangle reveal as much as I could. Gross embarrassment is a reasonably good libido inhibitor; to a point.

Come the serving of the dinner, they insisted on playing my slaves; hand feeding me while I sat back like an overindulged Emperor; mind you, using their spare hand to touch me up under the table while plying me and themselves with water diluted wine.

I wasn't innocent of sexually touching them up myself; but it was a lot harder to do subtly although, while Eve was dancing with someone else, I did manage to get a long enough go at fingering Liz to bring her to a very loincloth dampening climax.

But none of that was enough for them. Even the diluted wine was having a cumulative effect on them. And as they got drunker, they got boulder and randier.

I was dancing with Liz, close up with her grinding her crotch on my erection, when she announced...

"Let's go outside and find a place for a fuck."

She didn't wait for an answer; taking my hand and leading me off the dance floor and out of the building. As we exited the door she looked over to the extensive lawn, poorly lit off to the right; pointing...

"Over there."

We walked across the lawn to where a few bushes provided some cover; finding another couple already in the act behind the first one and then moving further up till another line of bushes provided a bit more privacy.

I could pretend I was an innocent victim of this; reluctantly surrendering to her needs. But I wasn't. The fact was the girls' mode of dress, their close dancing, an almost constant erection over the last half hour and more than enough wine had made me as randy as Liz was. As we chose our plot, we fell into each others arm and sunk, first to our knees, then out flat with Liz under me. This was going to be a quickie.

Liz pulled my erection from under my tunic and pulled her loincloth aside to start my penetration of her while I pulled aside the triangles covering her breasts and started sucking her right one. Liz signalled by lifting her legs that she wanted to move into the origami position, where she hooks her legs over my shoulders; almost doubling herself over. Once she had me partly penetrated, she signalled for me to thrust all the way in.

Once my erection was fully captured within her beautiful body, a certain primitive instinct took over. I just started pumping her. I'd like to say I was relying on her sexual receptiveness to find her own climax, given the position was friendly to that outcome. But the simple, sad fact was, in my alcohol induced state I was really just pleasuring myself; as overcome by the need for sex as Liz had been.

And as much as my few extra years of life gave me reservations about having sex in public that Liz seemed oblivious to, it was a wondrous sensation and for the moment, whatever reservations my brain had, my cock had overridden them. I pumped her for all I was worth; looking for the goldilocks zone of length and speed of thrust and angle of approach that felt the best.

More by good fortune than any nobility on my part, I sensed Liz working to a climax. A combination of the g spot and clit stimulation that the origami position offers, even with a randy, half drunk partner, was having its effect.

As she came, she tightened her grip on me, shortly after sending me into my grunt inducing climax too.

Fortunately we'd been quieter about our sex than we were at home. No one had come in our direction. Liz let most of my cum discharge itself into the grass as we straightened ourselves up; a somewhat sticky half erection being folded back into the loincloth I was wearing under the tunic and, I dare say, an additional stain being left on Liz's loincloth; adding to the one my fingering of her had already put there.

We snuck back into the auditorium. Eve was still on the dance floor, but when she spotted us, she abandoned her dance partner and came over to us...

"My turn."

She grabbed my hand and led me into the centre of the dancing mob. Alternatively grinding herself sensuously against me and moving out just enough to let her put on a sexually charged dancing display for me, after a while, she moved against me and asked...

"Did you just fuck Liz?"

"Yes."

She didn't enquire further, but her dancing became even more sexual; teasing me visually and touching me up physically when she danced close. And by touching me up, I don't mean a hand around my cock. I mean manoeuvring her body against me in ways intended to arouse and seduce me; almost offering herself up to me.

I could tell Eve had a plan. I just wasn't sure what it was. I even wondered if she'd have me fuck her on the dance floor.

The plan revealed itself when she whispered in my ear...

"Take me out and rape me."

There was nothing whispered in my response.

"WHAT?"

"I'm your slave. Have your way with me and make me feel like you're using me for sex."

That was a slightly more reasonable way of putting it. It was the first inkling that Eve may have been the one who pushed for the slave routine and, as I discovered later, had a number of fetishes that went with it.

Eve had certainly got me randy again with all her dancing around me. The spirit was there, but there were practical problems. I could play act the role, but if Eve equally play acted the role of a resisting victim, either visually or vocally, there were no shortage of people around who would come to her assistance.

Eve continued to dance around and next to me; somewhat drunkenly but clearly wanting to sexually excite me and very much succeeding, but probably also deliberately setting the stage for her 'abduction'. I thought about how I should play it; well aware I had only a limited time to do so if Eve wasn't to get impatient with me.

I finally built up the courage to take the first steps. I took her hand and silently led her meaningfully off the dance floor and towards the door; leaving her stumblingly half -- well, a little bit - drunkenly behind me.

I walked towards the bushes Liz and I had used a bit more than half an hour ago. But as I came around them, I could see in the moonlight the spot was already taken. A naked woman, stripped of her flimsy sheet which acted as a roman outfit and, I would have to add, with an incredibly cute arse -- at least from the angle I was looking - was going at it in reverse missionary position; her widely spread legs letting me see the guy's cock slipping in and out of her body at a fast pace.

Part captured by the sight, part by indecision as to the alternative, I froze there for the moment. Then looking up, I saw a tree twenty meters further back. Eventually tearing my eyes away from the couple on the ground, I led Eve back to it. In a way the tree solved my uncertainty of how to make this seem forced.

There was not enough cover to lie on the ground. So with a poorly acted attempt at making it look forced, I pushed Eve face first against the trunk of the tree. Then I undid the shoulder bows on her dress, stripping her down to the waist and lifted up the back of the dress to let me rip aside her loincloth.

Then I took my erection out -- by this time quite hard and full, and penetrated her vagina with it. I took it slowly until I found her quite receptive, which let me penetrate her quickly and with a sense of urgency which might suggest control.

I'm not actually a big fan of either doggy style or rear approach. To me they lack intimacy; but I figured either were probably appropriate to Eve's request.

I pushed myself firmly against her, and in the process, pushed her into the tree, as I started thrusting; immediately eliciting a series of moaning grunts from Eve.

This might be an imitation rape, but that didn't mean either I or Eve thought she shouldn't share the fun of it. While the thrusting seemed to be giving her pleasure, I doubled up by playing what was already her extended nipple with one hand and fingering her already wet and swollen clit with the other; thankful the tree had a smooth trunk, since my hands and forearm were now squeezed between her and the trunk.

I was surprised how quickly Eve came and alarmed by how loudly. It seemed the fantasy greatly increased her arousal and response; making me wonder what else she had in stall for me.

But now I was left madly thrusting into a girl already in the throes of a noisy orgasm which seemed to be indefinitely extended by my fucking of her. The problem was, however I changed my approach, I just couldn't get the angle which would let me go from 'that's really nice', to 'I'm brewing up', even though Eve's grip on me was reasonably firm.

And the sense of concern and embarrassment that came from Eve's moaning wasn't helping. I considered faking it to let me bring it to an end; but knew Eve wold be pissed off with me if she twigged to it.

Figuring we were far enough away from the door and path to let me briefly get away with it, even in the moon light, I withdrew, pulled Eve away from the tree, pushed her face up on the ground and re-penetrated her. Then I went at her tooth and nail to bring myself to an orgasm as quickly as possible.

Eve seemed to enjoy the latter bit of it even more than the first part; moaning and grunting with every thrust, squirming under me as she pinned me down by the neck as I fucked her and then resisting my attempt to withdraw and get up with the same crushing hold as she kissed and pashed me like a demented woman.

I surrendered to her desires, suppressing my concerns and responding to her passion with my own until my cock went soft and Eve finally let me go.

As we stood up and straightened ourselves into something more appropriate to public viewing, it was almost impossible for Eve not to look 'just fucked'. Her tunic now had a new and more substantial rip across the front, not far under her breasts where it seemed to have snagged on the tree and the back was green stained.

I asked her if she was ready to go home, but she declined.

But her appearance now drew guys like flies to her, even more so than before.

As the night went on, the crowd got drunker and the guys started to hit on the girls harder and with more determination. Some of them -- and many of the girls too - were all but naked as their hastily made togas unravelled and fell off and some of them tried pretty hard to get the girls to strip too as they danced with them. And just about every one they danced with tried to get them to go home with him.

And Eve, with her torn dress and now dishevelled look, was hit on even harder and found it difficult not to have her breasts exposed; something she eventually gave up on defending.

At first they could easily take it in good spirits, even played to it, but there came a time well into the evening it ceased to be fun and they suggested we go home.