All Too Real

Simon could see the thread of pride, holding her together. He resolved to cut it. Grabbing Charlotte by the hand, he led her out of the entrance room and into a room set up like a bedroom. Wordlessly, he motioned to the bed, and she walked over to it and sat down on the edge. An exaggerated eye roll let her know instantly she should lay down. She did, trembling from the cold and from fear.

"What is a secret?" Simon asked, waxing philosophical as he rolled a desk chair over from the other side of the room. "A tongue stud isn't secret, but nipple rings? They might be secret."

Simon pinched both of Charlotte's nipples, not hard but not soft. It was enough to shock her back to full attention after the emotional whirlwind of the past few minutes.

"I couldn't force you to eat a girl's pussy, but I could make you lick my asshole. That's secret. Maybe I'll turn you into my personal toilet, but pretend we've never even met to everyone I know."

Charlotte shuddered at the thought. She felt so vulnerable, lying naked on the bed as Simon mused on all the ways he could torture and degrade her. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine it all away. When she opened them, he was leaning over her, holding an uncapped sharpie marker.

"I suppose I couldn't write 'sperm bank' on your forehead, now, could I? But if I had a burning urge for poetry, there's plenty of space to write, isn't there?"

She pleaded with Simon not to do it, but he began writing across her body, starting from her above her full, pendulous tits and continuing down to immediately above her snatch. He looked down, pleased.

"Not my best work, but still...it's got style," he said appreciatively. "None of that free verse shit, either--I say, it's not good poetry if it doesn't rhyme."

Charlotte couldn't take the suspense any longer.

"Are you going to have sex with me?" she asked, once again breaking out into soft sobs. "Please just do it and stop torturing me."

Simon shook his head.

"Quite the slut, aren't you? I haven't decided yet. Maybe you should tell me what would be so great about it. I mean, there's a lot of pussy out there with a lot less attitude. What's so great about you, slut?"

Charlotte realized she'd need to convince Simon to go along with her plan, or else she'd end up exposed. Even in her humiliated, emotional state, she kept enough of her wits to see how important it was to satisfy his sadistic lust.

She began to run her hands up towards her chest, cupping her tits as if to offer them to him.

"I've got fabulous breasts, the best money can buy," she said, her voice beginning in a whimpering stutter but slowly changing to a seductive purr.

"Unlike most of the whores around Armstrong, my pussy is still tight. I'll even get it waxed for you. You can fuck me anyway you want, any time. I'll be all yours."

Charlotte knew she'd have to go further, though. She rolled over, onto her hands and knees, sticking her ass out.

"No man has ever put his cock in my ass, and after you, no one else will. My ass will only belong to you, and I'll beg for it and scream your name when you shove your dick deep inside me. You can cum inside me, wherever you want. I'll swallow your sperm. I'll crawl on my hands and knees and beg for it. And it won't be some dumb slut doing this--it will be the hands-down best woman on this campus."

Charlotte rolled back onto her back, and spread her pussy lips apart with one hand, while fingering her clit with the other. Her body did the trick, making her wet. She took her slick fingers into her mouth, sucking them slowly, while her glistening pussy flooded with natural juices.

"If you want me in a dog collar, I'll wear a dog collar. If you want me in chains, I'll be in chains. If you want me dressed like a whore, I'll dress like the dirtiest whore you've ever seen."

Her fingers were working magic, and she hoped she could cum for him, show him how her body would respond to him. It was getting hard for her to speak through the moaning.

"Just...take...me..."

She felt herself let go, a wave of pleasure wash over her. Her legs twitched and kicked just a little as she came, her breathing heavy, chest heaving. She could almost forget that she was naked in front of a man she hated, covered in magic marker, begging to be his sex slave just to keep him from ruining her life. In that brief moment, she almost thought that her body, her sex might give her control over Simon, as if he were just some horny boy under her sway. In a rare show of something approaching kindness, he let her cum before dashing those illusions.

"Not interested."

Charlotte felt like all the air had left the room. She suddenly felt something more than naked--exposed to her very core. She found herself unable to speak.

Simon beckoned her to get up from the bed with his fingers, and she obeyed. Then he pointed to the ground, and she fell to her knees.

"Right now," he told her, "you're going to suck my cock. In exchange, you get...nothing."

He pulled Charlotte's head forward until his erect dick parted her lips.

"You're going to get me off with your mouth, and it's not for my silence, or to pay a debt. No, your going to use that pretty mouth on my cock because that's the only purpose you have on this fucking earth. You didn't know who you were until my dick touched your tonsils. Then it all started to make sense for you."

Charlotte retched a bit when Simon's cock reached the back of her throat. It was clear that her discomfort was not his concern, though, so she tried her best to accommodate his cock, to make her throat accept the painful violation. Thankfully, her mouth was filling up with saliva to ease his rod's passage into her.

"I'm not going to trade you anything for this, because I already own you," he continued. "And I don't give a shit about your reputation, except for the fact that I have a better idea what to do with you."

Simon pulled her head as far it could go and used his cock to completely cut off her air. Her face turned red, and she was afraid she would pass out. When he finally withdrew from her mouth, she felt a strange, unfamiliar emotion: gratitude.

"When you get home, I want you to look at yourself, really look at yourself in the mirror. Ask yourself why you thought you were so fucking perfect. Think hard about how you ended up here, on your knees with a face full of my cock."

Simon was working up a furious rhythm, sawing in and out of her mouth, withdrawing his cock until only the head remained inside Charlotte's warm, wet mouth, before burying his dick up to the hilt into her spasming throat. Never once did she bring her hands up to stroke his cock, to make it all go faster and easier. She simply took his punishment, unable to even to shed tears any longer. Her only desire was for him to climax, to fill her mouth with his seed, to end this punishment.

"You should just go ahead and admit that you want this," he said, withdrawing his cock completely from her mouth. "Don't you?"

Charlotte stared at Simon's saliva-soaked cock. She knew he was right--despite his abuse, she felt...right. She had always been attracted to power and to being the best. Now she had met power face to face, though it didn't look like anything she had ever seen before.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes. Please cum on me."

Simon stroked his dick once, twice, then exploded over her face, coating her with a layer of sticky, slimy jizz. She reached her tongue out to taste him, to savor his seed. her tongue lingered at the head of his cock, bathing it with her warmth, before sliding her mouth back down onto his member to clean him.

Naked, her face splattered with semen, without the slightest guarantee that Simon wouldn't force her that very night to service all of his fraternity brothers, Charlotte was reduced as low as she had ever been. She had nothing to trade, nothing to offer. The woman who ruled over the campus's most exclusive sorority was gone, at least for a time. Whoever was left was someone else, molded by fear and stripped of illusions.

All that remained was to beg for mercy. She reached out and grabbed Simon's hand, a gesture that surprised even him. Looking up into his eyes, she saw not cruelty, but coldness and distance. She would never move him by emotions, but there was still hope he might find a reason to spare her the indignity of turning her into a whore for the whole fraternity.

"Please don't make me fuck your brothers," she begged. "I'm sorry I thought I could make deals with you. You're right--you do own me already. You don't owe me anything. Just...I can't live with myself if everyone here knew. I'd rather die than become some whore passed around from guy to guy."

Simon knew he had bumped up against the outer reaches of what would be possible with a girl like Charlotte. Right now she was humbled, but set free to return home, her sense of self would return. Familiarity had that effect. But if he really turned her into another one of his public jizz receptacles, available for all the brothers' desires, she really might snap. He'd seen it happen before.

Fortunately, that had never been his intentions. Now was the time to show control and even a bit of mercy. He reached down to stroke her hair, holding her chin up to meet his gaze.

"You really are pretty, you know? I think you might be too good for these dickheads. Get dressed, wipe the cum off your face, and go home. Remember what I told you--really take a look at yourself in the mirror. You'll know what to do then."

Charlotte climbed up from her knees, a bit wobbly, and turned towards the door. Simon's voice froze her.

"You know, I ditched my girlfriends from last year. I'm looking for new cover, help me look normal to Mr. and Mrs. Public. You up your game and learn to suck a cock, and I might even put you in the running as girlfriend material."

Hurried is not a strong enough word to capture how quickly Charlotte got ready and escaped the Alpha Delta house. At home, safely ensconced in her little world, she could cry again. Thankfully, no one had seen her, allowing her to preserve a shred of dignity. She knew she might have broken down sobbing if anyone had so much as asked her what time it was.

Charlotte stood before her full-length mirror, staring deep into her own reflection. She saw herself, beautiful but for the smeared make-up and red puffy eyes, remnants of crying. What she didn't see was the imperious air of power, the superiority that made her callous towards the fate of others. She realized for the first time that Simon was what she had thought of herself before: he really was the powerful, heartless, superior being that she had only imagined herself to be.

Yet she didn't see what she was supposed to see, or at least what she thought she was supposed to see. What were Simon's plans? He told her that her debt wasn't paid, that she still owed him. He also told her, though, that she wouldn't be part of any fraternity gangbang, oral or otherwise. What was the next step?

Suddenly it dawned on her. He had written on her in marker. She removed her shirt and bra and looked into the mirror. Though the words were now backwards, she could still understand the message. It wasn't a poem at all. From her tits to her crotch, she read it out to herself:

"Friday, 1:30 PM @ the Snowy Pine Club in Stowe. Look classy on the outside, whore underneath. No current ADs there."

Underneath the message, Simon had left his signature in cursive, personalizing his act of owning her body and ordering her compliance to his will. This was far from over.