Fulfilling the Prerequisites Ch. 01

Can you picture her? If you were fortunate enough to espy her in a crowd, you would do a double take, and triple. If you were with a date, you would do your best to sneak peaks in her direction whenever possible. If flying solo, as you are now, you try to get away with gazing at her for minutes on end.

She is the personification of alluring, and it starts with her full, Asian, catlike eyes, stunningly highlighted by a trace of shadowy eyeliner. Her dark brown hair is pulled into a pony tail to show off her large, hoop earrings. As she converses with her friends, the hoops gently bounce against her face, softly kissing her cheeks. You are mesmerized by those earrings. The fuck-me hoops seem to enhance her sexuality without making her look like a slut. She plays those earrings like a finely tuned instrument.

Her body is tight, a work of art, accented by a perky pair of 33Bs constricted by a spaghetti-strap tank top that is perhaps one size too small. But the taut cotton only accentuates her toned midsection, which draws your eyes down to her hips, screaming at you from within the belt of her low-rise jeans. Her ass is firm but supple, the result of hundreds of hours spent bicycling. She is well aware of the effect she has on men, and has worked hard to maintain it.

Her belly is tight and tanned. Her navel is pierced, a silver charm embedded within.

Your eyes return to her face, and you jump when she realizes she has caught you staring. You instinctively shoot your eyes down, hoping she is not angry that you are ogling her. But when you return your gaze to her, she is still fixed on you, smiling. Her smile strikes an unusual dichotomy of girl-next-door sweetness and I-could-swallow-your-cock-whole sex demon.

You smile back, like an idiot, thinking you have a chance with this girl. You wrack your mind for a clever icebreaker, just in case her friends leave her alone and you work up the courage to approach her. Your opportunity presents itself earlier than expected. One of her friends gets up to use the rest room, and the other goes to the counter to pay for their coffees.

You have a small window of time, but before you can make a move, your eyes lock again. She cocks her eyebrows up, asking if you are man enough. She leans back against the chair and lets her right hand brush against the top of her breast and down her cleavage.

She ever so slightly parts her legs, not at all obscenely because of her jeans, but reeking of implications. It is at this point that you realize you are not man enough. With just these two simple gestures, she has you hard, and there is no way you are going to stroll across the cafe with a full erection trying to fight through your zipper.

As a last ditch effort, you try to cast a smile her way, but her friends have returned, and you resign yourself to the fact that the only additional pleasure she will grant you is the pleasure of watching her walk away. She doesn't even look back.

If you had built up the nerve to walk over to her and ask her name, and assuming she was feeling honest, she would have answered, "Monique," although all of her friends called her "Mokie."

.....

Judging strictly from aesthetics, Mokie was your typical, spoiled southern California hottie. But this is only party true. She did come from money, and her parents certainly spoiled her, but she was far from typical. She was incredibly smart, abiding by a school-first mentality that had her at the top of her class.

When she was 18, a senior in high school, she was attracting boys in college. At this stage in her life, she still believed in the concept of love, and she had the pick of the litter. Unfortunately, she chose poorly.

Of all the men who would have thrown themselves at her feet and worshipped her, she chose the one who was indifferent to her charms. His name was Jason, an undergrad student at UCLA, and the only son of Mokie's neighbors. He had been a fantasy of hers since she knew what sex was, but he always had a train of new girls filing into his bedroom. He was two years her senior, and light-years older in terms of maturity and sexual experience.

One weekend towards the end of the school year, Mokie's parents hosted a barbecue for all of their neighbors. When she heard that Jason would be there, Mokie did herself up in her cutest outfit, a light, yellow sundress with simple white sandals. The lack of effort she needed to look sexy was perhaps her sexiest attribute. She was a pure beauty.

When Jason and his family showed up, Mokie was relieved to see that he had not brought a girl with him. She bided her time, waiting for him to be alone, nervous about flirting in front of her parents, or anyone else for that matter. When Jason went to the bar to replenish his drink, Mokie made her move.

"Hi," she said, trying to look and sound as sweet as possible.

"Hey," he said, nonchalantly. Not the excited response she was hoping for.

"So, I just got into UCLA! We're going to be sharing a campus next year!" She was clearly more excited about this than he was.

"Congrats," was his only response.

After a few minutes of awkward conversation and even more awkward silence, Jason admitted that he was feeling down because his date had bailed on him. Of course, in his mind, he was always looking for the next girl anyway. So it wasn't this one particular girl that had him down, it was his lack of prospects for that night.

Suddenly, pouncing on the opportunity without giving it much consideration, Mokie asked "Perhaps I could tag in for tonight?"

Jason's eyes went wide. Despite her obvious beauty, he had never considered her as a sexual partner before. When he was a young boy, Monique's family had moved in across the street. The Asian influx into southern California was at its peak, but the white citizens in the area did not always approve. He remembered his father, a Vietnam vet, using words like "chinks" and "gooks'" when referring to the new neighbors. In high school, white boys who paid too much attention to Asian girls were diagnosed with "yellow fever."

As a result, he had never thought of Monique as sexy, in the same way he thought of a tanned, blond "So Cal" girl as sexy. UCLA Asian coeds had opened new horizons for Jason, especially when he needed to confirm the rumor that Asian pussy went sideways, not front to back. It had only taken him three weeks into his freshmen year to confirm that was just "white trash talk."

Nevertheless, he had never thought of Monique as sexy, but with these seven words, that wall came crumbling down.

A minute later, he was taking her by the hand back to his house, out of sight from their parents. They ran upstairs and into his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind them. He turned to her and grabbed her head in his hands, bringing his lips to hers. It was the first time Mokie had kissed a guy so passionately, let alone in a in a bedroom alone with one.

She did not know what to do with her hands, opting to just hold onto his waist, pulling him into her. His tongue forced its way through her lips and explored the entirety of her mouth. She was nervous as hell, not wanting to appear so inexperienced. He broke off the kiss and tried to calm her down.

Looking deep into her eyes, he said "Mokie, calm down. I don't ever have sex on the first date, so you don't have to worry. I will let you give me head, though."

Mokie was wracked with trepidation about having to give him a BJ, but she did not want to show fear.

"Here, let me show you," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and guiding her down to her knees. He dropped his shorts down to his ankles along with his boxers, and his semi-erect dick popped into view.

From there, Mokie's recollection of the next five minutes was really just a collection of senses. The feel of his hand gripping the hair behind her head as he fucked her mouth. The smell of his dick and the sweat forming on his abdomen as it ground against her face. The failure of her hands, feebly clasping onto his waist, to slow him down.

But above all else, Mokie remembered the sounds. As his dick assaulted her, the sounds of her "mmphh, mmphh, mmphh" flooded her ears. When she opened her mouth to breathe, it changed to "kack, kack, kack." She felt so humiliated, his flesh plugging her up.

Finally, the ultimate humiliation, the sound of him groaning as he flooded her mouth with cum. The sticky, salty substance swarmed around her mouth, but she refused to swallow it. She could not stoop that low.

Jason held his dick in her mouth until his breath slowed, at which point he pulled out and his cum expelled from her mouth. She hung her head in shame, eyeing the cum that had fallen onto her sundress. Stoically, she fought back tears and sobs, hoping that Jason would be happy with her.

"Thanks, Mokie," he said. "That was awesome." He sat back on the bed and turned the TV on. After two minutes, Mokie realized that he was done with her, so she got herself to her feet and went to the bathroom.

Inspecting herself in the vanity, she washed the cum off of her chin, and dabbed the spots on her dress. There were two primary stains, one on her right breast, and one just above her right knee. She could not get them out.

Composing herself, she moved down the stairs and out the front door as quietly as possible. With the barbecue in the back yard, she ran across the front yard and into her house, unseen.

She closed the door and leaned back against it, an absolute wreck. Her jaw saw sore, and his taste still dominated her palate. She covered her eyes with her hands as the tears started working their way out.

Suddenly, she heard her parents open the door from the patio into the kitchen.

"I haven't seen her in half an hour. Have you?" her mother asked.

"I'm sure she's fine," her father said, ever the pacifist. They made their way to the opposite end of the hall where Mokie now stood. She was able to elude their sight by running up the stairs, but her footsteps belied her location.

"Honey?" her mom yelled after her. Mokie did not reply, escaping to her room and slamming the door shut. She took off her dress, standing in a lacy pair of bra and panties, and inspected the cum stains closer. Her favorite dress, she thought, ruined. Even if she could cleanse it of the semen, she could not wipe her memory clean. She would never wear it again.

She was startled by a knock on the door.

"Honey, is everything OK?"

"Yeah, mom," she answered, between sniffles. "I just spilled all over my favorite dress."

"Oh, sweetie. Hand it out to me, I will run it through the washer."

"No, mom. It's ruined," Mokie insisted.

"Sweetheart, I'm sure I can..."

"Mom, please, just leave me alone."

It was the first time that she had forbid her mom entrance to her room, and her mom was so shocked that she resigned her efforts and left her in peace.

Later that week, while looking out her bedroom window, Mokie saw Jason bringing another girl home. Obviously, she decided, while Jason had meant the world to her, she had meant nothing to him. After a night of crying into her pillow and chastising herself for being so naive, she swore up and down that she would never let another man take advantage of her like that.

.....

And then, by amazing coincidence, you see her again two hours later. 'How could this be?' you wonder, in awe of your amazing luck.

You have taken a seat at a desk near the middle aisle. You take a quick look around the room, checking for a familiar face, and out of the corner of your eye you see her. The tank top, a size too small...it is the same girl you saw earlier in the morning!

And yet not quite the same girl. With her friends she freely flashed an award-winning smile and seemed to enjoy the silent tete-a-tete that passed between you. Now, as she heads in your direction (your direction!), her face is set in a photo pout and her gait is that of a model on the cat walk, a sultry college senior who realizes that sexuality is power. It seems she knows that if she can create desire in men, (or women, for that matter), she can control them.

Classmates like you, who didn't even know her name, would have given their left hand to be with her. But fate, this day, has provided you a second chance. Sitting at your desk for Circuits and Systems, the last requirement for your Electrical Engineering degree, you notice her quickly amongst the throngs of students filing in for the first day of class.

You follow her as she meanders through the desks, now smiling slyly as she twists between them, accentuating her curves and sensing many eyes on them. She finds an open desk immediately to your right and begins unpacking her bag: textbook, note pad, pen and her coffee from earlier. As she turns slightly, you notice a silver dolphin adorns her pierced belly button.

You cannot believe your luck, but being so shy, you stare straight down at your desk and say nothing as the professor enters and the room settles down. You couldn't even meet her eyes, to note if she remembered you from earlier this morning.

"Good afternoon, class. Welcome to Circuits and Systems. I'm Professor Larson."

As he scribbles his name on the white board, you sneak a peak to your left. She spins her pen through her fingers and then uses it to flip her pony tail to the other shoulder. You shake your head in awe and return your gaze to the board. 'How could someone who seems so ditzy be in this class?' you think to yourself.

She reaches for her coffee as Professor Larson continues.

"Before we begin, I would like to introduce my understudy. He will be available to assist you between classes, if you like. And he will be helping me grade papers and exams, so you might want to be nice to him."

The room gave a half-hearted chuckle at this attempt at a joke.

"Jason, please stand up and say hello," Larson requested.

The next thing you know, your obsession is coughing up her coffee, doing her best to stifle a spit-take. You glance over at her, and can sense a change in demeanor.

"Are you OK?" you quietly ask, both legitimately concerned and grateful at the opportunity to break the ice.

"Yeah, thank you," she says without looking your way. Her face looks remarkably pale. You can sense she doesn't want to be bothered, so you leave it alone.

Jason returns to his seat and the lecture begins. You notice that she is still very much flustered by something, but cannot figure it out. For the remainder of the ninety-minute class, you try to pay attention, but are permanently distracted by this girl.

As class is excused, Jason stands up again to address the students.

"Just a quick note. If there is a Monique here, I need to see you before you go. There seems to be a discrepancy with one of your prerequisites for this course. Thank you."

You and everyone else get up to leave, except for her. As you file out of the room, you turn to confirm that there is no one left except for her and Jason, just to confirm her name.

"Monique," you say to yourself, repeating it in your head, committing it to memory. You watch as she nervously descends the stairs of the amphitheater to Jason, and then turn and walk away.

.....

Jason was sitting to the side of the professor's desk as Mokie made her way to him on shaky legs. He remembered her as the sweetheart daughter of his neighbors, not this sexpot coed. He was thrilled that this devious plan of his would be enacted on this stunning beauty.

Monique would have done anything to be with Jason before that life-altering afternoon. Immediately afterward, she never wanted anything to do with him again.

"Hey, Mokie, long time no see," he said, mock cheerfully.

"Fuck you, Jason," replied Mokie. "I never wanted to see you again. If I didn't have to take this class to graduate, I would have walked out as soon as I saw you here."

"Well, that's the crux of the issue, isn't it? You DO have to take this course. Only problem is, you fucked up, Mokie. You are missing a prerequisite, and technically should not be allowed to attend this class yet."

An overwhelming sense of panic overtook Mokie, realizing that if she could not take this class this semester, she would not be able to graduate until the following semester, after summer vacation.

"That's impossible," she defended with a false sense of confidence.

"I'm afraid it is quite possible. Reality, in fact. Look," he said, turning the curriculum to her and pointing to Linear Systems Theory. "Not on your record."

Mokie's hands started shaking as she looked over the manual and realized he was right.

"Is there anything I can do? I don't want to have to ask my parents to pay for another semester because of this."

"I'm glad you asked, Mokie. I think I can actually fix this for you. But I will need you to do something for me."

Mokie gulped, afraid to ask. "What?"

"Oh, I think you know," he said, grinning like the deviant he was. "This is going to be a two-way street."

"What does that mean?" Mokie asked, just slightly more optimistic.

"Here's the deal. You submit to me, for a length of time yet to be determined. Until I am tired of you, I guess. In exchange, not only will I not bring this oversight to the registrar, but I will do the work for you in this class. This syllabus is a piece of cake for me, so I guarantee a 4.0."

Mokie sat silently, considering the options she really didn't have.

"Well," said Jason. "How about a 'Thank you?'"

"Thank you?" Mokie asked.

"Yeah, a fucking Thank You! You get a pretty sweet deal out of all this. You give yourself to me, and in exchange you don't have to go back to your parents in shame and tell them you are not going to graduate on time. You certainly dress like you get it all the time anyway, so what's the big deal"

Mokie clenched her eyes shut, trying to prevent any tears from flowing. She took a deep breath, and resigned herself to this situation.

"Thank you, Jason."

"Uh, uh, uh," he warned, waving his finger at her in warning. "From now on, you address me as Master. Do you understand?"

"Master?" she responded, with a clear lack of comprehension.

"Yes, 'Master'. You know, like Master and slave."

"But...," she started.

"But nothing, slut," he hissed.

"When I say 'submit', I mean 'submit.' You yield your body to me, you obey me unconditionally, when I say jump, you jump." He paused, watching her expression. He had been blunt, mincing no words. She would either agree or stalk out and take an extra semester to graduate.

He knew he had won when she closed her gaping mouth and dropped her eyes.

"Yes, Master," Mokie answered, relenting to his authority over her.

"Very good, slut," he said. "You are free for now, but meet me in the electrical lab at 9pm tonight. Understood?"

"Yes, Master," Mokie said with her eyes to the floor.

"Good, now get out of my sight."

.....

Mokie arrived promptly at 9pm, being careful not to give Jason anything else to use against her. She peaked through the square-foot window in the middle of the door, and saw him sitting behind the professor's desk with his feet up. She steadied her nerves and opened the door.

"Well, my pet has arrived," Jason said as she entered. "Your Master appreciates punctuality."

She paused half way down the aisle, not saying a word, but definitely a look of defiance on her face. Clearly, she had recovered from the shock earlier in the day and was going to make a stand. This he could not allow.

"Take off your sandals and kick them over to me."

"Can we talk about this arrangement a bit more, please," she began.

"No, you can turn around and walk out the door and face the consequences, or you can kick your sandals over to me. I am the one doing you a favor, slut," Jason responded instantly. He had expected this.

Mokie stepped out of them, and kicked them along the floor to Jason, who picked them up and put them in the bottom drawer of the desk.