Queen Catherine of Campus

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Catherine blackmails Michelle the Beauty Queen.
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A METAMORPHOSIS OF PRIDE or THE RISE AND FALL OF CATHERINE

Chapter II

Queen Catherine of Campus

"For a man, it can be very difficult to conquer the woman he desires. Oftentimes he finds the woman he pursues to be arrogant and indifferent, so the way to her heart requires a lot of courage, artistry, persistence, and luck. Once he has conquered her she will ratify her submission to him through consummation, but the ultimate expression of this submission is when she is to perform oral sex on him".

"All the traits of this act are indicators of excellent submissive disposition. For one, she is on her knees, which indicates that she has surrendered all arrogance and indifference. Secondly, she is kissing the man's penis, which can also be regarded as a symbol of her submission to his masculinity. Oral sex is the woman's most intimate way of confirming her feminine submission to him and offering him the complete booty of his conquest, which is her entire self".

(...)

"Most of the time, the same can be said about a woman who performs oral sex on another woman. When a woman kneels before another woman and kisses the symbol of her femininity one cannot rule it out as meaningless lesbianism. The very intimate motives of both women will not necessarily have to do with feeling and romance. Believe it or not, sometimes what is erroneously confused with lesbianism is merely a straight woman's isolated and voluntary surrender to a woman she deems "worthy" of her surrender. This is of course something very difficult to differentiate from sheer lesbianism, but it is possible and it happens often".

"It can certainly happen that a perfectly straight woman will feel overpowered by the beauty of another woman, a beauty which she perceives to be superior to her own, but instead of feeling envy or hatred towards her as a result, she will feel the inexplicable impulse to honour that woman's beauty by "sacrificing" herself to her and "worshipping" her. This and nothing else explains why so many straight women, especially in the Western World, claim to have one female celebrity they would sleep with, when they would otherwise never stray from their heterosexual orientation".

"It also can happen that a very dominant straight woman is deeply tempted by the weakness she perceives in another woman, and so she ends up using her to boost up her own ego. The more beautiful the weaker woman is, the more gratifying it is for the stronger woman's ego. Even the beautiful Lucrece of Vindobona once found that having the most beautiful of her slave girls kiss her feet and her glutei was more flattering than being made love to by her own husband".

"A handsome husband is very beneficial for a straight woman's ego, but a beautiful, submissive woman is usually much better, because a woman's submission to another woman is a greater sexual sacrifice than a man's, especially inasmuch as obtaining such sacrifice is almost impossible. Powerful women or female celebrities who eventually turn deliberately to lesbianism usually start by using submissive female followers, with this in mind".

"Most straight women would categorically never feel compelled to surrender to another woman, but the two types of women being analysed here are also both straight. One is the woman with the upper hand and the other one is the underdog, voluntary or not. When subduing another female the more dominant woman will of course resort to means which exclude wooing, as wooing does not comply with her heterosexual nature".

"She will therefore resort to other means in order to obtain the submission she wants from the woman she is seeking to subdue. A common resource is coercion: getting her woman to surrender through psychological mortification. However, as stated above, this may not be necessary when the other woman is willing to submit".

"Having taken all previously stated facts into account, one can only say that there is no such thing as isolated "lesbian experiences" or "straight women experimenting", but only straight women going through exceptional one-time experiences with the same gender that do not indicate a deliberate change in sexual orientation. A straight woman who has no more than one to four sexual experiences with other women throughout her lifetime most likely falls into one of the two previously explained categories".

"In conclusion, she is either a straight woman who uses another woman's sexual submission to boost her own ego, or she is the woman who, making a one-time exception, submits sexually to another woman who "deserves" her submission to her, but she is not to be tagged as a one-time lesbian who is "experimenting". Lesbianism is completely different. It is the way of life beyond these kinds of experiences, one which begins to show different and more affected characteristics, such as romantic pretences and perpetual attraction to other women".

...

The way I had humiliated the maid is something that, even if I tried, I couldn't forget all throughout the years that followed. Whenever I put on a pair of tight, white satin panties I would sometimes find it difficult not to remember her blushing face between my legs and the warm and damp sensation of her mouth upon the fabric. I sometimes went through the experience again and again in my head trying to recapture every detail in my memory.

When I was in the university I was afraid that because of this I would eventually become a lesbian, so I started to spend a lot more time with my boyfriend to prevent it from happening. On my free time I would also visit the Psychology section of the library on campus, trying to find an explanation for the experience I'd had.

It took me a week of daily visits to finally get my eyes on a text that actually satisfied me. I finally came across an old, dusty book with a section titled "Theories on the Obscure Realm of Human Sexuality", which had been written in the sixties by some Hungarian psychology professor.

After reading the text I felt satisfied. Now I knew I was utterly straight. I was attracted to only men, and the only reason I had dominated the maid sexually was merely because I had needed to boost my ego. Still, I couldn't deny the delight that came with remembering the experience with her, but now, after having clarified the nature of it all, I remembered the experience as fearlessly as I did more frequently than before.

I went through the experience over and over again. Undoubtedly my favourite bit of the entire experience with the chambermaid had been the sight of her sorrowful, pathetic hazelnut eyes when she looked up at me from between my legs as her tongue shyly caressed the satin surface. I could still hear her gasps of humiliation and the high-pitched protesting moans she had uttered when I grabbed her by her dark-brown hair and forced her towards me, making her cup my crotch with her mouth.

I would remember her eyes when they had been closed and lit up with unspeakable shame as her mouth travelled reluctantly across the white gusset of my knickers. She had performed outstandingly despite her reluctant and completely opposite nature.

I loved the memory of how her lipstick had made stains on my white satin knickers as she licked and French-kissed them humidly and gently. I would remember the sight of her wedding ring when she put her hand on my leg for better balance and her outraged expression as she knelt on the carpet in front of me. The nervousness in her breathing also remained intact in my memory. Nearly two years had gone by already since then and I still remembered every detail from that experience, that incredibly empowering experience.

During the first years in the university I had a steady boyfriend whom I loved and I was faithful to, but half of me was still possessed by that one experience I'd had with the maid. In bed I loved to be dominated by him, to get my hair pulled as he penetrated me from behind, to be called names by him as he spanked me on the ass, but I also needed to dominate, and for that I needed a woman.

As time went by and I started to reach better sexual maturity my sexual fantasies started to evolve. For as much as I loved my boyfriend as the straight woman I am, soon I realised I needed to bring a woman to the sex scene as well, namely a woman I disliked, so as to humiliate her. Little by little women started to play ever more important roles in my fantasies, if only in a mere decorative fashion, of course.

At the beginning I fantasised about sitting on the sofa and making out with my boyfriend while his most despicable ex-girlfriend Tina kissed my feet. In time, this fantasy had evolved and my imagination had become much more daring and influenced by my experience with the chambermaid: I would imagine the same scene, but I would also picture my boyfriend's hand on Tina's head forcing her to lick and suck my knickers as she looked me in the eyes just as pathetically as the maid had done. Sometimes I felt guilty and mentally ill when I reflected on my fantasies, but I just couldn't help the way they influenced my sex life.

I really craved for another chance to get worshipped by another woman, but the circumstances never proved favourable. Moreover, I only had such fantasies with the women I held grudges against and I didn't ever feel the wish to interact with them at all in real life, so I slowly began to get used to the thought of never getting to fulfil such unrealistic fantasies ever again.

Luckily however, the moment for my fantasy came sooner than I would have expected it to. I was already twenty-two years old and was half-way through my years studying Economics. Back then I was sharing a lecture theatre with Michelle Byornbye, that year's Beauty Queen for our Campus. She was a very beautiful blonde Manx girl, but her character was to me quite rotten. She talked her friends down and poked fun of people often.

She seemed like a complete hypocrite to me, the typical popular alpha girl. The problem was that I was also an alpha girl, I'd always been, and sometimes there can't be two alpha girls without there being trouble.

I have always been mean; what I did to the chambermaid when I was eighteen hadn't been my only rotten deed, though the only one of its kind. However, there is something that Michelle did to someone else that completely crossed the line, something far worse and which made me confront her on the spot.

One day, a girl from her group of friends named Linda came to the university with a broken arm. It turns out she had tripped and fallen when she was playing tennis with her boyfriend the previous weekend. Michelle had some sort of problem with her that day and, as we stood outside the lecture theatre in the gangway she began to say very offensive things to her.

-Linda, did you lose your mind when you became lame or are you lame because you were already dumb? Seriously Linda, your stupidity just finds better ways to manifest itself with every passing day; let's hope you don't break your other arm before the week is over...

The small crowd of girls all laughed at Michelle's remarks as Linda grinned back while blushing in shame and trying not to break. I don't know exactly what they had been arguing about but I couldn't take it. I felt terrible for Linda so I spoke up.

-Take that back, Michelle! -I shouted to her. She turned towards me across the floor with a surprised expression.

-Oh look who knows my name! -She replied. -And what's it to you, Ms I-wear-nothing-but-skanky-skirts?

-You don't need to put her down like that! -I argued.

-Oh really? -she said sarcastically. -Listen, if you want to go moral on me, then maybe you should consider not dressing like a slut every day when you come here and begin to set the example yourself...

The surrounding crowd made a sound.

-My choice in clothing has nothing to do with this, Michelle, so don't try to make your inferiority complex about me- I said assertively... -Now tell Linda you're sorry; apologise to her or there will be consequences...

The crowd made a sound again.

-Oh please! -She said followed by a wicked laugh- If you want to be Linda's friend that's fine, but you'll see she'll always crawl back to me... won't you Linda?

Linda said nothing and only glared back at her. Michelle then turned around and slowly left the scene followed by her group of female fans and surrounded by chatter and wicked laughter. Linda looked at me with certain gratitude as she walked away in the opposite direction to weep in the ladies room.

I had not won, but neither had Michelle and everyone present looked at me with admiration for having been brave enough to intervene. As I left I heard one of the guys tell his neighbour how he would have loved to see a cat fight instead. His idiocy made me grin instead of upsetting me.

I honestly wasn't sure what would happen next, what "consequences" there would be for the wicked Michelle, and for a while I wished I should have not spoken up or threatened her. I had no idea what I would do now to make my threat count.

I went to the library that afternoon to do some research for my next paper on Macroeconomics and get my mind off things, when something quite unexpected happened. As I sat there reading, someone approached me from behind and tapped me on the shoulder. When I turned to see who it was I saw a familiar young woman's face. I immediately recognised her to be Diana, one of the girls from Michelle's female fan club.

-I think what you did back there was very admirable. - She told me. -If you are interested, I might have some information that can help you drag Michelle through the mud.

-Why would you want to help me? -I asked.

- I know it doesn't seem that way but first of all because it's the right thing to do, and secondly because I really hate Michelle Byornbye.

-Seriously?

-Yes, seriously. She always flirts with the guys I meet and gets all their attention as the so called Beauty Queen. She always eclipses Linda too and is always flirting with her boyfriend.

-So why are you friends with her?

-I don't know- she explained- but I don't care anymore. Today she's crossed the line and she has lost her right to anyone's friendship...

After all this, Diana sat next to me and revealed everything I needed to know to bring Michelle down.

-Promise to tell nobody else but her, and please don't tell her it was I who told you. -She asked.

I promised, and the next day I would put my plan into action. The information Diana had provided me with she had given me in such detail that there was no way it couldn't be true. However, I was still worried that it be an elaborate scheme, and I didn't want to end up as the one being ridiculed or blackmailed. Whatever the case may be, I couldn't turn away now and I had to go through with it. It was either Michelle's social demise or mine.

The following day I had my driver take me to Michelle's house in the evening. She lived in the same costly part of town where my flat was, so it didn't take long. Diana had let me know that Michelle would be there. I wore a short light blue skirt and a white blouse. I also brought my Economics book as part of the manoeuvre, so as to look harmless.

Once I had knocked, a kind mature woman came to the door.

-How may I help you? -she inquired.

-Hi, I'm Catherine, a friend of Michelle's from the university. Is she here?

- But of course, please do come in, she's in the pool out back. Would you like anything to drink?

-No, thank you Mrs Byornbye, I just had a cup of tea.

Michelle lay floating in an inflatable tube in her pool and was wearing a flowery two-piece swimsuit and a blindfold over her eyes.

-Hello, Michelle. -I said. She pulled her blindfold off her eyes and looked at me with confusion.

-You! Just what do you think you're doing here? -she interrogated.

-I need to talk to you. -I said. - I have an important matter to discuss with you.

-Oh yes? Well you have no more than five minutes! How dare you interrupt my sunbath like this...

-It's a very important matter regarding your title as the Beauty Queen, Michelle, a very delicate one which I won't discuss here, so in your best interest, shall we retire to the privacy of your pool house instead?

I kept a smile on my face all throughout. I could tell that she suspected what my visit was about and I had caught her attention. She got out of the swimming pool with a surly expression in her face, dried up and then led me into the pool house across a little garden. She seemed a bit shook up, like she suspected what was going on, but she didn't say a word given her aversion towards me.

Once we were in the pool house she locked the main door behind us and we both sat on opposite sides of a coffee table, I on a sofa-chair and she on a normal chair. The two queens were facing each other across the chessboard; now victory came down to who moved more wisely.

-What is this about? -she asked.

-Does the name Marelize Copper say anything to you?

Her facial expression changed and became somewhat sombre.

-Yes -she said. -She and I used to be best friends. What about her?

- Where is she now?

- She went back home long ago.

-You mean she committed suicide... -I replied. -Why was that? -I asked. I could tell she felt uncomfortable with the interrogation, but she still answered my question, as she suspected what was coming.

- My father... one of his men persuaded her to leave the country...

- Because of those pictures, right? - I said. -Because of those incriminating pictures she had taken of you...

-No, because she was in danger.

- Yes, another one of your father's hired goons was about to kill her, and shortly after she arrived to East London she committed suicide out of sheer frustration.

-Stop it! -she said. -How do you know all this? -she asked angrily.

-My father knows people in Scotland Yard -I replied. -The case has been reopened and it doesn't look good for you or your father.

Suddenly, she was speechless.

-Marelize was a lesbian. -She confessed. -She was using the pictures to take revenge on me for not wanting her.

-Those pictures -I continued -were taken by Marelize, and they were the only proof of how you really earned your beauty crown: You slept with professor Steinhauer so he would put in a good word for you.

-How dare you! -she protested. -I would have won with or without his help!

- That's not the way the deacon would see this if it got out, don't you think? In addition to that I think your forged marks from school could also upset him. Also your father extorting Marelize could also make things complicated, and there is no way you can prove that you were being blackmailed. There is no evidence of that.

All I have to do is tell my daddy to tell his friends in Scotland Yard that you are my friend and all this will go away. You won't be expelled and your father won't go to prison on grounds of extortion and vehicular manslaughter, I promise...

- Those pictures have been destroyed, so stop wasting your time! -She said.

-Marelize made other copies, Michelle, and I've already seen them. I think my favourite one is where you're undoing Professor Steinhauer's belt, it's full of suspense...

Michelle stared at the floor without looking at my malicious face.

-What do you want from me? -she finally asked. Her tone had changed from demanding and arrogant to almost apologetic.

-I want you to apologise to Linda for what you did yesterday. -I said.

-I already did that... -she said. -I apologised to her in private.

-Well, this time you'll apologise to her in front of the entire class.

She sighed with defeat, and I kept my eyes fixed on her.

-Anything else? -she asked.

-Do you know my name, Michelle?

-No...

-My name is Catherine Walsh...

12