“No,” she protested, “this isn’t a game. Your slut wants to serve you, all the time. Be a good girl. That’s your slut’s life, now, ”
“You don’t have to actually keep calling yourself my slut, either.”
“Your fuck toy apologizes. She’ll try to use more variety from now on when she reminds you of what a devoted pleasure slave she is. Just please let her please you. It is all she wants now, sir.”
He eyed her. “Emily… you can’t really mean this.”
“Your cum guzzler promises you that she does. Obeying you, pleasing you, that’s all that matters to her now. Please, let her prove it to you, sir. Do you want her to move in with you? Your little tramp could stay under the bed, or in the closet or something, whenever she’s in your way. You could tattoo your ownership on me, if you wanted. She’ll sell everything she owns and give you the money. Anything, sir. Let her prove it!”
He stared at her. “Seriously?”
She nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Why?”
She looked down for a time, silently. “Your slut just needs to know she’s a good girl.”
“Emily, you are. You so are.”
“That’s sweet, sir, but I—she—needs to feel it, not just hear you say it. It’s in her head, just… something she has to do.”
“What would help you feel it, then?”
“Your slutty little plaything wants to obey you without hesitating, enthusiastically. Give her commands or guidelines so she knows what to do, sir.”
“Hmmm…” DJ gave himself a moment to think. There was definitely something more than a little off about her, though he couldn’t for the life of him guess what. Maybe she was just super-susceptible to his power somehow? That tolerating him, to her, meant not just complying, but these extra layers of servility? Whatever it was, it was obviously causing her some anxiety, and he felt bad for her. He wanted her to get that feeling she was chasing so desperately.
“All righty, you said you wanted to prove it… so prove it.”
“Sir?”
“You want to feel like you’re my good, obedient girl, so go prove you are. You had some suggestions—use them. Use that brain of yours. But no moving in, though,” he added. Whether or not she’d be willing, having her lurking in his closet whenever he was fucking another girl would be just too creepy.
She nodded. “Your fuck bunny will, sir. Would you like her to go do it now? Some of those will be hard to do at this hour.”
“Tomorrow will do. Tonight, I got other plans. Go get Abby for me, will you, slut?”
It was several hours later when the panting trio collapsed onto DJ’s bed. He’d had his cock in both pussies, both mouths, Emily’s tightly wound little butt and Abby’s more generously proportioned titties for hours, and when he’d needed to regain his energy, he just put the girls to work on each other. Abby grumbled and dragged her feet over it, but Emily was all too eager to suck and lick anything DJ wanted to put in her mouth. Exhausted, he had the girls get dressed and go to their own rooms, telling Emily he’d text her when he wanted to see her again, and Abby that he’d see her on Saturday night for rounds.
He slept like a baby, feeling like he might have just done a little good helping Emily act out her weird little fantasy. He still felt a little bad for how he’d handled her their first night together, breaking up Charlie and Ashley’s little illicit rendezvous, honestly. It seemed she’d long since gotten over it, though, and if her actions these past few days were any measure, might even have enjoyed it.
Friday, DJ resolved, he really must make himself go to class. It wasn’t just an obligation—it had become a quest. A crusade.
He woke up early to finish homework and reading, submitted a couple assignments online. By the time his opponents struck, his defenses were prepared, and none too soon; he and his willpower had an epic battle ahead of it.
A text from Ashley: cum fuk me asshole. He dodged, ignoring the text, and avoided the worst of the damage.
A text from Emily: Good morning, sir. May I please you in any way this morning? He issued a quick counter-thrust. Good girls don’t need so much hand-holding. It silenced his foe, for now.
Another text from Ashley, this time a picture of her great big knockers pent up in a white lacy bra with a pink ribbon on the front, followed by a text. dont keep them waiting 2 long… Again, dodged, though by less this time—those titties were her strongest weapon, after all. His cock stirred in his pants at the grazing blow.
A knock at the door—they were done trying to pound through his armor. His reflexes were worthless here; it was time to test his endurance. “Breakfast for you, sir,” came Emily’s voice through the door. “I know you’re in there, I can see you through the peephole.” He still didn’t reply; maybe she was bluffing. Just hold on a little while longer… “You don’t even want to see what your slut is wearing? It’s incredibly slutty, sir…”
His codpiece was so badly dented (outward) from the assault it was barely attached. “Emily, just leave the food outside my room. I’m busy,” he barked, a desperate parry. Other than a pouty “yes, sir” there was nothing further. He might just make it through this yet.
Another text from Ashley, this time a thorough description of the many things she wanted to do to his cock, and some rather self-assured approximations of how much he would enjoy them. She was probably right on the mark, though. He dropped his shield and started typing a reply, ready to tell her to come on over, satisfy his every lustful whim, when his alarm went off to tell him it was time for class. The reminder pumped just enough healing potion into his life bar to set down the phone and pack for class.
He’d made it. Dressed, groomed, his backpack slung over his shoulder with assignments prepared, DJ opened the door and released his battered willpower into the world.
Where a mighty dragon named Brittney swooped by and incinerated it in an instant.
Chapter Five
It had been several days since Brittney Jenner had seen DJ, not since that day he’d made a bet that lead to her blowing him under a table at the cafeteria and then leaving with Ashley Vandoren. She knew he’d been keeping himself busy; she lived just a short ways down the hall from him, after all, and the noises she’d heard made her certain of it. This morning, Mercedes had told her about the incident a few nights back where he and another RA, Emily something, had broken up a party and basically assaulted some girl with a vodka bottle in the ass. According to her rooommate’s account of things, the girl had been admitted to the hospital. Brittney sincerely hoped this was just a rumor.
Mercedes was getting to the part of the story where they had screaming loud sex in the first floor lounge when she heard someone knocking on a door, offering someone breakfast, pointing out how sluttily she was dressed.
“Emily, just leave the food outside my room. I’m busy,” she heard his familiar voice say through his door. Curious, Brittney opened her door and peered out. There the girl was, slender but with a cute face and nice butt (if you liked them tight, anyway). She wasn’t joking about the slutty outfit either, if you could call it that—a pair of lacy red panties and matching bra not-at-all covered by a filmy negligee. She left a tray behind with some mixed fruit and a croissanwich.
Brittney was herself still in her bathrobe after her morning shower, but this changed her plans. She hustled down the hallway and caught up with the girl.
“Hey,” Brittney said as she jogged up behind her.