He sighed. It was true. One of DJ’s first acts upon realizing his power was to rewrite the rules on his floor. He showered with the girls on his floor (and once one of his guy’s girlfriend), slept with them (literally, figuratively, sometimes both), sometimes just took a few minutes to ogle and fondle under the auspices of “dress code inspection.”
Moreover, there was Brittney, and there was Emily.
“Yeah, that’s pretty much it. I want to start by saying I like you, Ashley, and that I’ve never thought of myself as a hypocrite. Whatever behavioral expectations I have for you as my girlfriend, I want to abide by them myself. I promise—”
“Keep ‘em.”
He stopped short. Then he nearly side-swiped a semi in the right lane as he looked at her goggle-eyed. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I said, ‘keep ‘em.’ Which I already said at game night, and twice more this weekend. Now that you’re done babbling, and trying to kill us, let me go on to explain my conditions.”
“No conditions, Ashley. I don’t want a girlfriend who sleeps with a bunch of other guys, and I won’t do that to you in return.”
“Do you remember Sigrid the masseuse? That receptionist with the unpronounceable name? Remember me bringing them in and playing with myself while you banged their brains out?”
“Um, yeah.”
“I get off on watching almost as much as I get off being watched, Deej. Not too quick on the uptake on that, are ya?” She tsked at him. “You’re only young once, and you’re freaking supernaturally gifted to boot. Use your gift—this thing you have was meant to be used, for fuck’s sake, not ignored because your giny started tingling over me.”
DJ considered, ignoring her spite. “How do I know that’s not just the power making you say that? That you’re not just putting up with it?”
“Well first off, you know I would put up with it, so let’s not kid ourselves. That being said, if I were actually so totally cowed by you, I wouldn’t have my conditions.”
He smiled a little. That actually reassured him somewhat. “All right, conditions. Go ahead.”
“First—I want veto power on a case by case basis. I don’t like a bitch, you don’t touch a bitch.” She paused, fidgeting a little. “If, um, if that’s OK with you.”
“It’s OK, Ashley. You didn’t offend me.”
She let out a breath she’d been subconsciously holding. “Good. Damn, you have no idea how strong that anxiety can get sometimes.”
“Sorry—I can’t control it, or I’d exempt you. Anyway, that’s fine. More than fair—generous, even.”
“Good. Condition two—I don’t always want to watch, but I always want to be able to watch. If you’re about to nail somebody, shoot me a text or something so I can come if I want.”
“Sure—I’d need to anyway per the first condition, right?”
She nodded. “So that’s settled. Three. If I’m going to let you sleep around with random girls, I want to be able to bring in girls of my choosing.”
He glanced over at her. She was dead serious. “So… you’re saying you want to pimp me out?”
“Not for money or anything—obviously if we need money we can just walk into a bank and take it. But maybe I just want to show you off, or maybe some smart-assed cunt could use a cock in her mouth. Or whatever.”
“All right,” he conceded, a little more hesitantly. He didn’t like the idea of using his cock to punish the many people who stumbled upon one of the many ways to piss off his girlfriend, but fair was fair if she was going to let him sleep around. Still… “Just… try to keep them north of average-looking, OK?”
She laughed. “Yeah, yeah, Romeo. And finally… I want to be queen of your floor.”
DJ blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re their king—you rule the land with an iron fist and all, got everybody doing whatever you say. I want the same.”
“Ash, I just did that so I’d have a pretense in place to mess around with the hot girls.”
“Well it’s not my fault you’re short-sighted. If I wanna borrow someone’s clothes or help myself to a cool poster or just take a dump in some bitch’s shower caddy, I want the freedom to do it.”
“But… why? I don’t even get why you’d want to do those things. I can loan you my credit card whenever you need one—hell, I can just get you your own—and… well, I hope you’re not going to start crapping in my residents’ stuff.”
“Look, if we’re going to be a couple and I’m going to be surrounded all the time by people kissing your ass and terrified of upsetting you, I just want us to be on even footing. That’s all. I don’t want to be sitting there feeling like I’m more a part of Them than I am of Us.”
Her sweet smile beamed at him.
“All right. We’ll have a floor meeting as soon as I can arrange one.”
Ashley rewarded his compliance with some slow, thorough road head. She was still going when they got into town, and didn’t stop when a motorcycle cop pulled them over. DJ rolled down the window and smiled apologetically at the uniformed officer as Ashley moaned theatrically with the tip of his dick in her throat. “Sorry, sir, she’s just too good to me.”
“Well… she sure is,” the man said awkwardly. “Just try to be careful, all right, sir?”
“You got it, officer.”
Ashley pulled up to suggest DJ have the officer escort them home, but he just rolled his eyess and pushed her head back down, which she seemed only too happy to tolerate.
During his absence, he’d gotten texts from Emily and Brittney, as well as his weekly pose from his step-sister Lauren and her friends Jody and Brianne, a trio hot enough to make him want to take another trip to his hometown then and there. Ashley had loved hearing about his shenanigans back home, and said she hoped to visit next time he went back.
As for his college ladies, Emily’s texts were just a few pleas to know about his whereabouts and time of return along with offers of what she might do for him when he did; he silenced her with a simple command not to contact him again until he contacted her.
Brittney just texted him once, the second night he was gone. Her message said, very simply, I miss you. DJ had gotten it in the bathroom.
He didn’t reply. Neither did he tell Ashley about it.
Ashley, of course, had been checking his messages whenever she managed to part him with his phone. She knew something was up between DJ and that prom queen bimbo; the way he avoided talking about her, for one, and for two… well, Ashley wasn’t blind.
Still, she liked that he didn’t respond. Ignoring was good, much better than sneaking around behind her back. Especially, she acknowledged grudgingly, because if he said he wanted to keep spending time with that cunt, Ashley knew she’d cave in a heartbeat. All of her plans for wrapping DJ around her finger were built on that shaky foundation of knowing that ultimately, she’d give him whatever he wanted.
The trick, she’d learned, was helping him choose what he wanted.
He wanted to feel like a boyfriend, that much was obvious. So she met his friends and played their stupid game (and even managed to salvage some fun out of it loaning out that little tramp Rachael’s pussy to that horndog Logan). She went on a romantic getaway. She sucked his cock like it was her favorite thing.
She didn’t hate blowjobs, to be honest; still, there weren’t many girls who genuinely loved it and preferred it to actual sex, and she was typical in this regard. It just didn’t hurt to have DJ thinking she was crazy about him—let him know it wasn’t her fav, then do it anyway, so the dork thinks she’d go to the ends of the earth for him.
Which she would. If he asked, she’d have no choice. If he didn’t, she’d go just to salvage that marvelous influence of his.