Mind control and fetish

I’m Sophia. I’m in my second year of college now, but this all happened during my first year. I’m not allowed to tell you where, but it’s in the upper Midwest. Smart, well-rounded people go here, or at least people that think they’re smart.

I don’t consider myself a genius, but am generally pretty studious, with some serious drive (it’s how I got into this school in the first place) and a quieter disposition, which left me steering clear of most social events my first month.

My incoming class was over-subscribed (more students said Yes than they expected) so housing was tight and they had to move some older students off-campus. I lucked out, getting a single in a suite (rather than a shared double like most of my classmates), and with two amazing roommates, Cassie and Kate. We had a fourth suite-mate Julie, who was a sophomore, but she was a different story entirely. In fact, let me start with her.

In a space that small (we each had a small bedroom that opened into a shared space large enough for a couch and our tv, and we shared a bathroom), there wasn’t much hidden among the four of us. I’m a little more conservative than the rest of them, but when it was just us girls, we were down to bras and panties pretty quick, fixing hair, judging outfits, gossiping about boys. What we knew, what we didn’t, what we wanted to know. Julie mostly filled in the ‘what we knew’ category.

Julie was a dishwater blond from the East Coast who came one week early for cross-country, and informed us when we arrived later that week that she was at school primarily to find a hubby. I don’t think she was alone in that strategy, but her technique boggled my sheltered mind: Sex first, to check compatibility. ‘If the sex doesn’t work, how will the relationship?’ was what she said. So she lived that mantra to the fullest – and we spent most of a semester living just one thin wall away from her efforts (which seemed like less and less of an effort as time went on). The first month we mostly just heard guys grunting, and she tended to kick them out by midnight. But by the end of the semester she was choosing better, and there seemed to be mutual enjoyment that lasted the whole night through. In early December she met Charlie, saw him six (loud) nights in a row, and then moved out by the end of the week – right before her finals! She hadn’t done much in the way of classwork anyway, so our suite became just the three of us, and they didn’t end up replacing her the following semester, which turned out to be fortuitous for the rest of us (well, more or less).

That first month she brought someone home every Friday and Saturday night, without fail (and a different guy each night, except once when I think she was drunk and didn’t realize it was the same guy – she sent him home before the sex). From the various things we heard through the wall from her “partners,” her technique rarely changed. First she delivered a sloppy blow-job, which they invariably seemed to enjoy quite a bit. It embarrassed me to no end to hear the slurping, and the moaning, and sometimes the begging. It usually got worse from there. We had had one awkward conversation about if she might want to tone down the noise a bit, but none of us were willing to push her on it, and she told us we were just prudes who ought to instead be embracing our sexuality – ‘it’s what college is all about.’ So, she kept on with the noisy sex, and we mostly cowered in our rooms Friday and Saturday nights. Though during the daylight hours the 4 of us got on fairly well.

But one night in mid-October, Cassie and I had gone out to dinner, and Kate was home with her family for the weekend. We got back to the room at 10:30, having stopped by a friends’ party and had a few beers (well, Cassie had 2 and I had 1, enough for tipsying, but not enough to try and bring someone home – that was something I had barely even contemplated. And Julie’s technique more than made up for my timidity). Julie had made her move early this night – and when we got to the door we could hear them even from the hall as Cassie took out her keys.

“Oh god Jill, suck it, suck it. Right there. Perfect. Take me deeper now. Use your tongue. Yes, yes, yes!”

And then Julie (it’s not THAT hard a name to remember)… “Oh baby, please come on my tits, please, please John, I need it.”

Cassie and I had heard it before, and we exchanged a glance and a drunken giggle, and tip-toed quietly into the suite so as not to disturb the lust-birds. Cassie’s room was on the left, then Julie’s, then the bathroom, then my room on the far right, then Kate’s room on the near right. Cassie peeled off to her room on the left, and I took three steps toward my room… and stopped cold. Julie had broken our only real ‘sex rule’ – she hadn’t shut her door.

John (if Julie had his name right) was on the taller side, and quite well built, with rippling chest muscles and some serious pecs. His skin had a darker tint to it, maybe from Central America or the Middle East. Every one of his muscles was in sharp relief in the dim light and glowing with sweat – and they were all tensed to the utmost as he got ready to come. Julie was kneeling before him, in just her favorite pink panties, both hands wrapped around his generous penis. And it was pretty generous indeed. We used to joke about how big her hands were (you know, big hands = big boobs), but right now Julie’s hands looked small. And they were moving in a swirling motion, sliding up and down and around in smooth strokes, holding his penis tilted down at an angle, just inches above her ample breasts.

I need to pause for a moment to talk about Julie’s breasts, which at this point in the year I’d seen plenty of. They were far and away the nicest breasts in our suite, and we all knew it. I don’t care if that makes me sound like a lesbian, it’s true. She usually wore a too-small C-cup bra, which was a choice of cleavage emphasis over functionality, and her nipples were a gorgeous soft pink, raspberry-sized when hard (which seemed to pretty much be always – that girl was made for sex), firm and pointing straight out (as opposed to Cassie’s which had a lot of areola and tiny nipples, or Kate’s which were a little upturned as if presenting a little treat to her partner). On Julie’s somewhat skinny frame with her slender runner’s waist, they could have been too much, but somehow she made them look just right.

And my eyes and mind were full of that gorgeous phallus being stroked slowly above those two perfect breasts.

When I finally raised my eyes, my mouth gaping, John was staring right into my eyes, smirking. I froze. I felt frozen in place. My hearing dimmed out like I was in a tunnel, and the edges of my vision darkened. His smile widened, he winked at me, and then he began shooting his spunk all over Julie’s bare breasts.

“Oh yes baby, give it to me” she said, aiming his spurts at each breast in turn.

My eyes were locked with his, but I could see every blast in my peripheral vision. They seemed to come in time with the loud heartbeats in my ears, temporarily drowning out their moans. In moments it was over, her breasts thoroughly coated, her two hands rubbing her moistened tits, as she dipped her head to take his softening prick back in her mouth, moaning and humming contentedly to herself. The whole time he never broke eye contact, while I waited like a deer to see how the spell would be broken. I knew what was coming next, even if John didn’t.

Right on cue Julie pulled her mouth off his tumescent, glistening penis to say: “Well, I better get you big and hard again if I’m going to ask you to fuck me…”

At that he broke eye contact and looked down, putting a massive hand on each side of her head. The spell was broken with an almost visceral pop, and I stumbled back a few steps shaking my head. I looked to my left and saw Cassie in her room, her back leaning against their shared wall, eyes shut, lips open, whole body shaking, with both hands plunged down the front of her jeans. Without a sound, and carefully not looking at her or Julie’s room, I went in and shut my door.

I felt dirty, used, raw, vulnerable. I was a virgin, truth be told, and that was the first penis I’d ever seen live. I tried to keep up with my suitemates in banter, but I truly knew so little. I was overheated, and I couldn’t bear to put on my usual nightgown, so I took off all my clothes and lay on my bed squeezing my eyes shut. But I couldn’t get that image out of my head, his penis floating above her breasts, his eyes boring into mine, Cassie’s frantic shaking, all that sperm… and my fingers kept creeping down my stomach. Finally I gave in and jilled myself off in time to the rhythmic pounding coming from Julie’s room, her moaning and John grunting. Julie’s taunts about sexuality and shame rang in my head, and I wanted desperately to raise my voice with hers as we both raced toward climax, her on John’s penis, me on my fingers. I wanted to show her that I wasn’t a prude, wasn’t ashamed of my sexuality, that I was bold and loud and a woman. I wanted John to be jealous of the power of my orgasm, to think he’d made the wrong choice in Julie. But I couldn’t make myself do it, and instead I had a quiet, powerful orgasm on my side of the wall, before drifting off to sleep.

The next morning I stayed in my room until I was sure they had gone to brunch. I came out then to brush my teeth, and Cassie did the same. We shared one guilty look between us, but not a word was spoken. Julie came back after brunch and told us the sex with John was the best she’d had this semester, but not good enough. Back to the drawing board for her, and it would be another 6 weeks before she finally met her match… In the meantime, the rest of us still had to pass Prof Wrackoff’s Ab Psych class…

Cassie and Kate and I had found ourselves in Abnormal Psychology 101 together, with Professor Peter Wrackoff (not his actual name obviously). We all had an inkling that maybe we wanted to major in psych, and this was one of the requirements if we did. We were thrilled to have the same class, it was the only one we overlapped in, and it made studying and learning a LOT easier. Prof Wrack as we called him, was generally pretty decent. He obviously enjoyed the material and was super-knowledgeable. He helped humanize schizophrenics for us and redefined ‘normal’ in opposition to abnormal. He patiently suffered through our titters about various fetishes that were covered in the textbook, reminding us that sexuality ought to be appreciated in all its forms. He maintained frequent office hours and offered the occasional study session to help out the under-achievers. Our crew didn’t need any of that (well, Cassie struggled sometimes), but it was nice to know it existed. Wrack was a white guy almost 6 feet tall, with a thin brownish beard and fashionable glasses. Kate thought he was cute, I wasn’t so sure, and Cassie was indifferent.

The one thing about Wrack though was the swirling rumors. He announced on the first day that it was to be his last year at the school, despite being tenured, and Kate was instantly concerned. Kate was the most studious among us, and was also considering pre-med, so grades might matter. She spent the first weeks chatting up some of the older students in the class and came back to Cassie and I a little unsettled.

She shared her findings with us one Friday night as we got ready to go out to an off-campus party (Julie was already out for the night, though she would of course be back with her prey before too long).

“I heard this from three different juniors, so I think it’s true. He’s a easy grader, generally gives all A’s and B’s, and if you’re aiming for something higher you just need to see him during office hours and make a case for it. But that’s not the creepy part. They each swore separately that every year he picks one undergrad girl and has a steamy affair. They say the school’s been onto him for years, but they’ve never found any proof. Maybe that’s why this is his last year. Maybe the school finally caught him, but because he’s tenured they have to make him go quietly.”

“Well, students here are all over 18, cause we’re in college, so maybe not so much ‘creepy’ as a little weird.” Cassie offered, as she worked on her eyelashes in the mirror. Cassie had the most gorgeous dark brown eyes, which flashed with a gleam of intelligence whenever she did just about anything. Tonight she was trying out a more daring sparkly tube top and skirt combo than we’d seen her in before; it dipped in the back low enough to show her absence of a bra, and I expected her to get a lot of attention. As usual.

She was an incredible athlete, but hadn’t been specifically recruited for anything. She chose our school for the academics and the distance from home (she wanted to get away), but she had decided to walk on to the gymnastics team after a successful high school career, and so far was not having the best time of it. She liked the team atmosphere, but she said the coach was one of the more aggressive rah-rah types, and the pressure was causing her to under-perform.

Whatever her performance on the mat, her performance off was pretty strong. She had light brown skin that actually was the color of burnt caramel, totally unblemished, and an even muscularity in her arms and legs that I envied. She moved lightly on her feet and seemed almost to glide through the dorm, and she exuded a comfort in her skin that just made her easy to be around. There was a whole flock of boys that circled her, but she had maintained very little interest. She spent the first month pining for her high school boyfriend (they had broken up because of distance) and making teary-eyed late-night phone calls. She was finally over him, but wasn’t quite ready to tackle a college relationship.

“Well, it may be technically legal, and there’s nothing in the handbook that says professors can’t have relationships with students, but I still think it’s creepy – and that’s not the creepiest thing…” Kate broke back in. “From what I could tell, two of the three girls I talked to seemed to WANT to be chosen this year. They didn’t quite come out and say it, but I got the sense that they’d be thrilled to be the ones having an affair with Prof Wrackoff.”

“Maybe they have a daddy complex?” I offered. We broke into giggles. “But now that you mention it, isn’t our class mostly women?” We thought about it. It was true. It seemed like maybe 80% women. And that was generally unusual in a school that was pretty evenly divided, and a Major that also seemed to be evenly split.

“Huh. Strange.” said Kate. “Well, I guess I’ll keep asking around, but in the meantime, I’m not quite ready to ease off the studying. I want an A plus!”

* * * * *

By the time mid-terms finished and Thanksgiving break loomed, I’d forgotten all about Wrack and our conversations about his possible behaviors. I found the material pretty engaging, and I was scoring highly on the tests and quizzes. I was starting to think more seriously about a psych major. My other classes were a little harder, so I was paying more attention to them, but I was definitely enjoying Ab Psych. The material just kind of stuck in my head.

I also had met Dan, a cute sophomore with somewhat wavy bangs. We’d made out after a party, then again the next week, and then he invited me home the following weekend. We made out some more and I stumbled home at 1 in the morning, bleary-eyed and wired all at the same time, acutely aware of how hard my nipples were in the chilly night air, and wishing his hands were still gently tugging at them. I wasn’t ready to take my top off yet, but if he asked nicely the next weekend I probably wouldn’t say no. As I unlocked our suite door I shook my head to clear my mental image of his soft lips covering my breasts.

I found Kate in our suite bouncing off the walls. “I have to talk to you right now Sophia. This is serious.” Her words were tumbling out with barely a break between them. Kate had been frenetic for the past two weeks, since her short but intense fling with a bookworm-y peer had ended. Maybe they got back together? Why else would she be so agitated?

“I found out what’s wrong with Cassie!” Her words startled me. Kate had been talking to me for almost a month about her theory that Cassie was hiding something from us, maybe drug use. Kate felt like she’d been more distant, like a curtain had come down between her and us.

“She’s with Wrackoff! I mean, she’s his affair. She’s the one this year. Oh my god!” I pulled the story out of her slowly, in heated bursts. Cassie had told us she was going to a party with the gymnastics team, but Kate didn’t believe her, and had decided to follow her. “That’s why I didn’t go with you to the party. That and I’m tired of watching that Dan guy maul you on the dance floor. So I trailed her across campus, and then she went right into one of the faculty houses on the edge. I saw Wrackoff answer the door. I didn’t know what to think, and I was worried about her, so I ended up looking in the window to see what she was up to. Going into a faculty members house alone at 9 oclock at night is weird. Well, actually it took me three different windows.”

“You what Kate?? That’s some serious shit. He’s a professor. You can’t just spy on him.”

“Well Sophia, I’m glad I did.” Kate unfolded the details and I was speechless. “Professor Wrackoff was sitting in a chair in his dining room, at least I think it was his dining room, there was a big table and some candles on it and a bunch of chairs. He had his pants down around his ankles and his, his thingie was just out.” (Kate hadn’t gotten very far in her relationship with the bookworm, and was not particularly experienced before she got to college.) “Cassie was kneeling by his feet, and then she just started sucking on him, on his thing.”

“Kate, are you serious? Are you sure it was Cassie? Our Cassie??”

“That wasn’t it though Soph. After 10 minutes of that, she took off her own clothes, and got on top of him. Oh my god, you should have seen it, his, his dick just sliding into her. She just moved up and down him, letting it go so deep inside her, her head back, eyes closed, her hair flying, and he just sat there while she did it, with his hands on her hips guiding her. They went on like that for more than half an hour, except for when she turned around sit on him backwards.” Kate’s face was earnest and flushed bright red. Her breath was rapid.

“Wait, you looked in his window for 45 minutes?”

“Well, I had to make sure he wasn’t forcing her. And it didn’t seem like it. I don’t know what Cassie looks like when she orgasms, but I’d swear she came three or four times. Then he whispered in her ear and she got back down on her knees and sucked him off until I thought he came. I wasn’t sure, but it seemed like she was swallowing something. Anyway, then I got freaked out and it was so cold and I came back here and you weren’t here and she’s not here yet and what are we going to do?!”

“Well shit Kate, I don’t know. Cassie is obviously an adult, but I don’t like that she’s hiding things from us. I guess I can maybe see why she’s doing it though. Do you want to talk to her about it?”

“Yes. I do. I’m going to do it when she gets back, ok?”

“Do you want me there?”

“Not this time. You didn’t see it, and I don’t want to feel like we’re attacking her. Let me see what she says. Promise me you’ll have my back though?”

“Always.” I went to bed, all thoughts of Dan out of my head. What was going on?

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