He undressed in a daze, not even taking the time to put his clothes away passing out on the bed. It wasn't late, before 9PM, but he had been traumatized by the events at the men's house, by seeing Catherine tortured,
by her desire for pain!
His sleep was equally tortured, images of Yvette taunting him, the constant 'favors' she demanded of him.
He looked up to see Lyssa and Yvette in his parent's bedroom.
"You've outdone yourself, Lyssa! These are amazing!" Yvette stood back from the bed admiring the several outfits laid out in front of them.
He was naked, as had become the routine. Whenever Lyssa came over, Yvette expected him to be completely undressed. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the rainbow of colors in front of him.
They had him try everything on, one after the other. With each bit of silk rubbing against his skin he got harder, until by the last outfit, his peter was throbbing and pushing out from the top of the waistband.
He watched, dumbfounded as Lyssa got down on her knees, peeled the panties down and leaned forward, lightly kissing his penis.
"Nooo," he moaned, his hands trying to push her away. "It's too dirty...." But his arms were like lead weights, his hands couldn't move. He felt her lips, wet and silky, drift over his head, her tongue swirling along it, forcing him to buck his hips forward. "Nooo...please..."
The sound of her sucking on him changed and he opened his eyes into the darkened room, his penis sliding into a wet warm mouth. Looking down he saw June's hair, silvery blond in the light from the hall, glistening as she moved against him. He felt her sliding off him, her face tilting back to smile at him.
"I told you I'd return the favor, Chester. I don't like to welch on a deal."
Before he could stop her, she slid back over him, wet and hot. It wasn't like Corrine, or Roxie, or Catherine's rectum. Her rectum! June was sucking on his peter after it had been in the dirtiest of all places! He only relaxed a little after remembering the hot shower and the hard scrubbing he'd given himself...when was it? He looked over at the clock and saw it was midnight.
Nooo...I've got to get some sleep!
June's attention to his penis resulted in it getting hard again, although not as hard as it had been witnessing Catherine's punishment. He pulsed at the memory, inspiring her to continue whatever she had been doing. Her fingers wormed their way under his thighs, pulling him into her as deeply as she could manage, which, in her case was nothing like Roxie. She barely had the head against the back of her mouth, her tongue twisting around him. He could feel her saliva dripping onto his pubic bone.
She pulled up, sucking along the shaft and slipped down again. Almost, but not quite pulling off him, she continued her rhythm, her fingers pulling his cheeks apart until he felt the tips against his anus. He couldn't stop her, he didn't want to stop her, even as he was disgusted by what she was doing. Why did these women all want to suck his semen out of his penis? His hands drifted to her hair, his fingers curling through the strands.
Encouraged by his movements, and feeling him enlarge slightly, June went into high gear, moving her wet mouth up and down in double-time. She knew he had to be close and she wanted to taste him. Moments later she was rewarded, a splurt of cum erupted from him as he arched his back up to meet her. She held him against her mouth, as deeply as she could until he relaxed back down and his cock began to deflate. Swallowing the remaining dribbles, she kept him in her mouth, her head resting on his belly.
"Thank you, Chester," she said quietly, after pulling off him. "I was feeling bad taking so much from you and not giving anything back."
His fingers pulled gently at her hair, distractedly, as he felt himself get limp. Now, besides the throbbing pain he knew he would suffer tomorrow, he felt an irritation on his skin, as if June had given him a rug burn.
"Was it okay?" She looked up at him, her eyes almost invisible.
"It was great, June," he whispered, looking away. He pulled his hands away from her head and tried to turn. "I've got to get some sleep...please." His voice was barely a whisper but he felt he had whined.
She nodded and slipped off him and off the bed, softly padding to the door. "Thanks, Chester. I hope it was good for you."
He turned away, feeling wet and spent and burning.
* - * - * - *
"Chester!"
He felt the push against his shoulder and jerked his head up. Disoriented, he looked around at the lecture hall, students gathering their books, jackets and backpacks, the echo of the whispered shout in his ear. He turned to see Catherine staring down at him, surprise and...fear? on her face. He shook his head, realizing he'd fallen asleep.
Fallen asleep! In Morten's lecture?!!!
"Hi Catherine...wha...I must have dozed off..." He had never fallen asleep in a lecture before. His anxiety began to grow. All of the sexuality activity was clearly taking a toll on his vitality.
"Chester," Catherine half-whispered, looking around at the emptying lecture hall. "What are you doing here?"
"I...what? I, uhhh, I've got Morten's class at 1PM every Tuesday. What?"
"I've never seen you here before." She was still whispering, fear now clearly written on her face. "You...we...you know what you have to do...," she tipped her head down, putting her backpack on the floor. "Right?"
He had no idea what was going on. If he didn't get moving soon, he'd be late for his 2:30 debate. "What are you talking about, Catherine? Do?" He started to collect his things. There were only a couple of stragglers heading out the doors.
"No! You can't move. You can't go. Not yet. Not until..." She stopped him, and made him look up at her face. Tears were forming in her eyes. "John. Millard. You know what they'll do to me if you don't."
He had a good idea of what they'd do to her, but he had no idea what she was implying. "I'm sorry, Catherine, I really don't know what you are saying."
"God damnit," she whispered, turning to face the stage several rows in front of them. The lecture hall was steeply sloped, the rows of chairs cascading down. From where they were sitting, about 10 rows up, they could be clearly seen from anywhere in the room. They were alone. "Fuck."
He watched as she bent over the back of the seat, reached back and lifted her wool skirt above her waist. Her lingerie, Devereaux, he noticed, light pink and typically conservative, covered her backside. As he watched, she pulled down her panties as far as she could, exposing her cheeks. The fog hadn't cleared completely from his mind; he was completely baffled by what she was doing. He did notice a fine network of burst blood vessels on her behind, where John's or Millard's blows had left a lingering impression.
"Five," she said, looking back at him, her hands resting on the seat's armrests. Her body was bent at an angle, her head below her waist. "And you have to mean it. They'll know if you don't."
"What? What five, Catherine? What are you going on about?" He could feel his peter hardening at the thought of what they would do to her. He still wasn't sure what she was asking...demanding...of him.
"For crying out loud, Chester! Five spanks! Isn't it obvious? Shit! Before someone comes in. Hard, Chester. As hard as you can!" She was practically spitting.
Her tone made him jump out of his seat and stand to the side of her. Her bottom looked so pale around the light bluish/purple bruises. He brought his hand down lightly to stroke it, to feel her skin. It was tight and warm.
"Spank you?" He moved his hand lightly. "Why should I spank you? What is going on Catherine?" He couldn't stop feeling her skin.
"Fuck, Chester!" She was still whispering, exasperated. "John. Millard. They told you I'd have to do something the next time I saw you. This is it! Five. Fast. Hard. Before someone comes in and sees us! Please!"
Her urgency caused him to raise his hand back. He'd never done anything like this. Nobody had demanded he spank them. Nothing Yvette had ever done came close to this perversity. He brought his hand down, hard and flat against her cheeks, watching them jiggle just as she screamed.
