Chapter One - An Idea Proposed
Sitting on the grass slope beside the library Sabbina gazes lazily across the lake. It's time to be getting back to her studies. Slowly she finishes the coffee in her flask. If only it weren't so pleasant with the early summer sun warming her oval face and long, chestnut hair. She gives in to temptation and, clasping her hands under her head, lays back musing on that last book she analysed.
With one mighty heave he snapped his bonds and bounded to gather her in his strong arms. 'At last,' he murmured as he untied the ropes that held her.
Sickening, sentimental, slush, she decides. But it's her own fault, choosing modern female pop stories as the subject for her thesis. Dreamily she redrafts it in her mind;
He struggled with his bonds, his temper gradually rising; finally he found a weakness. Angrily he worked until it gave and, free at last, rushed to her side. Her relief faded as having unfastened her legs he ignored her bound arms and violently ripped away her clothes. He forced her legs apart and savagely drove in his already hard manhood. His thrusts were vicious as he vent his anger on her, his grasping hands bruising her soft boobs, his tool hurting her dry tunnel. 'Please! Please! Be gentle.' He ignored her pleas as he emptied himself into her. 'Together at last,' he murmured as he finally withdrew. He untied her arms. 'Never again will I let another man have you.'
That was a fantasy she could relate to; there were times when she could wish to be that woman, to rouse that emotion and desire in a man, to be a vehicle for his pleasure and release. Not that she thought it very likely in this age of women's lib, with men too cowed by social pressures to allow their true natures to surface; deprived of the self esteem that is a prerequisite for the confidence required to satisfactorily take and service a woman.
Long ago she had decided that men were designed to dominate women - at least in bed. That's what she wanted, needed, a man with the knowledge and confidence to fully take and use her. Born too late it doesn't seem she will ever find one. Wishing she lived in a previous century she reluctantly returns to her research.
As she enters the library a tall, distinguished figure waiting beside the checkout counter moves, without apparent haste, to her side. 'Hi there, Miz Blunt,' he says.
'Why Professor Tobin it's good to see you again. How are you? How's your wife?'
'Oh, I'm fine. Can't say about Kate, though. She's my ex-wife now.'
Aha! He's quite a turn on with his tight ass and the small tufts of white in his sideburns. She'd really fancied him when they'd been involved in that experiment he'd run for the Department of Parapsychology - but then, regretfully, he'd been married. Now it seemed he was available, so get going girl, no more backing off!
'Sorry to hear you're alone, but what can I do for you?'
'Well, we've come up with a rather revolutionary hypothesis and need a volunteer for a preliminary test. It's so way out we haven't got a hope of getting a grant at this stage, but if it seems to work we can apply for funding to run a full experiment.'
'You want me?' He ignores, maybe doesn't notice, the double entendre.
'Please. I shouldn't say this, but the results from last time showed you were the most psychically sensitive of all our guinea pigs. Sorry, test subjects. . . Anyway we . . . I . . . think you are the most likely to succeed this time.'
He doesn't have to sell it to her, she has already decided to agree to anything that puts her close to his titillating torso. 'And how long will it take?'
'We've no idea, that's why we want to schedule it for when the University is down.'
'Look I'm a bit busy right now,' it isn't good tactics to show you're too keen, 'but if you can give me the details in the next day or so I'll certainly consider it.'
'Fair enough. How about over dinner? Say tomorrow night.'
'Why not?'