How I Became Emperor Ch 10 Summer

The Summer

After the election, things almost went back to normal for a while. Finals were around the corner, and I was focussed on those. Wanting to get out of my usurped house for a while, Cindy helpfully allowed me into her bed again, which wasn't a great help with my studies. Also, as Keisha lived there too, I quickly figured out that any studying I really wanted to do would have to happen on campus. But there I was followed by my new popularity, and while the novelty thankfully began to wear off, I would still find myself haunted by other students whom my campaign had inspired.

So I took to loitering in lecture halls after the classes had ended and using the peace there to make sure I was up to scratch on my geo-political realities of impoverished nations, the dehumanising overtones of Rousseau's social contract and the influence of modern communications technology on radicalisation of political speech. It was wildly interesting stuff, and more than once Cindy brought me out of a reverie by unceremoniously plonking her fun-bags on my papers. I usually didn't even notice her approach.One memorable time it turned out to have been nearing midnight, and she'd been watching me study for a while trying to think up the most fun way of bringing me back to reality. I have to say, I liked her method.

I also turned up promptly at Professor Lex's home on the Saturday. She welcomed me in, and led me to a modest kitchen where a functional wooden dining table also doubled as a cutting board and study-space. My Professor kindly offered me a tea, which I accepted, and I enjoyed the view of my teacher stretching to a high cabinet to obtain the tea bags. Her tight sweater and dress pants stretched pleasingly over her curves.

We talked animatedly afterwards, re-hashing our debates from throughout the year on the development of a social consciousness through the ever expanding sense of civil rights and national belonging offered through the concepts of citizenship, burghers, a middle class and personalized wealth. It was in essence a review of her class that semester in broad strokes, and I was very pleased when my Professor said "If you provide these answers in a cogent essay on your exam you'll do well." as she said goodbye at the door.

And so it went indeed. The exams came, and the exams went. There wasn't a particularly large amount I can remember (or choose to remember) about that time. I can tell you that I did above average on the tests, spent a goodly amount fretting about the results until they were in my hands, and spent the rest of my time loitering around pubs, bars and my friends when they were willing.

And then it was the summer holidays. All my friends were heading home, including Cindy who was heading to her parents. Abby, Matt, Keisha, Erica, Irina and Alex all had similar plans. I don't hesitate to claim I felt a little alone for two weeks.

I did go visit my sister for a week, so I don't really have cause to complain, but I did carefully avoid my mother and father, and very definitely did not choose to go home, even though my folks had decided on some exotic trip to South America and so wouldn't have been there to bother me in the first place.

Otherwise I occupied myself with three things. Studying up on my new job, in which I was assisted by the outgoing president who seemed to have had a very bad experience during his start, and didn't wish to leave the same legacy to me.

Playing various computer and console games in an ongoing effort to rot my brain sufficiently to be called a millennial.

And finally studying with Professor Lex, who apart from her own holiday (coupled with a conference on the Azores for two weeks) insisted that I continue my studies through the holidays.

I didn't put up too much of a fight. With my usual sexual releases of my girlfriend and my sex-toy both currently unavailable, I settled for the weekly masturbatory material that my Professor amply provided. With her tight sweaters -- even in the height of summer -- and snug dress pants, I always left the Professor's house with an urgent need for some lube and tissues.

Ironically the paradigm shift in my relationship with my Professor happened the same weekend that Cindy returned - a week before the next semester was set to start. I met her at the train station, with a kiss so deep I think we made some of the station attendants uncomfortable. I also couldn't keep my hands off her as we walked to my flat, and after entering my house it took less than a minute before the lovely girl lay spread-eagled before me begging me to "fuck [her] into oblivion". Obviously I did so. She fell asleep of exhaustion with my rod buried to the root inside her snatch, and I woke up still wrapped in her folds.

The next day and a half continued in a blissful state of fucking and love-making between the sheets, neither of us leaving my increasingly musky room for more than daily ablutions and the necessity of hydrating and nutritional consumption.

Then it was time for me to attend my Saturday classes with my Professor. She'd been gone for two weeks as well (on the Azores as I mentioned before), and she'd given me homework, which of course I'd completed with aplomb.

So I turned up at her home ready to present it proudly. She invited me in, as usual, offered me tea, and brought me through to her kitchen. She was wearing a tight lime-green sweater which seemed to augment her breasts to titanic volume. She reached up, as she did with every visit, to a high shelf to retrieve the tea, and her light grey dress pants stretched pleasingly across her ass.

I lecherously watched it all, taking precautions to return my view to my papers in a neutral expression before she turned around again.

"So, did you complete your homework?" She asked, handing me a cup of tea.

"Yes, ma'am," I responded. "The right to self determination in historical perspective was actually surprisingly easy." I teased slightly.

Professor Lex smirked at me. "You're saying I just attended a two-week conference and got a delightful tan for nothing?"

"I don't know about the tan," I replied, taking another look at her hands and face, and noticing a slightly darker shade indeed. "But yes, self determination I think is quite straight forward, historically speaking."

"Come through to the living room." My Professor declared, not waiting on my response. This was new, previously we had conducted my remedial instructions in her kitchen. I followed into a snug room, a couch and two armchairs centered around a glass/wood-frame low coffee table, and flanked on one side by a nice tv and stereo setup, and on the other by bookshelves filled with an eclectic selection of fiction, non-fiction, biographies and magazines.

Prof. Lex sat in an armchair, and I took the couch, laying out my notes on the coffee table, along with my tea. This was a new setting, less austere, more welcoming and warm, making it easier to relax.

That decompression happened quickly, and soon the two of us were busy interrupting each other as we discussed the right of self-determination. The crux of the disputes was on whether external recognition was necessary. I argued that any group of people with sufficient will and force of arms could declare independence and thus gain self determination at need. Prof. Lex countered with the enslavement and wars of conquest that many countries historically used to impose their will against others, thereby naturally infringing on their rights to self-determination. I countered with the argument that while I acknowledged the disregard of the right that such wars of conquest inherently entailed, similarly the right required the ability of the community to defend its members from external threats. Any society that was incapable of defending itself did not - historically speaking - have the right to self-determination. Modern sensibilities ignored, historical self determination was a matter of might makes right. My Professor smiled at this and rebutted that the modern viewpoint was the salient one, after all, the concept hadn't really existed until the tail end of colonization. I disputed this as well, arguing that any number of attempted or successful slave or client state revolts most assuredly were comparable to modern examples of the invocation of self-determination.

The discussion continued from there, looking at specific examples and dissecting hypotheticals that we each wielded as fencing foils, thrusting, parrying and exchanging blows, occasionally one or the other garnering a touch, but never a decisive blow.

We came towards the end of the session, and I could see Professor Lex glance at the clock with increasing regularity. With 30 minutes still to go, she abruptly interrupted the conversation. "More tea?" She asked standing, and bending over to pick up the empty kettle. It gave me a look at her generous cleavage on the V of her tight sweater.

"Yes please." I politely returned.

"Give me some company while the kettle boils." Prof. Lex either stated or asked (I couldn't tell exactly) as she walked to the kitchen. I wasn't about to complain either way: any chance to ogle her stretch for the tea was good with me.

"I think," my teacher said as she finished preparing the water to boil and turning to me, "that we could make these sessions more fun." She turned and folded her arms under her breasts, framing them wonderfully.

"I don't know," I demurred, enraptured by her breasts and trying not to be obvious about it. "I find our discussions very engaging. I probably have learned and broadened my knowledge more under your tutelage than all my other classes combined."

The Professor smiled at me in thanks. "Oh, it's not your enthusiasm I'm questioning. This arrangement still just feels too formal. We need to loosen up. Political philosophy isn't clerical. It shouldn't be like the sciences, history, geography, physics or even psychology, though we do heavily draw on all those disciplines for our work. Political philosophy is the science of social organization, of people coming together for a greater good despite our differences. It's about passionate beliefs and deeply held emotions."

"Good description," I allowed, "mind if I use it in a speech someday?"

The Professor shot me a piercing look, unsure if I meant the comment condescendingly (I promise I didn't), but continued anyway, "Of course not. What I'm saying is that right now you and me, we are both thinking about these sessions the same as if we were in the lecture hall or seminar room. Our roles are distinctly defined: Teacher." She placed a hand on her breast. "Student." She pointed at me. "We're discussing the topics as academics, not as people affected by it."

Professor Lex turned away again to pour the hot water into the teapot. "I think we need to loosen up. Begin approaching this as engaged members of society, not analysts of it. Especially now that you're in your first position of some power."

She led the way back to the living room, and when I sat down she surprised me by sitting beside me on the couch instead of across.

"So, you're saying we need to start discussing in pubs, like every other joe-schmo in society?" I asked confused.

"No!" She responded emphatically. "Heavens forbid! We have so much more relevant knowledge and intellectual capacity - on this subject at least - than your local pub regular. But what we are missing is his passionate involvement, his connection to the people around him, whom he interacts with, who inform his understanding of societal structures and societal purpose - unformed and unstructured as they might be."

I nodded, thinking I was beginning to understand. "This is connected with me now having to practice what I preach, but from the other side. You're essentially asking me to begin preaching what I practice."

Prof. Lex smiled warmly at me. "An oversimplification and slight perversion of what I meant, but yeah, in essence you are correct. I would have formulated it as: you should preach and practice at the same time, or that we should preach as we practice."

"Alright," I pushed away my notes and papers to show I was taking her message to heart, and turned to have her fully. "How do we do this?"

"Let's play it like a game." My Professor said, obviously having had the idea already in place. "We'll discuss, as we have been, but without notes or preparation on the topic. We'll agree on a broad subject in advance, like self-determination, but not limit ourselves to that topic as we discuss.

"Since we both will always be able to refute the other's claims, we're too good at this not to, we'll arrange it so that for every valid argument we make, we can make a request of the other. A valid argument is one that we cannot show to be factually wrong, directly counter to prevailing evidence, or illogical on its own terms. If either of us makes such a fallacious argument the other gets a free request."

I mulled this over. "I think I'm going to need an example." I requested, not sure of the exact process.

"Ok," Professor Lex agreed. "For example, you could start by making the argument that a self-determining group requires a common bond large enough to encompass some minimum threshold. Five friends can't just get together and declare their independence. You can then make one request of me, for example that I pour the tea."

My Professor leaned forwards and slightly across me, letting her breasts brush against my arm through the sweater. She gave no sign of having noticed, but I certainly did.

Having poured, she straightened again, and continued. "I would counter that as long as the five friends encompass a single geographic indivisible area, and a cohesive common ground, be it ethnic, cultural, religious or political, or even something else, they have a right to self determination, especially if they don't infringe on others. And then request you give me a foot rub."

Professor Lex's foot was in my lap before I could parse her last words. I began to massage her foot, taking care to enjoy this chance to actually touch the woman who'd so kindly given me long nights of enjoyment before meeting Cindy - and after meeting Cindy.

"So." I continued thinking I'd gotten the hang of it. "I could then say that such a supposed micro-nation doesn't constitute self-determinacy in a governmental sense - only in a personal freedom sense - because it doesn't otherwise take on any of the normal functions a government would perform. It doesn't provide a defensive structure, travel documents, currency, etc." I hesitated a moment, then demanded, "I'd like some milk with my tea."

My Professor smiled at me, and leaned past me again to reach the milk and pour a dollop in my cup.

"I think you're getting the idea." She said with a wink. "But you're still wrong about the self-determining nation. Housing communities have existed forever which pay into a communal purse - taxation - with highly defined and even codified rules - laws - as well as ways to decide them communally - a legislative body. They're even self-enforcing, adjudicating and punishing, administering like any other government. And there are clear boundaries of defense.

"A little higher please," my Professor motioned for my foot massage to include her ankles and legs. "I'm afraid I might have overdone it on my morning run today."

"I'll admit that there are modern perversions and exceptions to the general rule of self-determination, most probably brought about by a similar historical misunderstanding as you currently defend," I winked at my Professor while kneading her legs to show her I had no intention of causing an insult with my words. "Historically speaking, as we originally were, I will admit that self-governing and determining communities were smaller, but for the main, since the era of Roman conquest, perhaps earlier, it became not the village that defended and governed, but the tribe at the very least. By definition you couldn't know everyone else who was part of your self-determining community. The right to self-determination was held in the collective conscience with strangers - not in the village."

I wondered for a moment on what I could request. Professor Lex waited patiently - though with a grin that told me she already knew what she would want to reply. I continued to absently massage her leg, firmly pressing her muscles to de-clench through the fabric of her dress-pants.

What I really wanted to do, of course, was to pull the pants off - but my sense of propriety, and my continued insecurity about where this was going held me back. Still, I was hoping to satisfy at least some of my lascivious nature, and figure out some innocuous request that would still grant me some measure of physical gratification. I considered asking for a massage in return - but it seemed too obvious and stilted to me after she'd already requested it.

In the end I settled on a simple, but easy request. "I'd like to see you run, Professor. It'll give me a better idea of where I need to focus during the massage. Not that I'm in any way an expert in physical therapy!" I hastened to add.

The Professor's grin widened knowingly - and I worried she might have seen through the flimsy ruse - but she stood up gracefully, took me by the hand and led me into a small home-gym. I say 'gym', really it was just a treadmill and a mat with a set of weights, and barely enough room for that. I took a seat on the mat, and Professor Lex started up the treadmill at a slow jog. I made a show of trying to watch her gait - when really I was looking a little higher at her tightly wrapped breasts bouncing under her V-neck sweater. They jiggled and jostled nicely - as did her ass, if not quite as much as the breastage, but still providing a most pleasing view nearer eye-level in the dress pants. I was enjoying myself nicely - and probably not as subtly as I could have hoped.

As she jogged along gently on the treadmill, Professor Lex began her counter-assault on my argumentation. "You've acknowledged that there is some level of devolution of rights to subsidiary parties, from the empire to the regions, from the regions to the cities or villages and so forth. So it seems the question is to what level is self-determination devolved to - and at what point can a devolved government countermand a higher-level government on the basis of a right to self-determination?

"The same argument exists that if a body of people make up a state from which is formed a government, then the people have the right to rebel against their government if it does not serve them or acts against their interests."

Panting only lightly - but the rise and fall of her chest still giving me plenty of mental images to preserve for later - Professor Lex turned off the treadmill, and stepped off.

"Damn." She chided herself lightly as she surveyed her clothes, "I really should have changed into something more appropriate first. Come."

She grabbed my hand and led me into a bedroom, where she then vanished without me behind a screen where I could just make out the hulking form of a closet.

"I'll make my request in a minute, we'll just keep my account open for now. Continue with your counter-argument, I'm listening."

I sat on a corner of the bed, and tried to formulate my thoughts. "I don't like the argument that self-determination is devolved." I mused. "I understand the argument that power is always granted upwards, but I think sometimes it's not given as freely as we think. Brainwashing, propaganda, education, force of arms and opportunity are all carefully managed to make sure that the power rests where it does. We don't just tacitly acquiesce to a governing body by using it's services as people have argued since Locke's Treatises on Government. The pen is placed in our hands and on the paper before we are even born, let alone know enough to make our own decisions. So the right to self-determination, as much as it is devolved, is only ever peacefully exercised with the permission of whoever holds power at the time for whatever reasons they prefer.