Description:
A look at one of Carl's earliest brushes with CFMN, before meeting the staff of the Jade Cafe, showing how he came to discover his obedient side.
One of those odd and yet traditional subjects that Carl had difficulty with was Latin. Forced to take it as an upperclassman, it was a nail-biter for him. He stumbled repeatedly with the more advanced aspects such as the perfect passive participle, or, in fact, almost anything which was not a straightforward subject, verb, or object. He needed help, and by pure serendipity he ran across an ad in the local rag which advertised exactly what he needed: Latin Tutor.
As luck would have it, it was placed by a college senior named Bridget, an uncannily prototypical blond bombshell with wide-spaced mildly malevolent grey eyes, flagrant cheekbones, and a lithe and curvy frame which she appeared to feel it was necessary to show off in skin-tight leotards. She was beyond smart, and it turned out that she had the exact same Latin primer that Carl was required to use. Once they started meeting in her apartment, it quickly became clear that she faced no hurdle whatsoever in judging what kind of tutoring Carl needed. They made goals and lesson plans based on the book, and began meeting weekly.
For the first several sessions, it was all business. They sat opposite of each other at the small dining room table in Bridget's second floor apartment, working out who they both were. Bridget would assess his educational needs quickly, judging him with her superior grey wolf-like eyes, and Carl would simply take her advice on what to read and translate. It was not long, however, before they relaxed in each other's presence, and opened up a little. Bridget discerned accurately that underneath everything, Carl was immature, his personality still forming. She believed that he was a virgin, and she could readily see how often just her mere presence sometimes seemed to pervade his thinking, clog up his attention and throw hurdles into the intellectual exercise of learning Latin. This tickled her, and tended to generate a series of carnal thoughts about how malleable boys are.
To go over difficult sections, Bridget eventually decided she sometimes would sit next to Carl and work out the written language piece by piece, showing by placing her fingers on the pages of the book how declension or case stretched like infiltrating insects across whole sentences. She was always wearing body-revealing tights, and when she was upright, standing or walking about, they announced the exact dimensions of her features, following her demur legs up to and even into the mysterious crown of her pubic area, or smoothly mold her body from behind, stretching with perfection over her ass and arching over the lower vertebra of her spine and the sockets of her hips toward the flesh of her midriff.
Carl was smitten, and so callow that he was incapable of disguise. Instead, it was as though every time they were together his feelings unaccountably accumulated until eventually he was visibly vibrating with lust. For Bridget, who easily detected this, it became a bit of a game of cat and mouse. Safe to say, at times she purposefully acted evocatively. She would saunter about the room and more than once, with her back intentionally presented to him, bend over ever so suggestively and light the scented candles she kept on a small round table by the wall.
But the intentionality of her actions often went straight over Carl's head. He could not know how lively and creative Bridget's imagination actually was. He could only react to the immediacy of the sensory input she seemed willing to produce.
One session when they were seated close together and needed a break, Bridget said, "Quick break," and stood up with fluid and feminine stature to the right of Carl in her black tights and did not move away. She stood facing the table, while Carl remained seated beside her. She seemed to Carl to be too close to him. Unbelievably close. Close enough to smell, to imagine that he could see through the thin fabric. She stood still, looking down at her open book, and seemed to be inviting Carl's inspection.
And inspect he did, almost inadvertently, with childlike wonder. He was careless to the fact that he turned his head to look at her, that his eyes grew large and roved over the portion of the strange and beautiful female form that was only inches away. A sense of awe was writ plainly in his face as his eyes admired the round shape of her backside. Almost instantly he developed a rigid erection. He had a very large penis and he was powerless to stop or to hide is arousal. She looked down and took the measure his penis-tented crotch, and then looked into his eyes and when he returned her look she smiled. It was the kind of genuine smile that could have meant nothing, or might have said, take your time. I'm not going anywhere.
Carl returned her smile with a small gulp, which Bridget saw and registered and deemed a success. Then Bridget turned, swiveled her body very slightly so that no longer was she presenting just her hip to Carl, but now she was presenting everything from her hip to the flank of her round and sculpted buttock, and her ass seemed to be flexing. There was no conversation, but she continued to gaze upon him, and it seemed possible that maybe she hadn't turned like that purposefully, hadn't tensed her butt rather flamboyantly, but she continued to smile and clearly invited Carl to keep looking.
She stood beside him, letting the scene unfold however it would, and after something like 30 seconds during which she pondered how big his obviously large erection might actually be, she studied how Carl appreciated the concave side of her hip ascending into the convex allure of her gluteus. When he began demonstrating unequivocal agitation, seemed lost in thought and struggling to breath normally, she sat back down and with sweetness redirected them both back into the Latin text open on the table before them. Every time they looked at each other, however, both understood that something new and significant had transpired between them. Carl was incapable of defining it, but Bridget understood what it was, how it came to be, and what it would eventually turn into.
After this event, Carl was an emotional wreck for the intervening week, falling in love with Bridget, consumed by thoughts of her. He spent countless hours thinking about her beautiful face, inspired by her deep, riveting, grey eyes, and surprised himself with how deeply he dissected his emotions. He wondered that it was somewhat unlike him to be so thoughtful, to realize that he could be governed just by the look in some else's face. Even to himself, a new awareness seemed to take root in his mind.
He was not sure how to brand the emotions he was feeling for her, and utterly at a loss to describe to himself the nature of their new connection -- if indeed there was one. All he knew for certain was that she had exerted a sense of otherworldly fascination in him, and to a degree that was impossible to ignore. He desperately wanted to be in her presence again, to let her drive the interactions in whatever way she wanted.
At their next session, Bridget immediately put their chairs together and began the lesson with them sitting nearly shoulder to shoulder. Her expressions were open, inviting, agile. She bounced her vivacious smile at him, with animal acuity looking for a reaction, and with only this small amount of effort saw that she had already produced a very visible erection in his pants.
For a while then, she seemed to navigate the space between them sometimes as a Latin tutor and sometimes as the chancellor of something else entirely. She tried to engage with the lesson but over and over it became apparent that Carl was having keen difficulty.
And then, intentionally, her eyes burning and the edges of her lips turning beautifully up, she offered Carl the chance to stray, to enter another world. She stopped talking, turned to face him and gave Carl a prolonged questioning look, one that required Carl to reply. Silence fell momentarily in the small room. She waited for him to speak.
"I think about you all the time," he bleated out.
"Aww, you do, don't you?" Bridget said, leaning back a little in her chair.
She was suddenly so formidable, looking upon him sweetly, judgmentally. While sirens perhaps should have been going off in his head, instead there was love, awe, lust, deference. Mostly, clear and obvious lovestruck awe, and Bridget understood that it was so, and that it was as clear and obvious a portal as there had ever been so far in her life. She decided she would take a small step through it.
"You don't have experience of women, do you Carl?" she asked, gazing into his amazement-filled eyes.
He shook his head resignedly.
