A Devil's Bargain

A Devil's Bargain

I didn't know it at the time, but I made a devil's bargain when I, Connor Colin Cooper (yeah my parents were jokers or loved rhyming, I don't know which), aka Triple C, was about to start my junior year of college.

My family had suffered some reverses during my sophomore year. This included my father losing his job, my mother having a health emergency, my sister running away for three months and getting knocked up by some lowlife, and me losing my fencing scholarship when the University I attended gave up men's fencing as a sport in order to balance out scholarships to comply with Title IX. I couldn't afford the tuition at the private college I attended and might have had to give up college altogether to help my family financially.

I was lamenting my situation to my advisor -- who also was a psychology assistant professor -- Dr. Baines (why an engineering student had a psychology instructor as an advisor I never quite figured out).

"As I understand it you're deeply involved in politics and government in addition to your coursework, aren't you Connor?" he inquired, knowing that I was the recent past president of the Young Cobras on campus. (To avoid preconceptions about the characters I am using names aside from the names of the most common political parties in the United States, namely the Democratic, Green, Libertarian, and Republican Parties.)

"Yes, I've organized a number of Cobra rallies and written opinion pieces on governmental institutions in the school newspaper," I retorted.

Baines got a contemplative look on his face and asked "Connor; are you interested in exploring a solution whereby you might be required to give up something in the future in order to completely solve your present situation?"

"Hell...uh...Heck Yeah, Dr. Baines," I enthusiastically replied.

"I can put you into contact with a psychology program run by a private endowment that may provide a solution for you. My only caution is that you take care to understand the situation completely before you sign on because you are sacrificing something in your future for the present -- somewhat of a devil's bargain," he continued.

"I'll listen carefully," I contemplatively responded.

Dr. Baines opened up his desk drawer and pulled out a business card -- not a paper one, but a titanium one (at least that's what the material appeared to be) -- containing the name "Specialty Psychological Research LLC" ("SPR") on it with just a phone number and email address, no physical address. "Contact this organization and ask for the democracy project coordinator, and tell them that I recommended you."

I thanked him profusely, and pulled out my BlackBerry (which I would have to give up within a month because I could no longer afford it) as soon as I got outside and called the number on the card. Within three minutes I had an appointment set up for the next day in a non-descript office adjacent a local shopping center.

*************

The office I was interviewed in was obviously just a daily or weekly rental; there were no photos, paintings, or decorations of any type, only a desk with a roller chair behind it, a padded chair next to the desk, and a folding chair facing the desk. When I entered the room a bespectacled bookish little man behind the desk stood up and greeted me in a squeaky voice and extended his hand. The woman sitting in the padded chair didn't stand or extend her hand.

After I experienced the bookish little man's fish handshake he squeaked "I'm senior researcher John Smith from SPR and this," he continued, motioning to the seated woman, "is the coordinator of the democracy project at SPR Miss Mary Jones."

Obviously the names were made up.

Just as obviously, "Mary" was a fox to the tenth power. She looked to be in her late forties, primarily because of some gray streaks in her brown hair and a few lines on her face, but she had long sculptured legs extending from her short skirt, a small waist, big boobs, and a classically beautiful face. It was hard not to try and look up her skirt when she crossed and uncrossed her tanned muscular legs.

Both John and Mary peppered me with questions for about 90 minutes, without so much as a ten second pause. They questioned me about every aspect of my life -- including about my fencing skills (I was sabre conference champion last year), how regularly I exercised (every day), how much I could bench press and squat (280 and 400 respectively), what experience I had in wilderness activities (lots), my engineering specialty (mechanical), and my plans for the future (indeterminate) -- but in most detail examined me about my political activities with the Cobra Party.

After about 90 minutes Mary -- who had asserted herself more and more during the questioning -- said "Please stand outside for a few minutes Connor while John and I converse;" which I did. After about five minutes of unsuccessfully attempting to eavesdrop I was called back into the room by Mary opening the door. I got to see for the first time how tall she was; with her four inch heels on she was just shy of my six foot three inch height, and her body looked even more smoking hot when she was standing. I salivated watching her bubble butt bounce as she returned to her seat.

John handed me a contract. "Look this over and return here tomorrow at 11 .a. m. At that time you either need to sign it in front of a notary or decline; the terms aren't negotiable."

I nodded, saw Mary lick her lips which caused me to almost bang into the wall as I exited the room, and got out of there, noticing for the first time that I had nervously pitted out the underarms of my shirt and tented my pants.

************

I took Dr. Baines' advice and looked the small print contract over carefully -- although about page 9 I became bored and since the last five paragraphs seemed to be boilerplate only skimmed them. The main provisions of the contract were relatively simple:

-I would get a payment of $175,000, which was the estimated cost of the rest of my college tuition, room and board, and living expenses, including a detailed calculation indicating how they came up with that figure. I investigated this part most carefully and determined that it was more than generous and would mean that I didn't have to work a part time job while finishing my last two years of schooling but could still contribute to my family's finances.

-At any time within the next 19 years (I was twenty at the time, so until just before my 40th birthday) I could be required to participate in a psychological experiment that would require my complete attention, 24/7, for up to six weeks in a location to be selected solely by SPR. I would be given ninety days advance notice so as to get my affairs in order, however I could not decline. If I did decline I would have to pay back the $175,000 at 8% interest, compounded quarterly. I did a quick calculation -- which I knew to be far from accurate -- and determined that if I was asked to participate just before the 19 years were up the amount of money that I would owe would be at least $4 million. There was also a provision for immediate execution on all of my assets at the time, including those held jointly with another person, and garnishment of my wages for the future. In other words, unless I somehow became a multi-millionaire within 19 years I would have to participate.

-There was also one seemingly throw-away provision about an unspecified non-monetary signing bonus.

The contract already bore the signature -- dated yesterday -- of the president of SPR, Dr. Miles Tipton III, properly notarized.

I slept on the contract provisions -- actually I didn't really sleep much at all -- that night, and decided by the next morning that I would sign.

I arrived at the SPR temporary office promptly at 11 a. m. Mary was there with a woman who introduced herself as Susan Hale, the woman who had notarized Dr. Tipton's signature the day before. After I signed while Susan notarized the document and made a copy for my records Mary engaged me in small talk -- something that I didn't know, based upon yesterday's serious grilling -- that she was capable of. After I got my copy of the contract and confirmation that $175,000 had been wired to my bank account Mary actually interlocked her right arm with my left and said "Let's get you your signing bonus."

Mary and I chatted -- her perfume smelled so good and her right hip occasionally bumping into my left one was so intoxicating -- that I barely noticed where we were going until suddenly we appeared on the top floor of the Four Seasons hotel next to the shopping center. As she opened the door to Room 2302 I instinctively followed her into the room, which was a luxury suite. I was looking around at how nice the digs were and was unaware of what Mary was doing until suddenly I looked her way and saw that except for her high heels, a necklace, and a bracelet, she was naked.

In a raspy voice Mary said "I noticed how you were ogling me yesterday and today, and I love young cock; so I hope that we will both enjoy sex as your signing bonus."

As a twenty year old I had had a number of sexual encounters, all with women approximately my age, so I wasn't a virgin -- but I wasn't all that experienced either. One thing was clear, however; by far Mary had the best body I had ever seen live in my life -- and maybe, with the exception of a few movie or porn stars, that I had seen on a screen or in print too.

My dick inflated so quickly that it hurt.

It wasn't long -- and I don't remember exactly how we ended up that way -- before we were naked on the king sized bed in the suite with me eating and fingering Mary's hairless pussy and clitoris. After she had a rip-roaring orgasm she pulled me completely onto the bed with strength that I could not have predicted for a 40-something woman (although the muscle definition in her arms, legs, and torso was truly amazing), and after she sucked my cock for a few seconds while she manipulated my testicles she mounted me, burying my sword in her scabbard in one quick, delicious, maneuver.

Never having experienced such sexual aggression before, let alone by a goddess, I knew that I wouldn't last long as she rode me as hard as a rented mule. Despite what I knew would be premature ejaculation I couldn't help myself as I latched onto her prodigious flopping mammaries while she bounced up and down on me. My ejaculation was an order of magnitude more intense than any before in my young life.

Mary smiled wickedly at my premature ejaculation but continued to bounce. Somehow -- a first for me, and not to be repeated for years -- I remained hard and after another few minutes of bouncing alone Mary started pulsating her powerful pc muscles. Within just a few minutes after that heavenly gesticulation started I was shooting another load of seminal fluid into her anxious cunt. This time she had an orgasm that rivalled mine as she collapsed onto my torso.

The next few hours were spent with me manipulating and abusing her abundant breasts and delightful pussy and buttocks while she enthusiastically handled my cock and balls. We fucked doggy, and with her sitting on my lap facing away from me, both times with me mauling her tits. About five o'clock she moaned "I have a business meeting at 6:30, so let's shower and then you can help me dress before you leave."

The shower was the most pleasurable of my life as our hands roamed over every square inch of each other's bodies. I would have loved a shower fuck but couldn't get it up again.

After we dried off I couldn't believe how erotic it was getting Mary dressed for her meeting, including putting on her panties, stockings, bra, and little black dress. I left her room at six o'clock with a passionate kiss and the widest smile ever.

There was never any explanation from Mary as to why I got the non-monetary bonus that I did; nor did I ever see or hear from her again. I also didn't know her real name and there was no publicly available information about SPR so I couldn't have looked her up if I had wanted to. However, the memory of that afternoon sustained me through many bad times in the ensuing years, and gave me something to compare all future sexual encounters to.

************

By the time that I graduated -- on time -- with a mechanical engineering degree, helped by the financial assistance I was able to provide with the money from SPR, my mother recovered, my sister gave her out-of-wedlock child up for adoption and with counseling got her act together, and my father got another job with almost the same monetary compensation as the one he lost and with a better health plan. When all those things worked out I remember being grateful for SPR's assistance, but by the time that I met and married my wife two years after graduation I rarely thought about SPR. My attitude was "what will be, will be." The only contact I had with SPR was a Happy New Year email message from it January 1st of each year, even when my email address changed two different times.

One thing that I was careful to do before I got married was to advise my fiancée Jennifer of my contract with SPR. She was concerned about it for a few days, but shrugged it off, and it didn't stop her from marrying me.

My life was pretty darn great for the first twelve years after Jennifer and I got married. We both advanced in our careers, we both helped in organizing fund raisers and demonstrations for Cobra political candidates, we had two kids, first Bethany and then Trent, we exercised together almost daily and we both maintained our pre-marriage weights and muscle tone, and we had an active sex life. While I never had a sexual experience with Jennifer that compared physically with my one-afternoon-stand with "Mary," our sex life was all of active, varied, physically rewarding, and loving.

It was about six months before a presidential election when I got the ninety day notification from SPR. I was thirty six years old at the time, and my financial situation was good. With an understanding boss I was able to get a six week sabbatical by working hard and finishing up an important project before I was to be whisked off by SPR.

While my employer understood, Jennifer did not. She went into a funk before I left even though both sets of parents -- who were clued in on the contract since before we married -- were willing to help with the kids. Bob, an attorney friend of ours, didn't help the situation by telling Jennifer that he could defeat the contract. Jennifer finally seemed to at least temporarily snap out of her funk after I paid a big name law firm to analyze the contract and it advised that I couldn't get out of it without paying roughly 3.4 million dollars in penalties. Even though our family was doing well financially, of course there is no way that we could afford that, or the subsequent disruption in our lives.

I had a small going away party with family and friends on a Saturday, and the next day I was picked up by an SPR limo. Jennifer was back in her funk, had been surly at the party, and barely kissed me goodbye, although Bethany and Trent did with tears in their eyes.

When picked up by SPR's limo I had only a duffle bag with me containing the items that SPR advised me to bring. I cheated on what I brought, however; instead of a couple of clothing items (the duffle could weigh no more than ten pounds) I brought some fish hooks and lines, a high-efficiency plastic water filtration bottle, some general purpose antibiotics, pain killers, and antivirals, a light weight foldable sun hat, and a survival knife.

A private plane took off from a nearby airport with me as the only actual passenger but with two SPR representatives in addition to the pilots. We flew to San Diego, and during the flight they briefed me -- somewhat -- on what was to come. I would have to survive for an indeterminate time on an island, location not specified, in a temperate climate. There would be one unidentified person with me.

When we got to San Diego we boarded another, larger, private plane with different fore and aft compartments. I was blindfolded for the first hour in the aft compartment, and all of the window shades were kept down after my blindfold was removed. I was blindfolded again just before we landed.

After landing I was lead to a helicopter that was idling on the ground, making so much noise that I couldn't tell who was around me. I was helped onto the helicopter and headphones were placed over my ears. I could tell that other people were on board -- probably six others, but I couldn't tell for sure, nor did I know what size or sex they were or whether one of them was to accompany me on the island, or if they were all employees of SPR.

After about a 90 minute helicopter ride we landed. It was the middle of the night -- actually I was told that it was 3 a. m. in the time zone that we were in.

The helicopter was silent and being refueled while I -- still blindfolded -- was being briefed on the situation seventy two steps (I counted them) away from the helicopter. I was told that much more extensive than basic survival equipment was on a plateau adjacent the beach where we landed and that I was expected to survive until the "experiment" was called off.

"How long might that be," I asked.

"Between four and six weeks," an SPR employee replied.

The final instruction was "As soon as you no longer hear the helicopter take off your blindfold."

I removed the blindfold once I was sure that the helicopter had left the beach, and looked around. I saw another human form about 100 meters away. I approached it. I could tell from fifty meters away that it was a female who had just removed her blindfold, but I didn't recognize her until I got within ten meters. Her name was Kim Foley. I had never met her but I recognized her because she was an outspoken operative with the Scorpion Political Party and her husband was an official in the present administration.

I introduced myself to her trying to be as friendly as possible. "I recognize your name," she snapped barely making contact with my outstretched hand. "You helped organize the last big event for the Cobra Party, didn't you?"

"Guilty as charged," I replied, trying to keep things light. "You look somewhat familiar; are you Kim Foley."

"Yeah," was her terse reply, not trying to keep things light.

"How did you come to be here?" I asked.

"Probably the same way that you did; I signed a devil's bargain contract after my freshmen year in college when my family had numerous financial reversals. It was great to get the $190,000 at the time; it's not so great now, right in the middle of a presidential campaign," she replied in a monotone.

"I think that we should try and find some sleeping bags in the stockpile of equipment in the plateau just above the beach," I continued, pointing in the general direction of where I had been told the equipment was located. Kim nodded her head; I turned on the high-tech flashlight from my duffle bag -- one of the items I was told to bring with me. She reached into a similar duffle bag and pulled out a much less high-tech flashlight and followed after me.

We exchanged few words as we found two sleeping bags, a double air mattress, and a pump. As I pumped up the air mattress Kim whined "That's just for me, right?"

"Uh...actually, no," I replied, irritated not only by her comment but by the tone of her voice. "This is for both of our sleeping bags."

"I'm not sharing an air mattress with you," she snapped.

"Suit yourself," I replied. Seconds after that I finished pumping up the air mattress, carried it and a sleeping bag to a level spot about twenty meters away, laid the mattress down with the sleeping bag on one side of it, and crawled in. Kim did not follow, but in a huff put down her bag on the opposite side of the equipment pile. I shrugged and was so tired that I immediately fell asleep. I was surprised when I woke up the next morning that her sleeping bag was next to mine on the air mattress; apparently the hard ground had changed her outlook.