This is the rest of the story I guess. There's not really sex in it, so if you've just been along for the ride so you can choke your chicken or butter your muffin or whatever you perverts like to do, you'll probably be bored...
Being a professor was not that highly paid, but I learned a lot about his operation as the bookkeeper. It turned out he'd been hypnotizing students for more than 15 years.
He had two former students who sent him 90 percent of their paychecks (one was a CPA - his first bookkeeper, and one was a goddamned professional hypnotist. Holy mindfuck.) They just lived in modest one-bedroom apartments and drove their beat-up cars and ate ramen and lived their lives and never put it together that they were perpetually single and mailed away most of their money every month.
And he had two former students who sent him whatever they could sneak away from their wealthy husbands. His nest egg (that bought the house we lived in) came from one of his first victims, who he actually sold to a wealthy and obviously unscrupulous man he'd met in his early days on the D/s scene. That guy was so damned grateful (and rich) he often sent random bonus checks in gratitude whenever he had a stock market bump.
All told, Wrack made more than $400,000 a year, most of it tax-free, all of it highly illegal. And there was the side perk of 15 women of various ages who would always, always be willing to fuck him whenever he asked or demanded it. I asked him one time why he still fucked Vanessa, who snuck away from her husband every three or four months for an afternoon with him. She usually brought her three year old, and one of us was charged with watching her kid while they fucked. He told me that he liked variety, and then he patted me on the head and said "but don't worry, you're my favorite." That condescending asshole.
There was no one particular part that was that much worse than the rest. I hated being used. I hated being powerless. I hated watching my friends be abused. I hated sordid sex with strangers. I hated Wrack's smug grin. I hated myself for all the moments I enjoyed, the endless pleasure, the thin line between pain and ecstasy, the warm salty taste of a woman's freshly fucked cunt. It turns out I was more than a little queer after all. But there was absolutely nothing I could do about any of it.
In the end, getting free was a miracle. Wrack moved off professors row after he left teaching, and into a large duplex in an upscale neighborhood near campus. He wanted us to continue with our education, and he pushed us hard to achieve academically. We were part of his perpetual meal ticket after all. To the general public he was our rarely seen eccentric landlord and we girls lived on the second floor while we attended college. We were all very careful.
My sister is four years younger than me, beautiful and sweet and smart and sassy. She began making noise about visiting to see if she wanted to attend the same college. Wrack had placed so many restrictions on what I could say to my family that after a year and a half of putting her off, I ran out of creative ideas.
It was the spring of my junior year, and she came for the weekend. We re-organized the house so it seemed like two apartments before she arrived, and we had a nice girls dinner when she got there on Friday. We took her to a party on campus (I mean, what else do high school kids wanna do when they visit!) and stood in the corner awkwardly while she befriended (and then did some serious grinding with) a gangly first-year, who kept looking over at us to make sure we weren't going to jump him.
We pried them apart around midnight, and brought her flushed and smiling face home. Saturday we took a campus tour and answered her thousands of questions. It was actually her fourth college visit, so she had some savvy opinions about the U's pluses and drawbacks. Saturday night was the challenge. Wrack had organized a high dollar sex party for that evening, long before my sister firmed up her dates. And several men had requested me specifically, and he had ordered a special free-standing bondage contraption that would suspend me in mid-air with every orifice available, but with incredible flexibility of rotation. Like a cross between a pillory and a sex swing, attached to a hammock stand. We'd laboriously cleared out the dining room downstairs to make space. So I had to attend.
Cassie and Kate just said they had plans and headed out (and then right back into the first floor), but I was stuck. I didn't want her tracking down that awkward kid from last night for an unsupervised hookup, but I couldn't very well tell her that I needed to go to a sex party where I was the main paid attraction.
