Cat Lady on a Hot Tin Roof

As always against my better judgment, I have written another story for Literotica. As usual it involves what could be called sex slavery, pregnancy and risky games. This one is very much on the consensual side of the reluctant to nonconsensual continuum with the only coercion being economic and psychological.

This story roughly takes place in the dystopia of Wild West, but occurs a further twenty years into the future and does not involve any of the characters of Wild West.

As always, no sexual acts involving animals or persons under the age of 18 is involved.

Apologies to Kate Chopin, William Faulkner, Carson McCullers, Margaret Mitchell, and Tennessee Williams for using their works as a framework and as props while generally misinterpreting their meanings. Most of all, apologies to Henrik Ibsen whose play I mangled. May the ghosts of these great writers not come to haunt not-so-great writer me.

Cat Lady on a Hot Tin Doll's House

Chapter 1

"Know thyself" is a philosophical maxim which was inscribed upon the Temple of Apollo in the ancient Greek precinct of Delphi. Many people have a hard time doing this. One should be very hesitant to make bold statements about "what I would do" in a given situation. You do not really know what you would do until you face the situation.

English Professor, Emily Fuchs, age 29, taught in 2065 at a liberal arts school, North Liberal Arts College (NLAC), near Lake Erie. Because the school is small, Professor Fuchs taught all of the American literature classes at the school.

To graduate, each NLAC student must take three units of English; one in world literature, that was taught by Professor Constance Coolidge, a class by Emily Fuchs on American literature, and a British literature course by Professor Thomas Jones. In her scholarship and publications, Professor Fuchs specialized in 20th Century American literature, particularly the Southern Gothic writers.

Emily was not yet tenured and was very concerned about her future. Other than her PhD, and her cat, Bessie, she did not have much she could count on.

Emily Fuchs was a wild child for a few years in high school and college but came to focus on her studies and rejected several marriage proposals. She loved school, passed through her doctorate with flying colors with a thesis comparing Carson McCullers and Nelson Algren and landed a job although the demand for literature professors was not large. After several years of teaching, she still loved Faulkner, McCullers, Eudora Welty, and, secretly, Anne Rice.

While a professor at North Liberal Arts College, despite natural blonde hair, and 94-63-92 cm figure, Emily had no steady relationship. Prof. Fuchs could not safely have a sexual relationship with any of her colleagues or students at NLAC. She could have a hot weekend three nights a year while supposedly home to visit her parents who live in Indiana. Those three nights, she saw a mechanic into recreational drugs she knew in her hometown who worked fixing windmills. Neither she nor the mechanic had any intention of taking their relationship beyond high school memories, toking, and casual sex.

Three nights of passion a year was not as much as Emily would have liked, but one cannot have everything one wants in life, Prof. Fuchs thought.

Professor Fuchs heard that North Liberal Arts College was in financial trouble. How many English teachers did a small liberal arts school need?

A woman of many words, Professor Fuchs wrote a secret blog kept in the cloud under the name "Temple Drake," which, as will be seen, was a fateful name for her to choose as a pen name. She was not very careful to disguise that she was behind the blog. She thought that was alright because she never told anyone about the blog, she had no followers, and it was up in the cloud with only her having password access. Maybe some time I will turn all these wild fantasies into a novel, Emily thought.

In her blog she wrote about a variety of things including about her occasional desire to stop thinking so much and writing so much and just be the submissive recipient of male lust. She thought about how after Temple Drake was brought to a Memphis brothel, she has a period of just accepting her situation, having sex with Red and seeming to enjoy it. Is that bad or the right approach to take under the awful circumstances?

Fanny Hill and Dora Flood of Cannery Row seemed to enjoy being prostitutes. The "happy hooker" idea appealed to Emily and appeared frequently in her private blog.

Professor Thomas Jones, a full professor, age 40, taught the British literature course and specialized in English literature of the 18th and 19th Century. Professor Jones probably would not have been tolerated at the school 20 years previously because he was known for making off color jokes and being sexist but, with the national reconciliation of 2055, even liberal arts schools in the north felt it is wise to have a few conservative professors in the school to show that they were open minded.

Further, when an effort was made to control Jones' rather obvious leering at some of his female colleagues and some of the attractive coeds, Jones filed suit claiming that he had a mental condition that caused him to be powerfully attracted to women and that the school had to make reasonable accommodations for his condition. Before the case went to trial, North Liberal Arts College agreed to let Jones act in a fashion that was common among men 75 years before and remained common in much of the world, as long as he did not touch anyone without their consent.

Professor Constance "Connie" Coolidge, age 33, taught world literature starting with Homer and ending with books written as recently as 2055. She made tenure only a year before. She was an excellent writer, an expert on African literature, and herself African-American.

No one doubted that Professor Coolidge was qualified but there were groundless rumors that certain services she provided to North Liberal Arts College's president may have helped her get a tenured position despite the tight job market and North Liberal Arts' financial difficulties. That she looked like a very sexy pop singer with lots of boob and booty did not hurt her career but the image she projected of both strength and raw sexual power kept anyone from messing with her unless they were prepared to ride the tiger.

Professor Fuchs met with her two English department colleagues at a coffee shop on a fine May morning in 2065. At "The Writer's Mug" off campus, Emily, Connie and Thomas frequently shot the breeze before going to give their afternoon lectures. North Liberal Arts' budget problems were too painful to discuss. It was much more fun that day to discuss a frivolous celebrity gossip story about a television actress, Loretta Alt, who was starring in a television drama, "Frau Investigator." The show was very loosely based on the career of investigative reporter Lena Fesch.

Fesch, now in her fifties and president and CEO of Fesch News Network, had laughed when asked about the TV series during an interview. She winked and said her career when she was young was far wilder than anything on the television show. Given, though, what Loretta Alt just announced, it seemed the life of the star of the show was also stranger than fiction.

Loretta Alt, age 29, like Prof. Fuchs, had announced that - as the result of a game of chance that she had played in Memphis - she would be spending most of her time as a free use indentured servant for seven years. In a brief public statement issued by Alt together with the producers' of "Frau Investigator," it was stated that the next season of "Frau Investigator" would be completed without difficulty because of the timing and special limits of Alt's servitude. Also, it was expected that there could be more seasons after that despite the pregnancy or pregnancies that generally occur as a result of such a free use sex servitude.

After all, Lena Fesch had gotten pregnant and had a child as a result of her ridiculously risky undercover investigations. The screen writers of "Frau Investigator" would just have to adopt the story as needed.

Professor Jones was the one, of course, to bring up the topic of Loretta Alt's ridiculous wager. Naturally he did it in the most annoying manner possible. "Given what the famous Ms. Alt did, Emily, are you still thinking of teaching next year as a visiting professor at Old South University? From Yoknapatawpha, Mississippi, it would sure be easy for you to skip up to Memphis to have some real excitement. It's less than a two-hour drive."

"What are you talking about?" Emily Fuchs replied.

"Oh, come on, it often seems like you are trying to be the most boring professor in history, but you have to have heard about Lori Alt's abrupt change of lifestyle as the result of what seems to have been a silly bet and the contract laws now applicable in Tennessee," Jones replied. "Ms. Alt went from being a Hollywood millionaire actress to becoming some sort of sex slave, although they don't call it that.

"Becoming such a slave might work out for her given all the marketable notoriety she's earning as either a slut or an idiot or both. All the sex tapes coming out of her from years ago and from last week are pretty interesting too."

"Ok," Emily answered, "although I am not a big fan of the show, or of watching television at all for that matter, I did hear that Ms. Alt lost some sort of bet and will be having a great deal of sex for the next seven years. I am really unclear on what she did or why"

"I don't know if anyone can say why she did it, least of all Alt herself," Professor Coolidge said. "As to what she did, apparently it is common for some young women in the south, and even some young men, to enter into contracts to participate in events in which they risk becoming free use sex workers for years in exchange for the chance to get enough money to get through college or for other things. What Loretta Alt was thinking making such a gamble I can't imagine. I gather Alt did grow up in Tennessee and Mississippi where having indentured servants is common. Taking a risk of becoming such a servant seems crazy to me."

"Come on," Jones said while grazing at the bare space between Coolidge's breasts, "if it had been a guy taking a stupid risk or making a stupid bet, maybe while high as a kite, you two would just shake your head and think 'men are idiots.' World literature is full of male idiots agreeing to fight duels or play chicken with fast cars. And, it's not like girls don't drive too fast, play truth or dare, go out with bad boys or otherwise do things for excitement that seem really stupid if they go wrong.

"Maybe Lori Alt was high on something and bored and decided that it would be exciting to take a little risk. I gather the laws of Tennessee allow her the freedom to be very unwise if she wants to do so. The sex tapes, which I don't mind admitting I watched, show pretty clearly that she definitely likes sex. I won't describe any details to you sensitive ladies."

Turning to look into Professor Fuchs's blue eyes and the way her able breasts and shapely hips pushed against the baggy form-concealing dress she wore, Jones said, "And Emily, unlike Lori Alt, don't you need money if that is part of what the gamble is about? We're all in trouble if the Board of Regents doesn't find some rich people to give a bundle of dough to a small college for kids who don't know what they want to do with their lives and don't think they can fit into a large university. Going down south and risking having to put out a whole lot of pussy for some number of years might make sense if you might get enough money out of it."

"No, you jerk," Emily responded. "I think you have me confused with Fanny Hill or one of the other ladies in your favorite books. I'm not a whore and agreeing to risk becoming one seems a lot like being one to me whatever the patriarchal English wrote in your dirty 18th and 19th Century novels.

"If I get laid off by North Liberal Arts, I will go back to Michigan City and teach English in high school if need be. I will not enter into a crazy contract that causes me to risk becoming some sort of sex slave whatever they call it. None of us really understand what sorts of weird games they are playing down there anyway, except that we know that no one has to play if they don't want to."

"Yes," Professor Coolidge said, "sex slavery was abolished 15 years ago as a result of reforms that were caused in part ironically by Lena Fesch. Now they just enforce contracts down there, contracts that they don't enforce up here unless the contracts were entered down there. What law applies to who and where is all rather complicated given the terms of the national reconciliation. I'd rather think about the Ramayana, or trickster stories from pre-colonial Ethiopia, or Wole Soyinka."

"Mainly, you like to show off your knowledge by talking about literature that no one else has heard of," Jones said.

"I read the Ramayana and still don't understand what happened to Sita or why Rama was so mean to her," Professor Fuchs said.

"Anyway, to get back to my point," Jones said, "Emily, you are still planning to go somewhere where people, mainly women, enter enforceable contracts that may cause them to become sex slaves for years and where because birth control and abortion are illegal, they might have multiple children they didn't plan on having."

"Yes I will go south, and, after we finish our coffee," Fuchs responded, "you are going to take the risk of crossing the street to walk back to campus knowing that you could spontaneously decide to jump in front of a student riding one of those new e scooters going 60 km per hour although you have no intention of doing anything of the sort. Unless one lives in a straitjacket in an insane asylum, we are all constantly presented with the temptation to do something suicidal, but we trust ourselves not to do it.

"Teaching this visiting teaching class for good money is an opportunity to relax, write, and teach a seminar near the home of William Faulkner. It is far too hot to be in Mississippi now in the summer and I do not like tornados, but January to April, it should be a lovely 21 centi-grad, or 70 degrees Fahrenheit. I think they still use Fahrenheit down there. I will come back here in May to teach my usual summer class, having had time to write a paper or two and learn about the world in which Faulkner lived. And I'll have some money in the bank.

"Meanwhile, you will have given your same boring lectures about Barry Lyndon, Silas Marner, and Oliver Twist for the thirtieth time."

"Now, Emily," Professor Coolidge said, "you need not become as nasty as Professor Jones even when he is being impertinent. It seems you both got off the wrong side of the bed this morning."

Prof. Jones interjected, "Leaving aside your sophomoric insult to my classes, Emily, your analogy about subjecting oneself to the risk of committing suicide by coming close to traffic was particularly inapt. I have shown no inclination to kill myself, but, unlike Connie, you have shown a strong inclination to throw away your dignity to enjoy sexual passion."

"And just how have I done that? I don't run around looking like Princess Leja at the foot of Jabba the Hutt like a few of the coeds around here," Emily Fuchs said.

"No, you dress like Emily Dickinson on the way to her mother's funeral," Jones shot back. "In your big glasses that look like they were made in 1965, you wrap up your ample breasts, thin waist and wide but not too wide hips and apparently great legs like you are afraid that a man touching any of that would cause you to melt in his arms."

"You exaggerate considerably, Thomas," Prof. Coolidge said. "Emily dresses like a scholar and you can hardly blame her for not wanting to flaunt her fabulous figure when there are guys like you around."

"You don't dress like Emily, Connie, and you also are built like a brick shithouse. The difference is that you are comfortable in your skin and comfortable that you can resist the effect of men appreciating your appeal. I'd be afraid you'd tear my head off if I touched you without permission. Emily, though, is apparently afraid that she would jump into bed with any guy who looks at her below the neck."

"Enough of this amateur psychology, Professor Jones," Professor Coolidge said. "Drawing the wild conclusion that Emily will go south and participate in some sort of wager in which she risks becoming a free use sex toy from the fact that Emily dresses modestly in a professional manner is ridiculous."

"No, it's not ridiculous. I know full well that every conservative man I know who is upset about homosexuality, transsexuals and cross dressers is a repressed pervert himself. It only stands to reason that a woman who on the surface is so afraid of arousing male lust, wants to be taken by a pirate shipload of men who will rip off her bodice before fucking her brains out."

"Balderdash," Coolidge said, "I think Emily is wise taking leave from North Liberal Arts to get a fresh perspective and maybe even get a start on finding a job that might not dissolve in a year or two. If I did not have tenure, I'd be looking for ways to look for a job without looking like I was looking for a job myself. If we don't hear some good news on college funding, I might just go ahead and see if a world literature instructor is needed at a major university no matter where it is located."

The three professors parted company. Later, Emily Fuchs could not help but think about Jones' rude remarks about her body and clothing.

Emily remembered how in college during a wild party in the dorm involving lots of beer and wine, the line to the girls' WC room got too long and she and a few friends went into one of the boy's rooms. Emily's friend Kate found and pointed out a lewd picture drawn in one of the stalls of a woman with large breasts and the words, "when you got Amanda's tits, you got her cunt."

Emily and Kate knew Amanda Tailor. She was from somewhere in the south. Some had joked that - because Emily and Amanda looked vaguely alike, were both about 170 cm tall, and were both pretty blonds with busty centerfold figures -Amanda was Emily's "more slutty southern sister." Amanda was reported to have slept with half the guys on campus. There was also amusement about her philosophy major as her philosophy seemed to be "let's just fuck."

Now, almost a decade later, Emily remembered seeing that graffiti and thinking that she had had sex with each of the three guys who she had allowed to feel up her breasts. It's not that I melt in their paws. I think it's just when I've let them go that far, I think subconsciously that it doesn't matter if they go all the way or maybe I just get too excited, she thought.

After seeing the graffiti, Emily resolved that she would not allow the guys to have access to her breasts unless she had decided to surrender completely. Months later, she resolved to focus on American literature and become a professor.

In Emily's blog that night after the meeting at the Writer's Mug, "Temple Drake" wrote, "I have learned from my past. My worst behavior was when I was high as a kite with my girlfriends, Kate and Cindy, in the apartment of Cindy's friend Mike and his roommates, Tom and Steve. We three girls were dressed in cut off shorts with skimpy halter tops that did not cover our 19-year year-old flat bellies. On a lewd whim, Mike offered all of us $50 to show our breasts. Kate and I said something like 'no fucking way,' but Cindy said, 'give me the money' and dropped her top the second Mike gave her a $50 bill.

"Kate looked shocked. I sort of giggled without paying attention to the fact that Tom had somehow sneaked behind me and quickly slipped his hands into my top and started to fondle my nipples. It was outrageous. I should have turned around, slapped his face, and stomped off. But I was so high, and it felt so good and it seemed like an electric charge went from my breasts to my pussy. I just let him keep his hands there.