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From: Alexis Siefert <ealexissiefert@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} DeGrading Policies (4/4) (Writer's Weakest Link) {blackmail, nc}
Date: Mon, 21 May 2001 11:10:04 -0400
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Dear Readers:

The following story is the final round of a "Writer's
Weakest Link" contest.  It began with 5 authors
writing in relay fashion with a 500 word limit per
story section.  At the end of each round, the writers
voted on the section they felt was the "weakest." 
That author did not continue to the next round.  What
follows is round 4, which brought our final 2 authors
head-to-head.  All of the original 5 writers voted on
the ultimate winner of this round, and the ultimate
winner of the contest.  Of course, the real winners
are the readers. 

Thank you to all the authors for their participation
and their patience as we wrap up this first Writer's
Weakest Link contest.

Please, the authors would love to hear from you.  I'll
eagerly pass along any comments you are inclined to
make.

Alexis.

PS - the results are posted at the end of the story. 
Enjoy!


__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Yahoo! Auctions - buy the things you want at great prices
http://auctions.yahoo.com/

<1st attachment, "Round 4 Complete.txt" begin>


Hiss/thwack! Jesus, the pain was blistering. Where did this slip
of a girl learn to do that? I looked back under my left armpit,
and she stood haloed by the spotlight, legs apart, a naked
avenging angel.

Swish/crack! Christ, she was slicing me to ribbons. Why wasn't I
screaming? Why was I suffused with this strange, warm glow? And
why did I have the first bone-hard erection that I'd had in three
years? Despite the agony, the ecstasy made my head spin.

I looked again at Perfect Perkins. Eyes ablaze, she was terrible
but she was beautiful. Suddenly, heart-breakingly,
skin-shreddingly, I was in love.

Fizz/smack! The skin on my back was broken. I was on fire.
Exultantly, I lifted my head. "More," I screamed. "For pity's
sake, give me more."

Music. Oh no, Dr Christodoulides was singing into themicrophone:

"For what is a man, what has he got?
"If not himself, then he has naught.
"To show the things he truly feels;
"Indeed the words of one who kneels.
"The record shows he took the blows -
"And did it his way!"

I blacked out. I must have, because I opened my eyes and saw her
leaning over me, concern on her sweet face. My awful angel,
Perfect Perkins.

"I love you, Suzanne Perkins," I croaked.

I was huddled on a couch in the back office of the University
Rowing Club auditorium. She was swabbing my ripped and torn back
soothingly, and the nipples of her breasts were brushing my bare
shoulder.

My long-lost erection sprang back to life, straining with energy
and anticipation. "I love you," I said again.

Her eyes locked on mine with feverish intensity. "We're both
fucked here," she said. "Take me away with you. Prof, if I can
whip you every day, I'm yours."

My heart lurched like a happy teenager. So did my cock. She loved
me!

Hmm. I recalled the letter lying on my desk, offering me the
position of Emeritus Professor of Ethics at the University of
Alaska in Fairbanks.

"What does cold weather do for you?" I asked her.

She smiled grimly and gripped my hard cock with a strong hand.
"It makes my nipples hard and it makes me mean."

^^^^^ 

"Yes.  I understand.  Thank you."  I was numb as I hung up the
phone.

"Professor?"

Shit.  How do I tell Suzanne what has happened?

"I don't understand it.  The University of Alaska refused to
accept me.  Something about this one refusing to release me from
my contract because of my excellent management of the Rowing
Club.  It doesn't make sense."

The door banged open and Helen Christodoulides stood there. 
"What the fuck are you doing?!"  Her breasts were heaving and she
was shouting as she stalked over and tossed a piece of paper on
my desk.  "Nigel, I don't know how the hell you did it, but the
regents rejected me as the duly elected President of the Rowing
Club.  'Moral turpitude and conduct that doesn't conform to the
image required of an institution of higher learning'."

She ignored Suzanne and leaned on my desk.  "Come on, Nigel.  I
had it cold.  You're screwed if you stay here after what
happened.  Tell me how you managed to fuck me.  I know you have
the job in Alaska if you want it."

"I didn't fuck you.  I don't have the Alaska job.  The regents
won't let me go because they want me to stay on as President of
the Rowing Club."

Something happened that I thought I'd never see.  Dr. Helen
Christodoulides was speechless.  Stunned, she carefully sat in
the other chair in front of my desk.

My lover and my worst enemy sat opposite me.  Both of them wanted
me off the campus.  *I* wanted off the campus.

"Suzanne?  Do you really love me?"

She nodded.

"Helen?  You still hate my guts and would love to see them
frozen.  Right?"

She chuckled and grinned.  At least *she* hadn't changed.

"What the fuck do we do?"  I was grasping at straws.  If Helen
Christodoulides couldn't think of a way to sort this out, we were
well and truly screwed.

"Not a fucking thing, Professor."  Roger Van Den Berg III was
leaning insolently against the door frame.  When he knew he had
our attention, he started laughing softly.  "What made you fools
think you could blackmail the son of a Supreme Court Judge?"  He
went on relentlessly.  "Never mind.  I needed an edge.  The three
of you are it.  None of you are going anywhere.  Suzanne is going
to graduate in a couple of years, with honors.  I had plans for
her but she's been fucked by a donkey.  Can't have someone like
that too close to me, can I?  I don't want her to feel left out
so I imagine I might be able to find her a good position in the
entertainment industry."  He started laughing again.  It was an
evil laugh.  A knowing laugh.

He paused in his laughter and his eyes got hard.  "We too--have
our private clubs.  I control you and through the three of you, a
good part of this university.  I don't think the club I have in
mind is going to reject my application for membership.  Give me
another 15 years or so and who knows?  President of the USA has a
nice ring to it." 

As he walked away, his cynical laughter hung there.

Taunting us.

Mocking us.

~~~~~~~~

Dear Readers:

Dr. Spin, the writer of Section 1 of this story, has been voted
by his fellow authors as the strongest writer of this round and
therefore the "winner" of our game.  Congratulations, Spin.  It
was a long race.

Alexis.


<1st attachment end>


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