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From: Foxbat <foxbat00@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Per Subiugum Libertas Part 2 (Mf cons nosex) by Foxbat
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Date: Wed, 15 Mar 2006 06:10:02 -0500
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Per Subiugum Libertas Part 2 (Mf cons nosex)


Disclaimer: This story contains graphic sex should not be
read if such stories are illegal in your state, or if you are a minor.

Please feel free to distribute this, on the condition that the
disclaimer and author's name remain intact and unaltered.

For previous parts, or other stories of mine, please check out
http://assm.asstr-mirror.org.

You can search by title or author, or just browse.  Happy reading.

Thanks to ASSTR, I also have a website at
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/foxbat/www/ where you can find all of my work.  This
is also available via ftp at www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/foxbat/


Feedback, comments, suggestions, etc are always welcomed and
appreciated at foxbat00@gmail.com





Per Subiugum Libertas Part 2


   First, to answer some potential criticism...

   A sane man might protest that I am abusing my power, leading astray
a young mind in a time of crisis and confusion.  To which I say, what
better time is there to lead a young mind astray?

   Surely no sexual gratification is worth prison.... While there's
only one way to know the answer to that, I won't be finding out, since
Didi was over the magic age of 18.  So not illegal, just immoral.

   One might object to so harshly introducing my sick proclivities to
Didi,  for throwing back her offer of relationship encumbered with (or
should I say bound? in) restrictions.  I have no response to this
charge.  I could argue that the discipline, firmness, and purpose
which our relationshup came to encompass was excactly what an anxious
and neurotic teenage girl needed.  But I don't hide myself behind
justifications.  I did it because I wanted to - the benefit to her was
incidental (at least at first).

   ***

   Morals aside, for a moment, I never thought much would come of it. 
I had thought my ransom of pictures was so far beyond the pale that
anything would be a matter of fantasy and conjecture.  I was wrong.

   As unbelievable as you might find it (I assure you I found it more
so), Didi walked into my office about two weeks after our last
confrontation, and dropped a plain manilla envelope on my desk, with a
smug grin of victory on her face, arms crossed across her chest.  At
first I didn't realize what it was - I picked it up and almost had a
seizure when I saw what was inside (I'll spare the salacious details,
but suffice it to say that the pictures within would be quite
damaging).

   I learned then and there, for all her huffing and puffing and
posturing and bitching, never to underestimate Didi's resolve.

   "Come back after classes," I told her.  She smiled, and flounced
out the door.

   ***

   I considered how to begin.  I didn't want to push too hard, but at
the same time I wanted to set the tone.  She would get the support she
wanted, but she would earn it in indulgence of my kink.

   When she returned, she closed the door without being asked.

   "First - the rules.

   "Rule One:  You may leave anytime you like.  I will never try to
stop you, or hold it against you in any way.

   "Rule Two:  If I order you to do something, you must do it.  If you
choose not to, our arrangement ends.  I won't ask you to do things I
think you're incapable of, but the decision rests with me, not you.

   "Rule Three:  No one knows.  I now have the pictures, which I will
use in the event that we are ever discovered."


   She stood there, looking at me, nodding.  I don't think this is
what she pictured.

   "Do you masturbate?"  I asked.  She stood there, motionless,
afraid, her eyes pinned to mine.  Silence.

   I repeated the question.  She started to say something, choked it
back, turned red, and finally, nodded.

   I pointed to the chair next to me.

   "Show me."

   Staring at me with those now-red eyes, that look of infinite blame
and betrayal, she turned and left my office.


    ***

   I went back to grading, and ten minutes later, she was back.  Legs
splayed over the arms of a chair, she came, her mouth open breathing
raggedly, and staring at me the entire time.  Strongheaded
determination overcame embarassment.

   ***

   This then was the pattern of our relationship:  demand, refusal,
waiting, compliance.





Continued...





Writing fantasy is like nailing a birds feet to the ground.  Where, in
the mind, one can fly from scene to scene, in writing tedious
connection is needed.  Where things can happen over, differently, in
endlessly delightful variation, in writing it happens only once - an
entire dough of possibility extruded into a single noodle of
narrative.  And just as surely as nailing a bird down kills it,
writing it will kill the fantasy.



I always love to hear your thoughts and opinions:  foxbat00@gmail.com


Yours,
Foxbat

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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