Author: Bulgroz the Third Title: The Adjusters #28 - DIK-Bash Keywords: MF, mc Posted: May 1, 2012 Edited: May 1, 2012 The Adjusters #28 DIK-Bash Daniel was nervous as he climbed the front steps of the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity house right behind Jackson. He tugged at the black scarf with eye holes that he had wrapped over the upper half of his face in the manner of Zorro, and adjusted the heavy sash that crossed his chest. He was fidgeting, he knew, but could not really help it. His main focus was devoted to fighting the sense of dread that was suffusing him since he had donned this pirate's costume and met up with Jackson--dressed as Thor from the current Marvel movies. The mission for the evening was clear: get in, locate Jenn and Kyra, subdue them with the narcotic-laced needleless syringe he had stashed away in an inside pocket, then get them out of the house to bring them to Doctor Cargyle so that he can cure them. They could deal with Biff and the rest of the sorry bunch afterwards, possibly even saving the other girls. Like Serena. Daniel cringed at the thought that he would not be able to do anything for her tonight, but he swore that he would get her out from under the brothers' thrall before the week was out. When Jackson was stopped by the bouncer at the door of the house, Daniel stepped up next to him. The large man asked for tickets, which Jackson presented promptly. The bouncer took them, glancing at the fraternity ring on Jackson's finger, and then examined the tickets, running them under a portable light that illuminated thin concentric purple circles hidden in the paper. He examined the tickets for a long time, once in a while glancing up at Jackson and Daniel, sizing them up. He finally handed them back, asked for the two young men to give him the back of their hands, and he stamped them with what had to be an invisible stamp. Daniel had hoped that they would not be searched. While he might have been able to explain the syringe--he could claim it was an emergency insulin shot for an imagined diabetes--it would have been more difficult to justify the taser he had borrowed from Cindy, the same taser he had used to subdue the doctor, which was hidden in the folds of his sash. They were not searched. Inside, the frat house was full--not overcrowded, but full--and Daniel could not help a shiver. The last big party he had been to was that infamous NADA party at the end of the previous semester, that party that saw Radhu grabbed and threatened with extreme bodily harm in front of an assembly of bloodthirsty drunken students. They had been lucky, Radhu's subsequent post-traumatic agoraphobia notwithstanding. Daniel dearly hoped that tonight's event would not degenerate quite so dreadfully. He thought about the small hidden camera he had buttoned to his costume, the one that was feeding video back to Radhu. At least this time he had some potential backup in case things really went south. He thumbed his phone, called his friend for a final check that everything was working okay. Radhu did not answer. "What's up?" asked Jackson. The boy seemed anxious. "It's Rad. He's not answering." "You sure he's got our backs, right?" "I trust him with my life." Jackson grunted. "What?" "I dunno. He's weird, that's all. I don't get people without emotions." "He's got emotions. If he didn't, he wouldn't be cooped up in his apartment afraid of the world." "Yeah, maybe. Whatever. Well, we're in. Where do we start?" Daniel looked around, noting that there seemed to be two classes of people milling about. He already knew that tonight's was an invitation-only event. Several revelers were fully costumed, some--like a remarkably full-featured Batman complete with rubber-cast muscles--clearly having gone to great lengths to secure top-of-the-line outfits. The rest, by far the majority, were older, the women wearing evening dresses, the men decked in suits and ties, both only sporting masquerade-style eye masks. "What's with the dressiness and the masks?" Jackson looked around. "Alums. Tonight's all about wooing rich alums, both in the fraternity, and without. Rumor has it that President Calhoun might even show up. Kevin's been stressed out about this party for weeks now." "Does that help us, or not?" "I don't know. Many of them will be distracted, of course," he said, nodding meaningfully towards a small group of alumni. Daniel understood. Circulating amongst the guests were girls, beautiful girls, and to say they were dressed skimpily was to ridicule the concept. Every one of them wore a piece of lingerie, from translucent lacy nightgowns to sheer babydolls and tight corsets, as well as tall platform heels, large loop silver earrings, and lots of silver dangles that caught the light. A quick look confirmed that each girl had a silver bracelet on her wrist. DIK girls, all of them. And thus programmed to obey orders given by fraternity members. "So I guess all of those girls are there to serve the guests..." "Pretty much," nodded Jackson, looking around to make sure that they were not drawing any unwanted attention. "All the brothers were told that alums have priority, and that they should be encouraged to use the girls as much as possible. The idea is to put those alums in a good mood, and get them to give. Kevin said something about allowing donating alums to spend a night with a girl when they come and visit. You know--as a nice thing to do to a generous donor..." His tone of voice indicated that Jackson thought the idea unpalatable. Daniel looked at his companion, and wondered whether Jackson would have reacted that way four months earlier, before he had fallen in love with Kyra and before she was snatched away from him by Biff using the exact same tools the fraternity was using to control their girls. Daniel watched a tall well-dressed man walk up to one of the girls, a curvy blonde wearing a light green chemise that exposed a generous expanse of breast flesh, and strike up a conversation. "Wait," said Daniel, a thought striking him, "do the alums have a ring that lets them control the girls too?" Jackson frowned, looked around, then shook his head. "Don't think so. I remember Kevin nervous about letting the alums know too much about the girls. I doubt he'd have given them a way to control them." Jackson followed Daniel's gaze and stared at the well-dressed man and the curvy blonde. "Ah, there. Look. There's a brother behind her--Chris, I think. Anyways, I think he's there to control the girl. I wouldn't be surprised if--" he looked around, finding and examining a few more girls, "right, there's a brother with every girl. I bet he's there to tell her what to do, and to make sure she remains triggered." Daniel saw for himself that there was a costumed fellow keeping close to every single DIK girl, staying out of the way but remaining close at hand. The girls mingled pleasantly, and always made sure to present their body in the most flattering light. It was as if they were models on the catwalk, to be seen, admired, desired. "Okay," said Daniel, shaking his head and taking in the guests as a whole. "Let's find Kyra and Jenn. I say we split--we'll cover more ground that way. You got your phone? Good. Let's meet back here--" he pointed to a statue in the corner of the hall, "in an hour." Jackson nodded. "Be careful," added Daniel. For the next half hour, Daniel strolled about the large house, surreptitiously watching everyone, striving not to attract any attention to himself while at the same time trying to spot Biff's bulk through the costumes, or Jenn or Kyra. He figured that Biff may well have brought the girls to the party in disguise, perhaps to prevent having to share them with alums. He nodded back to the various people that nodded to him, giving silent thanks to the kind soul that had decreed that tonight's party would be a costumed party. His first trip around the house yielded nothing. No Biff, no Jenn, no Kyra. Serena also was nowhere to be found. He had spotted Kevin at some point, recognizable in his Roman centurion getup, and he had seemed deep in discussion with a group of older male alumni. Daniel had grabbed a drink on his circuit and was nursing it, needing to keep his head as clear as possible. He mingled with a few groups when he could not avoid it, trying to stick close to alumni rather than fraternity brothers to avoid anyone recognizing him. Much to his surprise, he found himself caught up in conversation with a high executive of an international corporate consulting firm specializing in developing economies, and even pocketed a business card. The executive was soon distracted, however, when a lithe and toned Asian with a minuscule blue bra and panty set caught his eye, and Daniel let him go, watching the large man practically swoon before the much smaller girl when she snuggled up close to him, and noting that her handler--for lack of a better term--who sported a surprisingly realistic shark head, was hovering close by. When the large man's hand slid down the girl's back to cup one of her cheeks and pull her groin tight against his thigh, Daniel's jaw clenched, and he watched the man address the young man with the shark's head, who in turns said something to the girl before the mismatched couple walked away, the girl engulfed in the larger man's right arm, towards what was to be undoubtedly a less frequented room. The young man with the shark head followed several steps behind. Something must have shown in Daniel's face through his mask because a young man wearing a Star Fleet uniform from The Next Generation era looked at him with concern. "You okay, man?" Daniel nodded. "Yeah. Just great. Thanks." He flashed a genial grin to the bewildered young man, rose his glass in a silent toast, and turned his heels to continue the search for his fiancee. * * * Jackson carved his own circuitous route through the frat house. He was less taken with the extraordinary sights of the DIK girls walking around in skimpy outfits and mingling amorously with random men because he had seen it all before at previous parties, although none quite at the scale of this one. The house had even been decorated, someone going to the length of hanging a few paintings that even to his own not overly cultured eye looked as though they would not be misplaced in a good museum. He had been talking about his Thor costume for the past two months, and therefore his fellow brothers recognized him immediately and saluted or high-fived him when they saw him. He felt a tug of regret and shame at seeing them so happy and carefree. Spending time with Daniel and Cindy--more generally, with outsiders to the fraternity--had started to affect his perception of his fellow brothers and of the fraternity as a whole. And, of course, there had been Kyra. Why don't you face it, Jackson? he admonished himself. The bunch of them fucked your girlfriend, over and over again, whether she wanted to or not. Biff snatching Kyra had been merely the last straw, the forceful reminder he had needed to finally grasp the whole sorry state of affairs. Looking across the room, he spotted a friend, easily recognized in his fireman's costume, acting as handler for a tall brunette with runner's legs and a shy smile. She was busy sitting on the knees of a slim man in a dark grey suit that looked like he might break if she squeezed him too tightly. Her face was buried in his neck, and he was running the tip of his fingers across her back, pausing once in a while to play with the strings holding up sheer camisole top. "Hey Sonny." Sonny jumped when Jackson spoke to him, and nearly slammed his head back against the wall. "What? Oh! Jackson, is that you?" "Yup. Jackson of Asgard, at your service." Sonny smiled thinly, glancing at the brunette that had shifted on the thin man's lap to look up at another man in a business suit that had approached the couple. "Nice costume, Jackson. As good as you said it'd be." "Thanks. Yours too. Listen, have you seen Kyra around?" Sonny, his eyes never leaving the now threesome across from him, shook his head, never looking into Jackson's eyes. "No. No, haven't seen her." "You sure? I think I've seen every other girl around." Sonny smiled nervously, still avoiding Jackson's eyes. "Well, she's your girl and all, you know. I bet Kevin thought he'd keep her out of this one." Jackson nodded, knowing full well that Kevin would do no such thing, and Sonny had to know as well. "Yeah, maybe. What about Biff? Seen Biff around?" Jackson thought that Sonny would scream and run at Biff's name. The frightened young man looked left and right like a bird hearing a cat. "N... No. Haven't seen Biff either. Not tonight. Not here. Can't say he's here. W... Why?" Jackson gently chucked his friend on the shoulder. "Relax, Sonny. What's with you? I just need to ask him a few things. Been a while I haven't talked to him, that's all." Sonny chuckled nervously. "Yeah, sure. Okay. No, I haven't seen him." "Hey Sonny--" The voice startled both of them. Jackson turned around to see the new arrival, a young man dressed as a superhero--the Green Arrow, in all likelihood. Sonny sounded relieved. "Brad!" Brad looked at Jackson and seemed to recognize him, and then seemed to redden slightly--it was hard to tell underneath the mask. "Jackson. Good to see you. Nice costume." Jackson nodded. "Thanks! Yours too. We should team up." He did not think his joke was that funny, and Brad seemed to share his opinion. Sonny laughed, a nervous high-pitched giggle that grated on Jackson. "Jackson here was... was asking about Biff," Sonny told Brad. "Was he?" Brad looked at Jackson. "Haven't seem Biff tonight, sorry." Jackson heard the unspoken "yet" trailing Brad's sentence, but did not push. He did not want to seem too eager. "How about Kyra?" Jackson asked. "Is she around?" Brad made a face that Jackson could not decipher through the mask. "Haven't seen her either. What's the matter, lost your girlfriend?" There was an odd sort of challenge in Brad's voice, and Jackson almost asked him what he meant by that. Did he know something about Biff and Kyra? What if he did not know anything? Asking about it would then certainly arouse his suspicions. Which may lead Brad to go talk to Biff and maybe get access to Kyra. Because Jackson knew that Brad had a soft spot for Kyra--Brad had spent a lot of time with her before she became Jackson's girlfriend. Jackson glanced at Sonny, who was shuffling in place, looking like he might wet his pants. Jackson was willing to bet Sonny could be made to talk, but not as long as Brad was around. Putting the information aside and willing to wait until he could corner Sonny alone, he said goodbye to the young men and resumed his search, plastering a smile on his face, and mingling with his fellow brothers along the way. * * * Daniel was in one of the larger reception rooms in which the party had naturally congregated, listening to a three-way conversation between two banking executives and what sounded like a finance student from the fraternity, talking about the European bond markets--one of the executive was certain that he had found a way to benefit from the disconnect between the various European Union members' fiscal policies and the unified Euro, while the other banker gave every sign of being unconvinced and the student tried to match the first banker's ideas with various theories he had learned in the past year. A group of students had gathered around the three men, perhaps in an attempt to get an inside into the latest quick rich scheme. Daniel used the assembly as an inconspicuous way to keep an eye on the rest of the crowd, still looking for either Jenn, Kyra, or Biff. Around him, the party had kicked into higher gear. The girls, still walking around like sultry lingerie models, were now freely groped by the suited men and not a few of the women, giggling and kissing in response to their touch. Breasts were grabbed and squeezed and once in a while would spill out in plain view, asses were caressed, crotches were cupped. The girls, far from discouraging such attentions, actively invited them by their actions and often their words. They were actively pressing their bodies into those of the men around them, rubbing themselves against them, in a wanton display of sexual availability. Daniel adjusted his sash to make sure it did not block the miniature camera that Radhu had given him and that was sown up as a button on the puffy shirt of his pirate costume. He wondered what Radhu thought of the party. Daniel had just seen Jackson winding his way through the hallway down towards one of the other reception rooms when he spotted a figure he thought he recognized from the corner of his eye. His senses immediately on alert, he stepped away from the group--apologizing to one of the fraternity brothers that was practically leaning into his shoulder to get a better view of the discoursing trio--and tried to get a clearer view. There--the girl in the black slip, perfect body, looking very much like... He winced when he recognized the long blonde locks. It was not Jenn. But he knew her. When she turned around, he confirmed it--Jenn's friend from her English classes, the cheerleader. Trish. The catholic girl who despaired of ever finding a nice boy to marry. He approached the blonde, who seemed to be flirting with a rotund little man whose mask kept threatening to slide off his sweaty reddened face. Daniel pegged the man as a prime candidate for an early heart attack. Trish was standing close to him, fully half a head taller than the shorter man in her platform heels, and she was running her hand lightly over his jacket sleeve. Daniel noted the man's wheezing breath, and was tempted to step up to him and gently guide him to the exit, advising him towards a proper diet and eventually some exercise. With a stab of guilt he wondered whether the man was sick--but whatever sense of empathy Daniel might have experienced quickly dissipated once he saw Trish grab the man's hand and put it on her breast, whereupon the man's eyes widened underneath his mask and his wheezing increased. The man blurted something that Daniel could not hear, and he turned to someone dressed as a typical robot straight out of a fifties sci-fi flick--Trish's handler, no doubt--and talked for a long time before pulling something out of his pocket and passing it on to Robot Boy. After a last longing look at Trish, he reached inside his jacket for an inhaler, and waddled away. Daniel saw Trish follow the retreating man with her eyes, her expression neutral, and Robot Boy stepped up to her and said something. Trish nodded, leaning into him, holding on to his arm, snuggling close to him, before scanning the crowd with her eyes. She caught Daniel's eye and held his gaze, smiling. If she recognized him, she gave no indication, and Daniel was bothered by this until he remembered that he was in fact meant to be unrecognizable in his disguise. On an impulse, he walked up to Robot Boy. Trish smiled at him. "Time for your break, Robby." The handler turned to him. "What's that you say?" "Nils has me going 'round and relieving every guy for fifteen minutes, giving you all a chance to relax and mingle a bit, maybe catch a bathroom or something. I just relieved--What's his name? Guy with the shark's head? Anyway, you're next." Robot Boy hesitated. "Didn't know we got breaks... I thought we were supposed to go till eleven." Daniel shrugged, making a gesture to signify that the wishes of people in charge are always impenetrable. "Can't tell you. All I know's that Nils asked me to do this, and I know better than argue with the guy--you know what I mean." Jackson had given Daniel the rundown on the people in the fraternity, and had pointed out how the vice-president was the hands-on officer, implementing Kevin Cusker's edicts. And Nils, with his calm efficiency that was rumored to come from deadly training with some Northern European special forces, tended to frighten the fraternity in a deeper and subtler way than Biff with his brute strength. Robot Boy nodded. "Yeah, I know. Still..." Daniel gently bumped him on the shoulder, in a friendly gesture. "Come on--head out to the bar--they got out some of the good stuff. Some amazing imports. You like microbrews? There should be some left, if you hurry." Robot Boy's eyes flashed at the thought, and he hesitated. "Oh--Right. Sure... Okay..." He took a step, hesitated again, and Daniel reassured him. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on the cheerleader chick. I don't wanna get in trouble either." Robot Boy nodded, reassured, looked around, then leaned in closer to Daniel. "Thanks. Listen: make sure no one else snags her before fatso--you know, the guy that was just here?--comes back. He's really sweet on Trish here, and I sorta promised him that she'd spend a bit of time one-on-one with him." He looked at Daniel meaningfully. Daniel nodded noncommittally. "Sure..." Robot Boy might have mistaken Daniel's own hesitation for suspicion, because he looked around once more before whispering. "I know we're not supposed to let the alums do that just yet... Not until later this evening. But fatso gave me--let's just say he gave me a bit of an incentive. Keep her close by until he gets back, and half of it is yours. Okay?" "Sure." Robot Boy grinned and skittered away, while Daniel shivered, his gaze going from the disappearing form of Robot Boy to Trish. A bit of time one-on-one, Robot Boy had said. Trish was looking at Daniel, a gentle smile on her face. Daniel knew exactly what he had meant. Jackson had given him an outline of how the evening activities would be going. For the next two hours, until ten, it was conversation and mingling and generally social time, and the guests were allowed to be familiar with the girls, get to know them, touch them, kiss them, but nothing more. At ten, things would get more serious, and the guests will then be allowed to spend time alone with the girls in rooms provided for that purpose. With those girls programmed to obey any sort of instruction, it did not take a genius to understand what would happen. The short man from earlier had evidently decided he could not wait a few hours to get Trish alone. He looked at her, trying to mesh the vision before him with the girl he remembered from a few outings with Jenn, the girl that was too shy and self-conscious to show much skin, the girl that wore tights with her cheerleading costume, the girl that saved herself for marriage despite the pressure from her occasional boyfriends to put out. And here she was, dressed in a thin black slip that clung to her body like a second skin and showcased every curve of her body and exposed her long legs and an ass tightened by years of gymnastics, perched on heels so high that a single misstep would probably sideline her from cheerleading and ruin her scholarship. And Daniel was sure that she was a virgin no longer, her purity having been ripped away by the fraternity long ago. Trish took a step towards him, a smile on her pink-painted lips. "Hi," she said, her voice low, "you like?" "Excuse me?" "You're looking at me," continued Trish, looking down, almost demure. "And it makes my nipples tingle and get hard when you look at me." She looked up at him, innocent and eager. "Do you want to feel them?" She thrust her chest out, proving that she was correct in her assessment. Two very hard bumps topped the stretched black silk. "Huh, maybe later, thanks." Daniel thought fast. He felt horrible for the girl. He was here to save Jenn and Kyra, perhaps Serena--but every girl here was a victim, someone that had hopes and dreams and deserved to live their lives unimpeded. He had to try to save them too. But how? "Listen--Trish, right?" "You can call me whatever you want... Trish... girl... cunt..." Daniel shook his head. "Listen to me, Trish. I want you to get dressed and leave. Be quiet, try not to be seen, but grab your coat or whatever clothes you had coming here, and leave this house and don't come back." It was worth a shot. Trish looked at him, blinking twice. "I'm sorry, I can't do that. Scott told me to stay here and mingle with the guests. You are a guest. I am mingling. I should do what the guests ask me, but within the limits of my instructions. And leaving is outside of those. So I can't leave. I'm sorry. Because I would really like to please you..." She emphasized please, putting her hand on Daniel's chest and playing with a dangling thread on his sash. Scott must be Robot Boy, Daniel thought, the brother that triggered her. According to Jackson and Cindy, a girl will only respond to whomever triggered her, or whomever that person instructs the girl to obey in turn--like Jackson had done with Cindy back at Radhu's place earlier that evening. Maybe if I trigger her? "Trish, I am your DIK brother," he said, looking her in the eyes. The blonde looked down at his hands, and frowned before giggling softly. "You're funny," she said, "and I do find funny sexy." "Trish, I want you to get dressed and leave." She shook her head softly. "I can't do that, I told you. And now I'm thinking you don't like me because you want me to go away. Is there anything--anything--I can do to make you want me to stay? I can be very... accommodating..." She ran her fingers up to his neck, up the sides of his face, her fingertips dancing softly on his skin. As expected, the trigger had not worked. Her glance down at his hands confirmed what he already knew, that he needed a fraternity ring. Maybe he could steal one from someone, or borrow Jackson's? Maybe. Focus, Daniel, he admonished himself. You got a job to do. Don't get distracted. "Okay, I understand. Do you mind if we talk a bit then?" Trish made a sad face, and snuggled up closer. Daniel could feel the heat of her body through his costume. "You just want to talk? I could think of so many better things to do with our mouths..." Daniel swallowed. Between Serena earlier and Trish now, this was getting ridiculous. He felt like he was in a bad porn movie. "Just talk for now, yes. Have you seen Jenn or Kyra around?" "Who?" asked Trish, blowing gently into his neck. Her crotch was pressed into his thigh, and she was rubbing it up and down slowly. "Jenn? My fiancee? Your friend from English? Remember?" "Oh yeah, Jenn, of course. She's a real dish. You must have a lot of fun fucking her. I always thought she must be a real wildcat in bed. I'd let her do me in a heartbeat--with a big strap-on, pumping in and out, pulling my hair, making me scream. Mmm!..." Her rubbing picked up, and her hands clenched on Daniel's back. He put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away. "Have you seen her tonight?" "No, haven't seen her in... in a long time, really. Why? Do you want to have a threesome? Is that what it'd take for you to run your hands over my body? For me to join you and your fiancee in a long fuck session? I'd do it--any time. We'd put on such a show for you you'd come in your pants just watching us making out..." "What about Kyra? Redhead Kyra? Have you seen her tonight?" "No, haven't seen Kyra since last week. You hard for her too? She's cute, and she's sub, did you know that? She loves being told what to do. Makes her juice up like crazy. Tastiest honeyed pussy juice you've ever had. And wanna know a secret?" She stepped into Daniel's arms, pressing in close, her crotch against his hardening cock, and whispered in his ear. "I juice up easy too. Fact is, I'm getting so wet just speaking to you that I'm messing up my thong. Wanna feel? Just slide your hand down there. But watch out--my pussy's gonna suck your fingers right up. Fact is, she's liable to suck up anything that gets close. Do you have anything my pussy and I can suck on?" "How about Biff, Trish? Have you seen him?" Daniel thought he saw Trish flinch slightly. It was subtle, but it was there, in the back of her eyes. But she was pressing her breasts into him again, practically purring, before he could ponder what he saw. "You wanna double-team me with Biff? You are a naughty boy, aren't you? Are you going to do me in the butt while Biff plows my pussy? That'd be soooo hot!" There was no discussing with her. Jackson had warned him. Cindy had warned him. He thought Serena earlier had been bad, but this was worse. Anything he said, anything he asked, was turned to innuendo and flirty material by the blonde cheerleader. He realized he was disappointed--he had wanted to probe her, ask her about her life as a programmed slave, investigate whether she was happy, all in the perhaps vain hope of learning more about what Jenn might be going through. But it was hopeless. He was contemplating ways of dragging Trish away from the party without causing undue trouble when the decision was taken out of his hands by the return of the short rotund man. "Hello?" the man asked, looking at Trish in Daniel's arms, a slight frown on his face. He had a hint of a foreign accent, something vaguely British, and his voice was tinny, hitting notes on both high and low harmonics simultaneously, which lent an odd uncertain effect to his speech. He seemed to have rushed back from somewhere, as he was out of breath and sweating more severely than earlier. Trish did not seem to mind. "Lawrence!" she laughed, and moving away from Daniel hugged the shorter man, who looked at Daniel curiously. "Where is Scott?" asked the man. Daniel shrugged. "He had to go somewhere. I'm his replacement. I think he went to get something for Trish here. She's... huh... she's not feeling very well." "I am?" wondered Trish, who was rubbing herself against the man she had called Lawrence. Daniel figured that she had been instructed to favor alumni over students for the evening, a move consistent with the intent of the party. "Yeah, you were telling me you were feeling a bit feverish. Perhaps you should lie down for a bit..." Trish turned to Lawrence, who looked at her askance. "I guess I am feeling a bit feverish. But that's just because I'm so hot for you, Lawrence." She rubbed her face against his, and he dropped one of his hands to her ass and squeezed it, making her squeal in delight. "Perhaps this fellow is right," Lawrence replied, almost giggling. "Perhaps you should lie down until you feel better. I shall come with you to make sure you are taken care of." Daniel shivered. The man was smarmy, and not in a good way. "You gonna take my temperature, right? To make sure?" Trish asked, twirling Lawrence tie around her finger while she pushed her right knee between his legs. "You gonna put your thermometer in my mouth? Unless you prefer to put it up my butt?" Lawrence giggled again, as Daniel struggled to find a way to get Trish away from the man. Unfortunately, Scott--Robot Boy--reappeared, looking satisfied and surprised and happy to see Lawrence again. "Ha! You're back," he said. "Excellent! Thanks for keeping an eye, man, appreciate it", he told Daniel. "As for you," he turned to Lawrence, after looking around to make sure no one else was looking, "here's the key to my room. Up the stairs, turn right, fifth door on the right. There's a 2001 poster on the door." He handed a key to Lawrence, who pocketed it and put an envelope back in Scott's hand. "Thanks. And now," he turned to the blonde girl that was still wiggling in Lawrence's arms, landing kisses all over the man's neck, "Trish, I want you to listen to me. You are going to follow Lawrence here and for the next half hour you are going to do everything he tells you to do--except you cannot leave the frat house. And once the half hour has elapsed, I want you to forget everything that has happened, and come back here. Do you understand?" "I understand, Scott," she replied, shivering slightly. Cindy had told Daniel of the thrill of obeying the orders of a brother that had you under his thrall--she described it as a thirsty sensation down in her crotch, one that she knew full well could only be quenched by a hard dick, the hard dick of the boy that uttered the trigger sentence. For Cindy, who was in control of her actions even when she was in the thrall of a brother, the drive were resistible. But for the rest of the girls, it was a powerful overwhelming force, heightened by every act of obedience that increased the level of arousal and its attendant desire. Daniel read it all in Trish's eyes as she internalized what Scott said. Lawrence smiled widely, nodding to Scott. He offered his arm to Trish before heading out towards the stairs, the blonde girl hanging on to his arm with her hips swaying wildly as she tried to maintain as close a contact with the short round man as she could. His hand had gone back down to her ass, pawing her restlessly the whole way, pushing the hem of her slip upwards to access more flesh. "Here," said Scott, handing the envelope to Daniel after having carefully removed several bills. "That's for you. Thanks for keeping an eye on her." Daniel hesitated, then grabbed the money. It would have looked suspicious to do otherwise. "No problem," he said, trying to match Scott's tone. "Easiest gig ever." He patted Scott on the back and left, claiming other brothers to relieve. He stared at the envelope again once he was out of sight. It seemed to stare back at him, full of reproach. He had not only stood there, powerless, watching Trish disappear with a man that he knew would take advantage of her--the look in his eyes had been unmistakable--but he had also been paid for it. Blood money. He did not know what to do with it. He shook his head. This was not a good way to start the evening. He needed to focus. Jenn and Kyra. Everything else is secondary. He still did not know what he would do if he saw Serena. That was when he realized that he had been stupid. Really, really stupid. Back at Radhu's apartment, he could have simply had Jackson order Serena to stay at home for the evening, turn her phone off, and not answer the door. If the Delta Iota Kappa boys had not been able to get in touch with her, they would have been unable to trigger her and order her to come to the party. Daniel felt so dumb he wanted to slam his head against the wall. Why did he not think of that then? And now it was probably too late. Serena was probably right here, at the party, compelled to strut her body and flirt shamelessly with horny frat boys and lecherous alumni. He took a second to compose himself, to clear his head, before going back to his search. He needed to find the girls and get out of there. * * * Lawrence Biggby unlocked the door with the 2001 A Space Odyssey poster, fighting with all of his might to maintain some semblance of calm and composure. That little minx Trish had clung to him the whole trip up the stairs, and the press of her big tits against his arm had made concentrating on the steps difficult. The girl was hot, so much better looking than those used-up tramps he usually found himself with, there was no contest. Incredibly, he felt his prick try to swell in his pants. The room itself was pretty much as he had expected. Small, with a single bed along one wall, a desk and a small bookshelf along another, a recessed area with a sitting chair, and a closet. In typical dormitory fashion, the room was a mess, with clothes strewn about haphazardly, and the walls were covered with posters from old science-fiction movies with the odd popular female singer in a come-hither pose mixed in. Lawrence did not know whether to chuckle or to hurl. He let Trish walk in after him, admiring the sway of her ass in her thin slip as she did. Jesus, is she fine or what? he groaned inside. He closed the door behind him, locking it. Trish turned to him, looking expectant. For a moment, he hesitated. This was so different than all the other times, he almost did not know how to proceed. Usually, the girl would ask him what he wanted, all business, hashing out the terms of the deal. Not this time. Trish just stood there, looking at him, waiting. Waiting for me to tell her what to do, he thought, still unable to fully comprehend what the boy, Scott, had told him. That Trish here would do anything he wanted, anything he asked, anything he ordered, with enthusiasm, eagerness, pleasure. No matter how vile or degrading, this gorgeous tall blonde would submit to whatever desires Lawrence had with nary a complaint. He took a step towards the blonde--who was taller than he was with her slut heels, something he was used to but which still galled him somewhat--and Trish understood correctly. She leaned into him and kissed him, her lips parting in the same movement. Her kiss was wet, very wet, as she moaned and rubbed herself against him like a pussy in heat. Her hands were on his back, and he self-consciously felt his sweat, pooled underneath his shirt and jacket, clammy against his skin. To distract himself, he ran his own hands down her back, down to her ass, her incredibly tight ass, perky and round and soft and practically naked underneath her slip. "Jesus Christ, girl," he panted, breaking the kiss. "How do you get an ass like that?" Trish smiled, pressing her groin against his hipbone, as if she was trying to rub her clit to get herself off. She did not look him in the eye. "Cheerleading's great for the body." "A cheerleader? You are a bloody cheerleader? Seriously?" He looked her up and down--he had noticed that she was athletic and toned, but would not have guessed cheerleading. It was so... stereotypical. Blonde, hot, with long legs and big tits. Trish nodded. "I am. Since sophomore year." Lawrence pawed her ass some more, unable to get his mind off the feel of her flesh. "A bloody cheerleader! Complete with short skirt and tight top and shaking your ass for the pleasure of those American Football animals, I wager?" He slipped his hands underneath the thin string of what he imagined what her thong, pressing his sweaty palms against the impossibly soft flesh and running a finger up her ass crack. Trish shivered, and rubbed her crotch harder against his hipbone, practically humping him. "I do have a complete uniform that boys seem to like." Lawrence grinned. "I'm sure they do at that. Bloody hell--I've never had a real cheerleader! I watch you on the tube sometimes, you know, in your tight little outfits, those little skirts that rise up so easily, exposing your undies to everyone that cares to look. Do you like it when every man has his eyes on you, watching your big titties bounce around when you jump, waiting to get a peek under your skirt, imagining they're sliding between your legs and shoving their prick into your well-used fuck hole? Do you? Is it true what they say, that all cheerleaders are sluts that gives themselves up to all the players on the team? Is it? Are you a slut? Are you a blonde cheerleading slut?" Lawrence was sweating profusely now, between getting worked up at the image he was conjuring up in his own mind and the sensations of Trish rubbing her body against his, thrusting her big tits into his face. She was so warm, so soft, and the pressure of those big orbs against his skin was so tantalizing that he clenched his hands on her ass, pulling her forward against him and making her gasp. She ground herself against his crotch, looking at him in the eyes. "I can be as slutty as you want, Lawrence. I can be your blonde cheerleading slut tonight, if that's your wish. What do you want me to do? What fantasy do you have, Lawrence? What can this slutty blonde cheerleader do to make your dreams come true?" She still managed to look demure, he thought--wholesome, innocent, despite her words and despite the undulations of her hips against him. If it was an act, it was an incredible act. Maybe what the boy Scott said was true--she was going to obey his every wish? This was turning out so differently from his usual encounters that he was almost lost. Almost. "How about we start with a nice cheerleader blow job, like you give to your jock friends, huh?" Trish smiled. "Of course. One slutty blonde cheerleader blow job, coming right up." She sank to her knees, making sure her tits rubbed against him the whole way down. Lawrence groaned. "Too bad you don't have your uniform with you. I wager you must be sexy on your knees with your slutty cheerleading skirt running up your thighs," he said, as Trish unfastened his belt and pulled down his pants. She did not answer. Instead. she took his semi-hard prick in her hand and slurped it into her mouth. Lawrence clenched his hand in her long blonde hair. She did not give him any time to get used to the sensations, and started bobbing her head up and down forcefully, sucking him in deep and using her tongue and lips to great effect. The feel of her big tits bumping against his thighs as she sucked, of her hands on the back of his legs traveling up to his butt, of her forehead thumping against his flabby stomach as she bobbed down, all of it served to arouse his passion. It felt good, amazingly good. And incredibly, he felt his prick getting even harder. The girl was really phenomenal to get such a rise out of him. He did not remember ever being so erect without... without extra stimulation. He was maybe three-quarters stiff, and it was easy for the blonde cheerleader to take his whole prick in her mouth, which made it even better for Lawrence. Trish did a wondrous job on his prick, giving some of the best head he had ever received. She slurped, drooled, jacked his prick with one hand while the other wandered off to caress his balls or his butt. At some point she pulled down the top of her black slip and her big tits sprang free, and Lawrence freely pawed them, fascinated with the hard nipples. His initial excitement faded somewhat though, and after five minutes his three-quarters erect prick softened to half mast. Lawrence sighed, his frustration welling up for a moment deep inside him. Maybe tonight would not be so different than usual, then. Trish had let him slide out of her mouth, slowly jacking him off with a hand, a slightly puzzled look on her face. Lawrence had seen such a look before, many times, and he repressed a wave of frustration. She did not understand. She could not understand. It was okay. It was not her fault. And she was a cheerleader. A real bona fide cheerleader, and she was sucking him off. That had gotten him harder than he ever had without special help. She had done better than could be hoped for. He took a deep breath. "Get on the bed." Trish smiled up at him, still stroking his half-flaccid prick. "You gonna fuck your little cheerleader now?" The way she said that, her beautiful face framed by her blonde hair, her pink lips, the young unblemished skin, was surreal, and his prick jerked once. Lawrence watched her stand up and head towards the bed, which had not been made. He stepped out of his pants pooled around his ankles, and took off his jacket, which he folded on the back of the chair after pulling out from the right pocket a small switchblade knife and a pair of handcuffs, those items that he had gone out to grab from his car earlier. He took off his shirt and his tie, laying them over his jacket. Naked, he brushed his fingers along the long line of small parallel scars running up his right forearm like tiny notches on a bedpost. The feeling reassured him. He was loved. Tonight would go well after all. He watched Trish discard her shoes and pull her slip over her head, leaving her clad in a ridiculously small black thong that matched the slip. Without pausing, she slid the diminutive material down her long legs. Her ass was fantastic, looking as good as it had felt earlier. When she turned around, he saw the thin strip of blonde hair on her pussy, trimmed close. A pristine blonde cheerleader twat, he thought, and his prick jerked once again, although less than before. Time for some help. While she was climbing on the bed, on all fours, he quietly flicked the switch on the knife and the blade sprung out. Just as quietly, he ran it over his right forearm, adding another parallel line to those already there, this one turning a bright crimson as blood flowed out. He watched with calm, and he could feel his prick respond, hardening almost to full mast. He folded the knife and watched the blonde girl flip onto her back, her legs spread wide. She had not seen him. He had become good at camouflage. The sting in his arm kept sending pleasurable waves throughout his body. He was loved. Trish was softly running her hands up her thighs all the way to her pussy, looking at him with her mixture of innocence and flirtation. She eyed his erection, now standing up proudly, and smiled, licking her lips. "How about we play a game?" asked Lawrence. "A game?" "Yes, a game. How about, `slutty cheerleader has to submit to nasty coach to keep her place in the team?' " He lifted his handcuffs, half expecting the girl to bolt. She did not. Trish shivered--Lawrence saw her pussy pulse from where he was standing--and lifted her arms over her head, joined at the wrist. "Please, sir," she cooed, in a little girl's voice, "I really want to be on the team. You can have me if you want. Anytime. Anywhere. I'm a real good fuck." She shook her hips on the bed, slowly, mimicking coitus. Lawrence grinned and snapped her wrists together with the handcuffs, running the short chain through the headboard. He reached down to pick up Trish's thong from the floor, and inhaled deeply. The smell of her arousal hit him hard. He grunted. "You even smell like a slut. You can't wait to get your little cheerleading twat filled, can't you?" Trish undulated on the bed, spreading her legs even wider. Her eyes were on his, hungry. He had never seen a girl react like her before. The girls he paid were utterly unable to convey any real emotion. Not this girl. The sting on his arm throbbed, and his prick followed suit. "Can't have you bother your teammates with your cries of pleasure, can we? They'd know you put out to win a spot on the team. Here," and he presented the thong to her mouth. Trish knew what he wanted, and did not resist--in fact she opened her mouth wide to accept the material, which Lawrence pushed through deep enough to gag her, but not enough to impede her breathing. The thong was too wispy for that in any case. He scrambled between her spread legs, his prick softening slightly despite the vision of loveliness before him--a naked blonde cheerleader, legs open wide and exposing a ravishing snatch damp with moisture, tits defying gravity and begging to be pawed, a beautiful face looking at him with desire in her eyes. Switching out the blade of his knife, he nicked his right arm again, the delicious stab of pain quickly followed by another surge of blood which made his prick jerk and rise up at attention. He looked carefully at Trish--this was usually the time when a girl would panic, and when he would have to take more drastic steps--but she did not react in any way. She looked at the knife but did not show any hint of curiosity, even after he slashed his forearm. She twisted her hip upwards to try to move her snatch closer to his prick, and looked at him with desire still in her eyes. She moaned through the makeshift gag. With his renewed erection, Lawrence leaned over the blonde cheerleader and as if guided by an invisible hand his prick slid between the girl's slicked pussy lips and deep into her gash. He sunk in without any difficulty, the girl's lust sucking him in forcefully. While she could not wrap her arms around him because of the handcuffs, she hooked her legs in the back of his and using them as leverage press him harder inside of her, pushing her groin upwards in counterpoint. She moaned. Lawrence grunted--he was sinking his prick into molten lava. He was burning. The way she was clasping him down there, it was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He rocked back and forth a few times, overwhelmed by the sensations, and then let himself collapse on top of the cheerleader, his face coming to rest by one of her big fat tits that he grabbed with a hand and squeezed. He fucked her like that for a few minutes, grasping her tits, licking the side of her face, panting over her, while she twisted and bucked underneath him, trying to rub herself against him as much as possible. She came at some point, Lawrence was pretty sure, again a completely new experience for him. The prostitutes he had lain with before had never come. Predictably, he felt his erection grow slack, the novelty of having a pliant and hungry twat squeezing his prick fading. He faced up to the blonde cheerleader, his breath ragged, the exertion making his gasp. "I love you," he said, and she looked at him with an enigmatic look in her eyes, as if she did not understand, or did not care, but was happy he looked happy. "And I will show you how much I love you..." He lifted his knife to her face for her to see. The blade caught the light. Trish looked at the blade without reaction, before returning her eyes to him and pressing her groin against his. He put the edge of the blade against her cheek, pressing softly, and drew the knife down. A line appeared on her skin, filling in rapidly with deep red blood. Trish gasped, but did not move, except for shifting her hips and trying to drive his prick deeper into her. At the sight of his love for her, Lawrence grew hard again, and pushed into her with all of his weight. He felt her twat squeeze him rhythmically, a steady pulse of pleasure ripping through him. He pressed himself against the blonde cheerleader, his head beside hers, turning his face towards her untouched cheek. The feel of her big tits against his chest was amazing, the feel of her legs around his waist incredible, the feel of her twat squeezing him extraordinary. She was so beautiful. So lovable. Rutting into her, he raised the knife and softly but firmly ran it down the bridge of her nose, cutting through the soft skin. "I love you," he whispered. His prick stiffened at the renewed sight of her blood. Trish did not answer. She was shivering, her body gripped in the pleasure of doing what he wanted her to do. But a tear pearled at the corner of the eye that Lawrence could see. He raised himself up and looked deep into her eyes. Her body was reacting one way, squirming in pleasure against his, her pelvis thrusting up to rub her clit against the base of his prick deeply embedded into her, but her eyes--her eyes told a different story. Where he had seen love and lust and desire earlier he now saw fear--he saw the same fear that all the girls he had ever loved always displayed, the same terror, the same revulsion. He loved them, and they hated him back. He thought this one would be different--but she was not. Yet her body danced underneath his like she was. It was confusing. Lawrence followed the blood dripping from the two cuts on the girl's face, feeling his prick react, and feeling her twat react to his reaction. If he got rid of her look of terror, he could convince himself she was as she was before, willing and happy to receive his love. The thought of gouging out her eyes with the knife in his hand flashed unbidden in his mind, before he rejected it in a wave of disgust. It was a sickening thought--he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to assuage the nausea that had gripped him. Trish was still staring at him, while her hands caressed his back and her legs urged him to keep on fucking her. With an effort, he slid out of the girl and stood up. He went to the chair and grabbed his tie. Returning to the bed, he watched the blonde cheerleader whimpering on the bed while twisting her hips into another simulacrum of sex. He wrapped his tie around her head as a blindfold. He climbed back on the bed, and lay down between her legs to resume fucking her. She accepted him back inside her with a loud moan. Without her eyes looking at him in horror, he could bask in the astonishing feelings of mounting a girl that wanted to be mounted, whose body cried for his like his cried for hers--who loved him like he loved her. For he did love her, and he proved it to her repeatedly, sliding his knife over her face, her chest, her stomach, cutting the beautiful pale skin in crisscrossing patterns. He ran the blade over her breasts, dipping here and there, carving long lines that cried his love. Blood ran freely, pooling underneath her on the bed. He knew what he was doing; the cuts were not deep enough to kill her--he did not want her to die, he did not want anyone to die--but they would scar over like his own on his arms, a lasting tribute to his yearning and his passion. And throughout, he rutted deep into the blonde cheerleader, his prick pulsing with every incision, his excitement mounting with every kiss of the blade. Trish writhed with his every thrust, trying to pull him in close, pull him in deeper, pull him in harder. She was moaning through her gag, seeking his lips when his face leaned close, trying to kiss him but unable to do so correctly with her thong in her mouth. Her twat was milking him forcefully, as it spasmed and spasmed in a long continuous orgasm. When Lawrence felt he was approaching his own climax, as the pressure in his groin increased and he knew that he could not prevent his release even if he wanted to, he thrust deeply into the welcoming blonde, slid the blade of his knife over one of her hardened nipples, and pressed. As the fleshy nubbin split open, Trish stiffened and screamed in her gag--whether in pain or ecstasy Lawrence did not know and would not find out, because at that same instant he came hard, emptying himself into the cheerleader that had given him her body so freely. Trish clutched him, pulling her body up against his body, rubbing her face against his face, squeezing his butt cheeks with her hands. Lawrence knew, just knew, in his coital haze, that she would have been giving him a scorching mind-blowing soul kiss at that instant had she been able to. He collapsed on top of her, his body soaking in her slowly coagulating blood, catching his breath. He looked at her, coming down from her own high, her face smeared with red turning to brown. He wanted to run the knife over her perfect lips, to add to their perfection, but he was too drained for a second round. "I love you," he whispered, caressing her forehead and one of the many deep gashes he had drawn there as a token. Trish shivered at his words, and clutched him close, moaning. She seemed ready for a second round even if he was not. "It's true what they say about cheerleaders, then," he said with a slight chuckle. "They're insatiable." She was still writhing against him when he left the ruined bed. He looked at her, handcuffed to the headboard, blindfolded, gagged, body etched with love lines. She was rubbing her thighs together as though she needed to soothe a deep itch, moaning softly. She was beautiful. He pulled the covers of the bed out from underneath her, and wrapped them around her, leaving her head clear so she could breathe. Grabbing her discarded black slip from the floor, he wiped his body of the layer of blood he had acquired, then put his clothes back on. He had to forgo the tie, but it was an acceptable loss. He cleaned his knife and pocketed it. Searching through drawers, he found a tube of instant glue. Looking at the girl wrapped up in bed, still moaning with desire, he felt his prick twitch, and debated whether he did have the energy for a second round. He finally shook his head and left the room. Locking the door behind him, he squeezed half the tube of glue into the locking mechanism. Stopping by the restroom further down on the floor, he checked himself in the mirror, wiped a stray line of blood from his forehead, and tossed the key to Scott's room into the toilet before flushing. * * * Over at Daniel's apartment--the apartment he used to share with Jenn, she kept reminding herself--Cindy twirled the USB key that Radhu had given her between her fingers. She was frustrated. She was stuck at home, while the boys went to do their boy thing. She knew she was being unfair, knew the risks involved in trying to infiltrate the fraternity party, but knowledge did not make inactivity any easier to stomach. Perhaps she should have stayed with Radhu, helped him keep an eye on Daniel and Jackson from a distance. Perhaps... She eyed her phone on the coffee table. She was trying hard not to call Daniel every five minutes to check up on him. I'm acting like a mothering girlfriend, she thought, shaking her head at the situation she found herself in, not entirely displeased with it. Of course, she had to keep in mind that one of the reasons--if not the only reason--Daniel was at the fraternity party was to get his fiancee back. What if he did come back with her, what if he did get her out from under Biff's clutches? Cindy was torn. On the one hand, she wanted that for him. He and Jenn loved each other, and they were perfect for each other. On the other hand, were Jenn to come back, Cindy knew that she would lose Daniel, even though she did not really have him in any sense of the word, for he did not love her the way he loved Jenn. What's a girl to do? she wondered. She sighed, ever the pragmatic. We'll cross that bridge when we get there, won't we? She stared at the USB key. The data from the Delta Iota Kappa computers. Radhu had mentioned that some of the data was encrypted and he had not cracked the encryption yet. What better way to while away the time than by losing oneself in a difficult technical problem? Her cryptanalysis skills were pretty basic, but she had nothing else to do except sit and worry. She fired up Daniel's computer, inserted the USB key, and settled down to work. She kept her cell phone nearby, in case Daniel called. * * * Near the entrance hall of the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity, his back to the statue of a faceless woman bearing a Roman toga and carrying a covered basket, Daniel watched Jackson walk back towards him. From the look of anxiety in the young man's face, Daniel figured his search had been as fruitless as his own. Jackson confirmed it as soon as he was near. "Nothing." Daniel nodded. "Same here. No one's seen Jenn, Kyra, or Biff, or know of their whereabouts." Jackson stared at the statue for a second before turning around and facing the crowd, like Daniel was doing. The tone of the party had shifted somehow, early formality having been replaced by a relaxed bonhomie--for alums, ties had been loosened, shirt collars unbuttoned, jackets discarded, while the girls where even more demonstrative, pressing against them without being prompted, touching, kissing, often having half slipped out of their lingerie and presenting their bare chests to the men, who caressed and played with the proffered breasts freely, almost offhandedly. Even the brothers took advantage of the flesh on display and ran their hands over the girls' bodies. There were more women around as well, Daniel noticed, still dressed skimpily, although costumed, and he figured that those were dates and girlfriends and the likes. How they could justify to themselves what was happening to their fellow sisters was a bit of a mystery to him. "Something's off," said Jackson, out of the blue. "What do you mean?" "I'm not sure. Some of the guys are... nervous. On edge. Remind me a bit of a scrimmage line before the snap, you know? Especially when I asked about Biff." Daniel looked at Jackson, trying to understand what the young man was saying. "I noticed them reacting weird when I asked about Biff, but I thought that's just because he wasn't really liked..." "Well, that's true, he's not liked, but the reaction is usually either annoyance or apprehension. This time, it's more like... I don't know. That's the thing. I don't know what's going on. I don't think I like it." Daniel grunted. "I'm sure I like it even less." His eyes fell on a man coming down the stairs at the far end of the entrance hall. It was the man that Trish had called Lawrence, the pudgy man that she had left with earlier, the one whose money burned a hole in Daniel's shirt. The short man looked satisfied with himself, and Daniel grimaced at the thought of what he must have been doing to poor Trish upstairs. He should go and check that she was fine. His thoughts were interrupted by the front door of the fraternity house opening abruptly and a loud voice ringing over the background music. "Police! Quiet down! Who's in charge?" A police officer, her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun, face hard, stood in the entryway, hands on her hips. She looked fierce, despite her delicate latina features and her thin frame. Her eyes told much of the story, looking like they could snap you in two before you could do more than snicker at her stature. She let those same eyes range over the guests that had naturally formed a semicircle away from her. "I said, who's in charge here?" "That would be me, officer," said Kevin Cusker, stepping into the space around the police officer. "How can I help you?" "We've had reports of an unscheduled party with illegal activity, and I'm here to check it out." She let her eyes roam around the round once more, and Daniel picked up on a certain level of nervousness from the guests. With their masks, of course, their expressions were mostly unreadable, but their body language suggested they were getting ready to do something. What exactly was unclear. "Please, Officer...?" "Gonzales." "Please, Officer Gonzales, no need to be so harsh. I can assure you, as president of this fraternity," and at that point Kevin made a grand gesture encompassing the hall and the guests and the rest of the house, "that there is no illegal activity on the premises. At least, not yet. But your arrival is the prelude to your evening more interesting activities." He stepped towards Officer Gonzales and raised his hand, palm facing in. "Sonya," he said, his voice low, "I am your DIK brother." Officer Sonya Gonzales stiffened as her gaze shifted to the ring on Kevin's hand, and her forceful stance relaxed and her face softened. "Vivo para servir," she replied in a quiet voice. "I know you do," said Kevin. He leaned over and whispered something in her ear. She nodded in response, her face glowing. "Ladies and gentlemen," said Kevin, turning and addressing the guests. "I shall let Officer Sonya Gonzales, of the North Alexandria Police Force, have the honor of opening the second part of the evening festivities. Sonya, take it away." With a flourish, Kevin gestured, and the lights dimmed and a deep thrumming beat started up on the sound system. The guests immediately shushed as they watched Officer Sonya Gonzales, of the North Alexandria Police Force, start to sway her body to the music, bumping her hips and thrusting her chest out. The guests cheered when she undid her bun and her long black hair fell down over her shoulders, and cheered some more when she danced around the semicircle formed around her, unbuttoning her regulation blouse before tossing it towards a small group of costumed Delta Iota Kappa boys that shouted encouragements in response. Her flimsy bra went in a similar way, and soon the latina officer was clad in only her pants and boots, shaking a pair of breasts that seemed too large for her frame to the vocal delight of the frat boys surrounding her, and the tamer but no less appreciative looks of the older alumni. The women in the audience looked at her with a mixture of amusement and superiority, while the DIK girls paid her no mind, directing their attention and their affection to the guest they were with. Jackson elbowed Daniel. "Is she real?" "A real cop you mean?" "Yeah." Daniel shrugged. "I don't know. She looks real enough. I think I've seen her around. Cindy said that some of the police were in on the whole girl-programming thing, for protection most likely, and I guess one way to ensure their cooperation is to provide them with girls. Not sure if that's what's going on here, but hey, wouldn't put it past your brothers to do just that." He could not help the bitterness seep into his voice. Jackson was a big guy, he figured. He could take the implied criticism. Jackson did not respond, returning his attention to the half-naked police officer shaking her assets before an increasingly lively crowd. A big smile on her face, hands on her breasts pressing them upwards, she eyed one of the alumni and made a gesture to call him over. He looked surprised as she nodded, and he stepped into the circle after handing over his glass to a friend. He stood still as Officer Gonzales danced around him, and ended up pressing her back to his chest and moving her rear end to and fro, rubbing her ass against his crotch. The guests cheered when he finally reached over with his hands and grabbed her breasts, a move that seemed to delight the policewoman who rubbed her ass harder against him. In one smooth motion, she slid to the ground at the man's feet, and twisted onto her back to lift her feet to his chest. She mouthed something to him that Daniel did not catch from where he was standing, but the man unlaced the boots that Officer Gonzales was wearing and pulled them off her feet along with her socks. Meanwhile, Gonzales had unsnapped her pants and rather fetchingly slid them off partly by raising her ass off the ground, and the man pulled them off after discarding the boots. Clad in only a pair of thin panties, Officer Gonzales twisted her way back up and danced almost naked around the man and then around the group of guests cheering her on, thrusting her chest in the face of the ones closest to her, letting them grope for a second before moving on. Somewhere along the way her panties had managed to slide down her legs and were tossed into the crowd, and she was left completely naked, whirling to the music, pressing on and off against the man that was still left standing in the middle of the circle. When the music came to a close, Officer Gonzales jumped onto the man, and ground herself against him, kissing him deeply and passionately. They both collapsed down together, and she ended up on top of him, still kissing him hungrily, humping against him as he put his arms around her to press his hands against her ass. Kevin's voice rose up at that point, with the music picking up again and the lights turning a strange mixture of red and blue, "Ladies and Gentlemen, a big cheer for Officer Sonya Gonzales! She will be available the rest of the day for your pleasure. May I suggest you go find her if you have some issues with authority--she will do her best to address those." The crowd laughed at the joke, but Daniel could see many of the older alumni glance at each other. Kevin continued. "And now let the real party begin! Rooms are available for you upstairs if you want privacy, every other room down here also available. Our girls are now at your complete disposal, to do with as you please. I suggest you let them tell you what they can do, they can do so much more interestingly than I can. Ecstasy and viagra can be found at any of the bars, feel free to partake. Other drugs are on hand as well, just as our bartenders for what's available. Have a good time, folks!" Here we go, thought Daniel, watching the party devolve into an orgy right before his eyes. The guests, which had been snuggling up to the girls up until that point, all at once became more enterprising, seemingly feeling no restraint against diving in and grasping breasts and asses and pawing them and kissing them and running their hands all over the girls' bodies, stripping them. The girls, in turn, were rubbing the crotches of the guests more openly, sometimes even unbuttoning them and sliding their hands down pants. Fraternity brothers in bright costumes walked around and distributed pills to couples as well as drinks and other party favors, and everyone, including the girls that had arrived as dates or just as guests partook of the offerings. Somewhere in the middle of the crowd, Officer Sonya Gonzales was getting fucked, riding hard on top of the man she had singled out earlier. Daniel turned to Jackson, shaking his head. "This is turning out even worse than I thought. We're never gonna find them now." "I wouldn't be so sure," replied Jackson. There was barely controlled anger in his voice. He pointed to one end of the hallway. It took Daniel a few minutes before he saw what Jackson had seen. Recognizing Kyra was the tip-off. She was down on the floor on her hands and knees, a chain around her neck, dressed in the widely recognizable metallic gold bikini of Princess Leia. The chain was held by a tall and broad-shouldered man in a costume meant to represent Jabba the Hutt. Biff, recognized Daniel. Clinging to his arm was a tall slim girl with a perfectly toned and generously oiled body fully exposed by a tiny metallic blue bra and an indecently short metallic blue skirt and perched on precarious blue spike heels. Even though her face was hidden by an equally recognizable Bobba Fett helmet, every line of Jenn's body was seared into Daniel's brain. Daniel put a restraining arm on Jackson, who seemed ready to spring at the trio. "Calm down--not now. We know they're here, that's good. Let's just make sure we don't lose track of them, and wait until they're in a corner by themselves." He reassured himself that the taser was still hidden in his sash. Jackson made an effort to control himself. Daniel watched him carefully. He would not allow himself to give way to his own anger and he was not about to let Jackson give way to his. They stood by the statue, drinks in hand, trying to appear inconspicuous, as they watched Biff, flanked by Jenn and leading Kyra by her chain, slowly make their way up the hall. Once in a while, Biff would stop and talk to a brother, or to an alumnus, one arm protectively wrapped around Jenn. He let some of the men reach out and touch Jenn's chest, sometimes even parting the blue bra so they could paw a naked breast. Jenn would pose to present herself at her best, thrusting her chest out, inviting the attention and the touch. When they walked, Biff would often jerk on Kyra's chain to make her go faster, something that was clearly difficult for the crawling redhead. Eventually, evidently tired of the effort, Biff pulled her upright and allowed her walk behind him, although she still had the chain around her neck and she kept her head bowed. She was very popular with the fraternity brothers, who seemed delighted with her costume, and she was touched and pinched and kissed left and right, something that Biff clearly encouraged. Daniel heard Jackson gasp when a young man dressed up as Green Arrow approached Biff and the two girls and after a quick look around grabbed Kyra by the waist and pulled her to him for a deep kiss. "The fucking bastard..." growled Jackson, and Daniel had to pull him hard to keep him from bouncing out. "Jackson--calm down!" A few guests close to them eyed them curiously. In the distance, Green Arrow was talking to Biff, while Kyra was rubbing herself against the newcomer's leather clad body. Jenn was still clinging to Biff's arm, posing, but not otherwise engaged. "That fucking bastard!" repeated Jackson, his voice wavering, trying to escape Daniel's grasp. "Jackson! Fuck! Stop it! What's wrong with you?" Jackson was furious. "What do you mean what's wrong with me? Are you fucking blind? That... that piece of shit Brad's had his eye on Kyra since forever, and he lied to my face before--he wants her for himself, and I'm gonna bet my ass that that fucker Biff is going to let him have her! So I'm gonna go down there and fuck him up!" "Jesus, calm down! Do you want to help Kyra or not?" Jackson, overflowing with undirected anger, shook his arm free. "Look, man, I'm not like you, all cool and collected and shit, okay? Maybe you can take seeing your girl pawed like a fuckin' whore, but I can't, okay? I just can't!" Daniel slammed Jackson into the wall, which definitely got the attention of several more guests. "Listen to me!" he hissed. "I'm going to let that one go because I know exactly how you feel, how much it burns inside. But I also know that if we go down there, yeah, maybe we're going to get a few punches in, maybe we're going to take one of those guys down, but the rest of the gang are going to turn on us presto, and at the end of it all we'll have missed our chance of getting Jenn and Kyra out of here. And that's our only goal, you hear me? To get them out of here! Anything else is secondary--revenge, payback, anything. We get them out of here! Got it?" Jackson had struggled for the first half of Daniel's tirade, but was calmer by the end of it, holding Daniel's gaze uncomfortably. "Yeah... got it." He took a deep breath. "Sorry, it's just that..." Daniel nodded. He understood. But they had to stay focused. Once they got Jenn and Kyra out, they could decide the form their revenge would take. But until then, there was only one goal. Daniel glared at one of the guests who was staring at them, and the man, wearing a silver suit, looked away quickly. Turning his attention back to Jenn, he saw Biff and Brad talking to each other, their heads close together. Brad pointed, and Biff looked in that direction. Daniel tried to figure where they were looking, and all he could see was Kevin, surrounded by a group of guests that included the president of the university, James Calhoun. Brad, after a few more exchanges with Kevin and another long deep kiss with Kyra, left the small group and edged his way towards Kevin. Biff, followed by Jenn and Kyra, headed into the crowd of guests. Daniel nodded to Jackson, who had been following the action as well, and they trailed the trio. Biff was moving quickly through the crowd, with Jenn keeping pace easily with long strides, and Kyra struggling to keep up--why was not clear until Daniel was close enough to see the chain linking her ankles together. Biff yanked on Kyra's neck chain every few minutes to pull her forward, and Jackson growled every time that happened. The trio headed for the stairs, and Biff did not stop for anyone despite both guests and brothers casting admiring glances at the two girls with him and asking him if they could play with them too. Jenn smiled happily to every such request, while Kyra kept her head down and shuffled on trying not to trip. Daniel and Jackson followed them up the stairs. The trio made their way towards a quieter area in the back of the house that forced Daniel and Jackson to stay back further than Daniel would have wanted. Biff finally stopped before an arch, leaning over to say something to Jenn and Kyra. Daniel saw his chance. He told Jackson to keep an eye out for anyone coming in behind them, and then took out the taser from his sash after checking that the syringe was still in his inside pocket. Step one, incapacitate Biff. Step two, knock out Jenn and Kyra. Step three, leave. He wondered whether Radhu found the action exciting on his video feed. Keeping close to the wall, he approached the trio. Jenn and Kyra were a few feet away from Biff, who seemed to be concentrating on something as if he were getting mentally ready, Jenn having a hold of Kyra's chain and running her hand in the back of the redhead. The two girls walked into the archway, and disappeared. Daniel stepped closer. He wanted to be close enough that he could shoot the taser without missing, but not so close as to be seen. The taser had a range of maybe five yards. When he was four yards away, Daniel had his chance. He aimed the taser, and fired. Everything happened quickly, yet in slow motion. Daniel heard the shout a fraction of a second before pressing the trigger. "There he is!" rang a voice from behind him. Serena? He turned his head to see the black girl pointing at him while standing over a Jackson sprawled at the feet of a tall blonde man. Whether the shout distracted Daniel at just the wrong moment, or whether it warned Biff in time, the end effect was the same--Biff had turned around and the taser probes, rather than connect squarely into his back, merely glanced off his arm ineffectively. Biff wasted no time in reacting, taking a step towards Daniel and smacking the taser out of his hands. Daniel sent a fist in Biff's general direction, and it connected with the larger man's hardened stomach. Biff laughed the blow off and grabbed Daniel into a chokehold. "I was sorta waiting for Kevin, but you're an unexpected bonus. Still, we gotta take care of you before the cousin shows up. Guys!" he shouted towards the room where Jenn and Kyra had disappeared. Five large fraternity brothers came out and stopped short, looking at Biff wonderingly. He nodded towards the taser on the ground. "Get me that. Then grab Nils before he runs away." Daniel had no time to speculate over what was going on before Biff took the proffered taser and jammed it into his ribs, letting him go while he pressed the trigger. Daniel's world ignited and he collapsed to the ground, unable to control his limbs. And then everything went black.