Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 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.org.

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

   Thanks to ASSTR, I also have a website at /~foxbat/
where you can find all of my work.  This is also available via ftp at
ftp.asstr.org/pub/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 through 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, slowly, deliberately.  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, wait,
compliance.





   Continued...





   Writing fantasy is like nailing a bird's 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 indefinite 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