Satan's Sisters, Lesbian b**m

Chapter One-2

Up from the waist, over the shoulders, and back down, she looped that rope like she had been doing human macramé for years. She did some kind of cross your heart bra thing with my t**s, wrapping them up separately in tourniquets of rope so that they stuck out like grapefruits.

The elbows were next, cinched together until they almost touched. I was forced to puff out my chest like some jailbait twit showing off her first training bra.

She tied my ankles together and stood back to admire her work. I looked down to confirm my suspicion that the knot over my clit was sopping. This was a whole new thing going on with me. Satisfied with her creation, she put one finger against my chest and tipped me over onto the bed.

I thought that maybe she was all done with me now. She would leave me here and go study or call up one of her nerdy acolytes to entertain him with a full report. Phone s*x was real big with those losers, and she would have him searching around for his d**k in no time. “Guess what she’s wearing,” she would whisper hoarsely. Then she would use that evil chuckle that always got them hard. “Not even close. All she has on is a hundred feet of rope. Yes—way!”

That didn’t happen. Instead she finished making me uncomfortable and helpless to the max with the old classic hog-tie, bending back my legs until my fingertips touched my heels and my spine was a bow.

It was a very long night. Leaving me alone turned out to be the last thing on her mind. Now that I couldn’t defend myself, she tried out every radical thing she could think of. First it was a feather. She knew how ticklish I was. Just the sight of the damn thing had me screaming most dire threats into the pantyhose. She ignored all that, and trailed the feather over my ribs and belly until I was literally crying.

You probably think that a dorm room is hardly the dungeon of the inquisition, and there isn’t much she could do to hurt me when she had no plans to do like actual harm. All I can say is, try squirming around on the bed while somebody blindfolds you and runs ice cubes over your n*****s.

The switchblade got into the act, too. By the time I felt the point scratching circles around my butt cheeks, I was convinced that Heather had finally gone homicidal and they would find me in a dumpster tomorrow with her initials carved in my ass.

So when she took out the gag, I was only too happy to tell her anything she wanted to hear.

“Who’s the most awesome goddess?” she prompted.

“Heather!” I sobbed.

“Who’s a grody c*m sucking slut?”

“I am!”

“Say it!”

“I’m a grody c*m sucking slut!”

Sure, after she cut me loose, I should have reported her or something, or at least moved to another dorm room. I was an absolute wreck by then, and she had to stroke my head and talk to me for a long time before I stopped shaking. There was something about the whole trip that got to me though. Maybe it’s what those old Greek dudes called catharsis. I was way relaxed the next morning, like I had been f*****g all night or something. Instead of going ballistic with Heather, I started to hang even closer to her, like I was her puppy. Go figure.

All I know is, when she whipped out a roll of duct tape a week later, I started stripping without being told. She used two rolls of tape. When she was done, she held up a mirror and laughed at her silver mummy. Wearing it was bad enough, that stuff gets really itchy after awhile, but the awful part came when she ripped it off. After that, I kept my beaver shaved in self defense.

***

So spring term came and I signed up for Dr. Cornell’s class.

First day I came early and grabbed a seat in the front row, ready for a quick kill in my leather mini and no panties. Flashing a prof is the easiest way to get his attention. After that, all I had to do was see him after class and ask to meet him in his office for a consultation.

Then Dr. Cornell came in and all my well laid plans were toast. It was Valkyrie time. She was taller than any woman I’ve ever seen, but she was still wearing heels. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. There were more tight buns under her “Don’t f**k with me” suit. She was rocket body gorgeous, and couldn’t hide it no matter how hard she tried.

There was something about her though. Maybe it was those deep gray eyes that seemed so grave and sure, like they had seen things that would give me bad dreams if I knew about them. Maybe it was the cynical way her mouth curled up at the corners.

I took one look at her and crossed my legs.

She headed right for me though, and for a minute, when I saw this sss bending down to hand me a stack of papers, I felt small and scared.

“Hand these around for me would you...?”

It took me awhile to understand that she was waiting for my name, and another second to overcome an irrational fear of giving it to her; as though I might be giving up a part of myself.

“Chrissy,” I said.

She repeated the name, wrapping a really evil smile around it.

As I passed out the course outlines she explained what was in it. I could feel her eyes on me, and right then I would have traded in my slut rags for a pair of brown duck coveralls.

When I sat down, I crossed my legs again, but when I looked up and saw Dr. Cornell smiling at me I knew that she had seen a quick glimpse of the gates of heaven. Gag me! She was a lez!

She started her lecture then, telling us that the course would focus on fifteenth century Spain. While she was talking, her eyes kept drifting over to me. She locked on to my return stare as her hand rested on her desk with her fingers crossed. She uncrossed her fingers and spread them wide, nodding to me. No one else noticed. They were all scribbling notes.

She wanted me to open my legs.

I didn’t think that anyone could make me blush anymore. I did what she wanted. I’m gutless sometimes. I still wanted that “A”, and suspected that giving her a show was just a small down p*****t. No- that’s bullshit, I wanted to please her, even then.

Later, I forgot and crossed my legs again. She flashed me a yellow alert with her eyes and I got back into the position she wanted. Both feet stayed on the floor after that.

When class was over I was tensed like a sprinter, ready to do a Lamont Cranston and fade into the crowd, but she stopped me, calling out my name loud enough so that there was no way I could pretend not to hear her.

“Stay after a bit, would you?”

So I stood in front of her desk, watching her eyes peel me out of my skirt and do rude things to me, until the last student was gone.

“Are you on your way to another class right now?” she asked.

“No,” I admitted. I should have said that I was, but I already sensed that lying to her would be a lame idea. Anyway, I wouldn’t be able to avoid her forever.

She took her coat off the back of her chair, giving me a good look at the way her boobs strained at her blouse when she put it on. “I think that we should continue this conference in my office.”

I followed her down the corridor to her office. The heels made her butt sway. I think she worked that a little for my benefit, putting one foot in front of the other like runway models do. I already knew that the offices were designed for maximum privacy, with no window to the corridor and no glass in the door. It was a fact that I had taken advantage of many times before. Balling a co-ed in the office is like a peak fantasy for a lot of profs.

There was only one chair. Dr. Cornell poured herself a cup of coffee and settled into it, staring up at me over the rim as she sipped.

“You’re one of those girls who trades s*x for grades,” she said. It wasn’t a question. She was like telling me that she already had me all psyched out.

I just nodded.

“What grade are you expecting from this class?”

There was really only one way to answer a question like that. I made a complete confession. Something told me that lying to her would be totally dumb. I told her about my bet with Heather, and what it would cost me to lose.

I had never done any lezzie stuff before, except for the Houdini thing with Heather, which doesn’t really count; because we never had actual s*x. Even though Dr. Cornell gave me the squirming fits, I hinted that I was ready to be coaxed into bed with her if it would get me the grade I wanted.

She wasn’t letting me get away with any of that. “Are you offering me your body for s*x?” She added a smirk to let me know that she wasn’t exactly horrified by the idea.

I blushed. I had done a lot of profs, but none of them had ever been so out there with everything. Usually they played the whole game, pretending to be in love so that they wouldn’t feel so guilty about doing me.

“I guess I am,” I murmured.

“Let me see what you have to offer.”

I put a hand up to my blouse, “You mean…?”

“I mean strip,” her voice was firm. “I want to see what we are bargaining for.”

I couldn’t look at her as I unbuttoned my blouse. At Heather’s urging, I had gone out sans bra that day. She told me that the n****e bumps would get attention even if the mini skirt didn’t. I was already getting the news flash that the whole thing had been a set up. I could feel Dr. Cornell’s eyes burning holes through me as I draped my blouse over the desktop.

“Don’t cover yourself,” she snapped, as I started to raise my arms. “Put your hands on top of your head. That’s better. Elbows back.”

My n*****s were starting to crinkle up and get hard. I told myself that it was just cold in the office. I couldn’t be getting turned on by the imperious way she was ordering me to show her my t**s.

“Very nice,” she purred. “Now the skirt. Turn around first.”

I was surprised by that. I figured that a carpet muncher like her would want to see my puss. Maybe she was saving it for last. My skirt was tight. As I bent over and started to slither it over my hips, She stood up and set her cup down. Alarmed, I threw a glance over my shoulder, just in time to see her run her tongue quickly over her lips. I faced forward again, trembling as she ran a fingernail over the dimples above my butt cheeks and let it trail down the crack of my ass.

I let go of my skirt and let it drop, kicking off my shoes as I stepped out of it. Showing my ass was humiliating enough. I wasn’t going to stand there in just my Nikes. Dr. Cornell sighed. I could feel her breath on my neck.

“Are you wet?”

I was, but I wasn’t going to say so. “I dunno.” I sounded like a little girl who can’t explain the open cookie jar and the crumbs on her chin.

“Turn around.”

When I turned, she snaked a hand between my thighs and dipped a finger into my slit. I started to close my legs, but the look in her eyes stopped me.

“Spread.” There was a warning in her voice.

I spread, pissed at myself for being so totally easy. Her hand dallied in the valley, until I could feel my clit starting to swell.