A Fistful Of Sand Book 1Chapter 13: The Hunger free porn video

"Thank you Regent McKensie. I really owe you one."

"Don't thank me yet Gregg. I'm only buying you a little time. What you're proposing is either madness or genius, but you'll hail or hang on your own merits."

Gregg gulped. The enormity of the task at hand was sinking in now that the ESU regent who co-sponsored the archeological dig in Tunisia had given him the green light. The deadline was fast approaching for him to find a way to save the dig before it got bulldozed to become a resort hotel. Archeology rarely stood much of a chance when up against the almighty dollar, but the little analysis Gregg had managed to do going over photos and notes from the dig made him that much more desperate to save the site.

"Yes sir. Thank you sir. I'll try not to let you down."

"HA! Son, if you pull this off, you'll practically be signing your own tenure contract ... and you haven't even taught a class yet!"

The university regent hung up the phone and Gregg's gut tightened into a knot. The deal he just struck seemed almost Faustian: His plan to save the site depended on the site's ability to be "profitable." It was like selling his academic soul: research dependent on profit. It was not only the dig that hung in the balance — he was betting his career on this deal: succeed and be granted the academic trophy or fail and probably get fired for wasting the time, money, and resources of the university and its wealthiest benefactor. Gregg had never gambled before in his life ... and these were some long odds for his first roll of the dice.

'It's in motion now ... no choice left but to play the game... ' he though grimly as he pulled opened the.gif file of the pictorial mosaic that Heather had taken at the dig mere hours before he was struck by lightning. He had been staring at that particular set of photos for almost two days now. Chad jokingly referred to the mosaic as an ancient comic book, and in a way he was right. The tiles were sequential, telling a story about the rise and fall of a break-away Carthaginian sect. Based on all his research, everything seemed in order, at least on the surface. But his gut was telling him something was wrong.

Every time he stared at those pictures, he remembered that vision that crept into his consciousness during the party with E'dan and Rivkah. There was some connection between the military quashing of this depicted rebellion and the vision of himself (or rather himself seeing through the eyes of the high priest) building a harem of sex slaves. His memory of the vision was unbelievably clear, unlike his memory of the dreams he used to have with alarming frequency. Those often faded from memory soon after waking — which was why he kept a journal on his bedside table.

But it had been weeks since his last dream ... something about Heather and a man dressed in black. Heather often appeared in his dreams. They were like variations on a theme: He, or whoever he dreamed he was, was granted powers and Heather was his wife/girlfriend/lover. The only thing he remembered with clarity was that each of those dreams ended with his own untimely and often violent death. Similar stories, each just set in a different place and time.

The vision that currently haunted him, however, was as clear as a bell...

FLASH Gregg and small band of soldiers clad in the armor of the Carthaginian court marching their caravan east, toward Cairo. They see a small village ahead, women tending goats drawing water from one of the nearby wells.

FLASH Gregg sitting naked on a make-shift throne in his large tent. Half a dozen women clad in nearly transparent white robes lie at his feet, all recovering from intense orgasms.

FLASH The initiate kneeling before him, also in diaphanous white robes, pulls her mouth off his gigantic cock. Gregg is about to bless her with an orgasm as he did the others when she pulls back the robe's cowl. Her deep green eyes lock on his. One of his newest slaves screams from the floor. It was not a scream of pleasure...

Gregg shook his head. He'd lost count of the number of times these visions had flashed through is mind ... almost always when pouring over the artifacts and pictures from the dig. That was what spurred him to concoct his seemingly crazy plan to save the site, possibly risking his career in the process. He was glad Regent McKensie agreed over the phone. Gregg had sent him a very urgent email, hoping the man checked his school account even while on vacation. Luckily he did. Gregg was ready to drive out to Yellowstone and track him down and use his powers to convince him. Actually, that was his second plan. His first was to fly back out to Tunisia and "convince" everyone associated with the land deal to see his way, but Gregg had no idea who to contact. As he thought of all the potential players he'd have to bend to his will, that familiar headache started throbbing behind his eyes. 'No, better to convince one influential person and let him do what he does best, ' Gregg thought at the time. In the end, it wasn't special powers that convinced Regent McKensie ... it was his own passion.

Gregg was glad that, at least for the moment, this problem was off his chest. If anyone could buy him time, it was Regent McKensie. The man had made his fortune in international business, and Gregg's plan, simplistic as it was in its current form, had potential in his experienced eye. Now, he only had to pull a business proposal out of his ass.

The three piles of papers on his desk beckoned for his attention: One for course syllabi he had yet to complete; one for research/publication/presentation work yet to be done on findings from the dig (a pile that was always growing thanks to Chad's efforts); and the three volumes of his dissertation. That last pile scared him most of all. It was his dissertation research that led him to the dig site in Tunisia. He had been studying that very break away sect. It was artifacts found within his research that led to the eventual uncovering of the palace grounds he was working so hard to save. The core of his research involved the strange pseudo-sexual rituals the sect performed. The Carthaginians, before they were destroyed, were considered perverse for these rituals, but Gregg had shown that they never really happened. Now his dreams seemed to be painting a different picture.

Now Gregg had to face the possibility that if his dreams and visions were correct, then his research may have been totally flawed. But how does one publish results claiming that the leader of the sect was actually the Carthaginian high priest who was granted strange mind control powers and opted to build his own sexual empire? And more importantly, why did he leave? As evidence: a gut feeling and a dream? He'd be the laughing stock of his field.

But those concerns would have to wait. Since this morning, Gregg had been fighting down a growing sense of anxiety. It wasn't nervousness, and it wasn't fear ... the boner tenting his jeans was a more than clear indicator of what was on his mind. It took most of his concentration just to make it through his conversation with Regent McKensie. He had been planning his conversation for days, but it was hard to make cogent points when your dick was straining to burst from your slacks! The clock on his wall read 1pm, and for a moment he considered calling Heather at the admissions office to see if she wanted a "late lunch," but he remembered that on Fridays she had to give tours all day to visiting pre-froshes. There was no chance of getting her alone.

It started around 10am — as if a dial on his libido had been steadily cranking up, each passing minute Gregg could feel his sexual energy increasing. If he didn't find some relief soon he would burst. An idea sparked and as fast as he could type, he searched the campus online directory, his fingers dialing as soon as the number appeared.

"Omega Xi. How may I direct your call?"

"Laura ... please," Gregg said somewhat breathlessly.

"Which Laura, sir? We have two living in the house."

Gregg slammed the desk in frustration. He'd never gotten her last name. Then he remembered: "She's an officer there. Secretary I think."

Gregg could almost see the woman on the other end smiling. "Oh yes. I'll put you through." Gregg thought maybe he was being paranoid, but he imagined that the girl answering the phone was experienced with directing calls from desperate-sounding men.

"Hello, this is Laura."

"Laura, this is Dr. Walters."

Laura gasped, her hand trembling, the phone's earpiece rattling against her earring. She bolted out of her bed and quickly shut and locked the door to her room. She took a calming breath and finally answered in a nervous whisper. "D ... D ... Dr. Walters. I ... I didn't expect to hear from you. I hoped but I —"

"Have you been following my instructions?" Gregg interrupted. He was feeling positively evil. Just invoking the memory of her earlier humiliation was enough to have her in the palm of his hand.

The girl's gulp was audible. "Y ... Yes sir. Natalie's probationary period will be up this winter. I continue treating her like shit — harsher treatment than any other pledge. She takes it all, but stares at me with such contempt. Normally that'd be enough to kick her out, but you said not to. When she's not around I'm championing her, like you said. She'll go active, there's no doubt about it ... if she doesn't break first and tell everyone about that day in your office." There was a long pause. "Dr. Walters? How can you be sure she won't tell anyone? I intended to run for President this winter and by then she'll be a voting member. I'll be ruined if word got out about what we did ... There's a strict hierarchy —"

"Don't worry about that. Natalie wants to be an Omega Xi more than anything in the world. Nothing you do will break her." Gregg shook his head ruefully, not really understanding why anyone would put up with the hazing to join such a pretentious group of spoiled twits. "What happened that day will remain our secret as long as you continue to do as I say."

"Uh, continue to do?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes, Laura. Continue. You didn't think I was done with you, did you?"

Gregg could hear Laura start breathing heavier on the other end of the line. Despite her humiliation by him, she masturbated nearly every day to her memories of his treatment. "I ... I ... h ... hoped not..." she whispered.

"Good. Come to my office. Now."

Gregg was about to tell her to hurry but the line when dead.

Gregg shut down his computer and was putting away pictures from the dig when a knock at his office door caused him to look up. Standing in the doorway was Charli. She was wearing her signature black baggy jeans, black death metal t-shirt, black boots, and her straight black hair covering one side of her face.

"Hi Dr. Wal — er, Gregg."

Charli was actually surprised to see Gregg blush, not knowing that he didn't dare stand and reveal his massive hard on.

"Uh, Charli, hi ... What's up?"

"Oh nothing. I got out of class early and just wanted to see if you wanted to grab a bite before I meet with my study group. I know a place near campus that makes incredible gyros."

Under any other circumstances, Gregg would have said yes. He enjoyed spending time with Charli. She was like a kindred spirit — a loner, like he used to be. When he first met her, she could barely complete a sentence to his face, and now she not only had long conversations with him, it appeared that ... yes ... she was even wearing a little make-up today behind her curtain of hair. Gregg silently wished she didn't hide her face so much ... she really was quite cute.

It was clear that Gregg was having trouble keeping a rein on his powers when Charli tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing a glowing smile rather than the nervous one she used to sport. She still kept her gaze toward her feet, but when she looked up, her brown eyes shone like large liquid pools. She hugged her books closer to her chest and her weight shifted from foot to foot. Over the past weeks he had gotten considerable control over his libido and no longer feared being attacked in the quad by a horde of lust-crazed women. But today, he felt like he was a hair's breadth away from losing control ... and Charli never seemed more attractive. Gregg closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down. He had been growing hornier and hornier all day, and right now it took all his will not to shut the door and ravage Charli. If it weren't for the fact that Laura was on her way over, then Charli's virginity might have become his newest prize.

Gregg took a deep breath and shook his head. No ... not Charli ... not this way. "I'm sorry Charli, I ... I can't. Not today. I've got an appointment coming any minute and..." Gregg paused smiling at his unintended pun. " ... and I'm not feeling like myself right now." Charli's smile lessened somewhat and when she nodded in understanding, her hair started falling back in front of her disappointed face.

Gregg was about to try apologizing again, when he saw the laptop sticking out from her backpack. He had idea.

"You do web programming, right?"

The question caught her off guard. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"Would you be interested in helping me with a ... a grant application I'm working on? I think having an online component may be just what we need."

Charli could see he was avoiding any specifics, but she was curious. "Yeah, I maintain the web pages for a bunch of local bands."

"Good. Do me a favor, if you're interested. Give me a raincheck on lunch until Monday. Then, I'll buy lunch in exchange for you showing me some of your best work. Let me pick your brain, and if everything looks good, I'll see if I can find you something more interesting than doing Microsoft Office upgrades for your workstudy."

Charli beamed in pleasure. "Okay, it's a date! Uh, I mean ... sorry ... lunch."

She turned and happily started walking down the hall toward the stairs. Around the corner came running a long-legged blonde, ponytail swinging back and forth. She breezed right past Charli, seeming not to even notice her. But Charli noticed. It was that same bitchy sorority girl that had teased her those weeks ago. Charli watched in disbelief as she skidded to a halt in front of Gregg's office.

"I'm here! I got here as fast as I could!"

"Good. Close the door."

The heavy oak slab slammed shut. Charli thought about listening in, wondering why Gregg would have an "important" appointment with that skank. She wanted to listen, but she felt an irresistible urge to keep her distance. Seeing a small study nook down the hall, she checked her watch and decided that since she had time until her study group, she'd wait and see if she could learn what was going on...

"I'm here! I got here as fast as I could!"

Gregg looked up and given her flush face and her labored breathing, he could see that Laura had indeed run as fast as she could to heed his call. Her chest heaved as she tried catching her breath. The O and the X on her t-shirt rising and spreading above her perky little breasts.

"Good. Close the door."

The heavy oak door slammed shut, its resounding echo filling the room. Gregg closed his eyes and sent an unsubtle and forceful command to anyone nearby to avoid his office. He imagined the command like an inflated bubble and to his relief felt it remain in place, like invisible sphere of mental energy guiding would-be listeners or just passers-by away from his door.

Laura stood in front of his desk, not even daring to consider taking a seat without his permission. For long seconds Gregg stared at her intently. She felt like an ant under a magnifying glass, intently scrutinized, and only a whim away from being fried.

"You made it here quickly. That's good." Laura smiled, relief flooding her face, excitement beginning to build between her legs. Gregg was lacing his every word with tiny stabs of sexual pleasure and desire, wanting her to drip with need at the very sound of his voice. "When was your sorority founded?"

While not exactly a question she expected, the answer was thoroughly drilled into her head during her probationary period.

"April 15, 1992."

"Are there other chapters?"

"No — we're the only one."

"Tell me, how can your little friend Natalie still be a pledge during the summer? I thought Greek rush was when school started."

Laura was taken off guard by the question. No one in the sorority talked about sorority business outside of Omega Xi. But her loyalty to OX was fighting a losing battle waged by the throbbing need coming from her clit.

"We don't take pledges in the fall like everyone else. We wait until those wanting a lesser sorority are weeded out. Only those who have enough confidence to skip the regular Greek rush that begins in September are considered."

"Still, that means she's been a pledge for nearly eight months now."

Laura's legs rubbed against one another, her need nearly beyond her ability to control. Gregg watched with amusement. Really, all he needed was a white Persian cat to stroke and his self-image as an evil mastermind would be complete. "We're the best of the best." Her tone still hinted at the obviousness of that statement. Knowing how little regard Dr. Walters seemed to have for that fact, she wisely opted to soften her tone. "I mean ... we demand a lot from our pledges. They must prove their loyalty and ... and skills ... over the course of a year. Only a dozen or so ever become fully active each year."

Gregg was intrigued. He wanted to know more, but right now he had more immediate demands. Gregg stood and, with an unspoken mental command, Laura dropped to her knees beside the big grey desk. He stood before her and with another mental push, she immediately unbuckled his belt and undid his pants, pulling them down to his knees. Laura didn't question how or why she did these things. It was just what she knew was expected of her.

Freed at last from its cotton prison, Gregg's massive cock sprang forth, hard as iron, throbbing with need. Laura held it firmly in one hand, her mouth descending on the tip with the hunger of sexual starvation. Her lips stretched wide to accommodate his girth and without prompting, she began bobbing her head up and down his length as deeply as she could. It was frustrating that she would gag with only half of his length in her mouth, despite her desperate desire. She remembered with painful clarity that Natalie, the OX pledge she was commanded by Dr. Walters to simultaneously abuse and champion easily sucked this huge cock all the way to the base. It galled her to no end that she was bested by a mere pledge, or 'plebe' as she called her. The only consolation to her humiliation was the groans of pleasure coming from the man she was so desperately trying to please. That little bit of encouragement was all she needed to use every technique she could think of in her desire-ridden brain to summon forth her reward of his manly cream.

Gregg was as turned on by Laura's incredible mouth work as he was by the thoughts swimming through her mind. He remembered that when she last sucked his dick, he made sure he made no overt display of his pleasure, heightening her humiliation. Now her every thought was directed at pleasing him. Her own desires were secondary to fulfilling his wishes.

FLASH Gregg sitting naked on a make-shift throne in his large tent. Half a dozen women clad in nearly transparent white robes lie at his feet, all recovering from intense orgasms.

The memory of his vision filled him with a sense of power. Laura was his. Her pleasure and pain were his to command. If she pleased him she would be rewarded. If she failed him, she would be driven crazy by her own unfulfilled lust. Destiny knelt at his feet. Destiny sucked his cock. Destiny was his to command.

Gregg's own power-wrought lust was building to its bursting point. His knowledge of the power he held over the once high and mighty blonde fueling his passion as surely as her sucking mouth and lashing tongue. He grabbed her head in both hands, holding her face steady as he thrust his cock in and out of her mouth. He wasn't gentle, but he at least didn't thrust too deeply. He had no intention of suppressing her gag reflex, nor did he have any intention of cleaning a pile of vomit off the floor.

Laura had sucked enough dicks in her life to know Dr. Walters was nearing release. She sucked as hard as she could, her tongue pressed tightly against the underside of his thrusting meat. Any second now she would receive her prize: he would cum in her mouth and then he would give her the fucking she so desperately desired — the intense fucking she was forced to watch him give Natalie, yet was denied her.

Gregg's hips became a blur, Laura's mouth practically sucking his seed from his nuts. With a growl, Gregg's fingers tightened against her skull. He pulled back so that just the tip of his cock remained locked inside her suctioning mouth. His knees threatened to collapse and his ass clenched and his sperm shot into Laura's waiting oral cavity. Laura was ready, her tongue blocking the back of her throat so that she could catch every drop. What she wasn't ready for was the sheer volume of cum that flooded into her mouth. With each tremendous spurt, Laura feared that she wouldn't be able to take it all.

At last, after more than a half-dozen spurts, the huge cock stopped cumming, and was pulled free from her gripping lips. Gregg leaned against his desk, his legs unable to support him. Laura tilted her head back and opened her lips a bit, showing Gregg the pool of semen she had caught. She made a production of playing with the white liquid with her tongue, then swallowing and opening her mouth again, showing Gregg how she hadn't missed a drop. Her tongue scraped along her teeth and lips, making sure she accounted for every last bit.

Gregg laughed at the ridiculous, and yet surprisingly sexy, display. He patted her on the head as he would a dog and said "Good." He punctuated his praise by triggering a small, but significant, orgasm that caused her grab her crotch in surprise and then collapse against Gregg's leg.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," she mumbled into his thigh, not questioning the odd timing of her release. It only mattered that she pleased him and that with his pleasure, she found her own.

Gregg stepped free from her, and she sat back on her haunches, panting, eagerly waiting to be taken again. He pulled up his pants and sat back behind his desk. Laura stared at him, her lust evident on her face. "I ... Aren't you ... Don't you want to fuck me now?" she asked, tears and desperation in her eyes.

Gregg sat back in his chair, pleased that she hadn't even attempted to stand. "No. I don't fuck girls that disgust me."

Laura winced at his verbal lash, yet squirmed in pleasure as his words triggered a spasm in her clit. "But ... but you fucked Natalie. You called me and I came over..." Instantly she regretted questioning his authority.

Gregg leaned forward, rolling his chair around to the side of his desk so he sat directly in front of her. She cast her eyes immediately to the floor, not sure if he'd be angry for talking out of turn. In the back of her mind, her submissiveness to this man was completely at odds with the strong dominant personality she had carefully cultivated in her three years as an Omega Xi.

Gregg lifted her chin with his hand so she was forced to look directly at him. "I fucked Natalie to teach you a lesson. You BOTH disgust me." Laura closed her eyes and a tear escaped one, running down her cheek, dripping onto his palm. She forced them open, determined to face whatever he had to say ... not that she had a choice. "You think you're better than everyone else because you wear those letters. But you're not. Natalie thinks that the rewards she'll get by wearing those letters outweigh any consideration of how she should treat her fellow humans ... and you encourage that. But looks fade and reputation fades even quicker. I'm just treating you like you treat everybody else. I hope that's sinking in. You look in the mirror and see a hot babe. I look at you and Natalie and see what's printed on your t-shirts: O-X. How appropriate. An ox. That's all you are — dumb cud-chewing oxen."

Laura was trembling with both shame and lust. Tears ran freely from both eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry Dr. Walters. Please! I'll do anything!"

"I know you will. You'll do anything and everything I say. Just like an ox you'll follow where ever I lead. If I said 'lick my shoe, ' I'd expect you on your belly." Laura nodded her head vigorously, not aware that Gregg's words held more truth than she could imagine. If her chin weren't currently in his firm grip, she would have dropped to the floor, tongue-polishing his footwear. "I might yet fuck you. Maybe. If you apologize for your behavior."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she cried, knowing his forgiveness was all that stood between her and sexual fulfillment.

"You're apologizing to the wrong person! Do you even remember why I called you into my office that first time?"

"Y ... yes. I ... we ... insulted that girl..."

"That girl has a name!" he shouted, painfully squeezing her chin. Laura flinched in fear. Gregg took a calming breath. "Charli. Her name is Charli and you're just a worm compared to her. If I were you, I'd make things right with her ... both of you. Be nice to her and maybe ... well, let's just say it'd be a good start." Gregg dropped her chin and rolled back behind his desk. He turned on his computer again, having regained some clarity of mind with his sexual release. Not even looking in her direction, he said, "Get out. I have some phone calls to make."

Laura stood on shaky legs, still weak from the aftermath of her small orgasm and the intense desire fueled by his continuing humiliation and her deep shame. She opened the door and looked back, but Dr. Walters was intently looking at his computer screen, not a glance in her direction. With that, she slipped out, letting the door close quietly behind her.

Charli watched from the yellow padded office furniture in the hallway corner. She hid her face behind an old copy of the Chronicle of Higher Education that was lying on the table beside her when Gregg's office door opened. Slowly the blonde sorority girl emerged, looking very shaken. It was a bit far to see, but Charli was pretty sure that the girl had been crying. Charli watched as the blonde stood in front of the closed door for several seconds with her head down, her hand covering her eyes. She paced back and forth a few times, wiping her tear-stained cheek: every inch a woman upset.

Finally the blonde pulled out a cell phone from her pocket and dialed a number.

"Yeah, it's Laura. Is Natalie there? ... No? ... Well where is she? ... I don't care! Find her and have her call me immediately. IMMEDIATELY! Do you understand?" Laura snapped her phone shut angrily and stalked off. Charli hid even deeper behind the paper, as the blonde ('Laura ... that's what she said her name was') stalked passed her, muttering under her breath, "If I was her, where would I hang out ... have to find her ... have to find her..."

Charli was more confused than ever. Laura couldn't have been in Gregg's office for more than ten minutes, but in that time she had been reduced to a teary mess. 'Well, I guess anything that makes that bitch suffer, makes me happy, ' she thought. She gave one more glance down toward Gregg's office and her face broke out in a huge smile. Monday's lunch couldn't come fast enough. In the meantime, she had a study group to attend and then some websites to polish.

A half hour later, Gregg was shutting down his computer again, this time ready to head home ... well, Heather's home. He spent every night and most evenings at her place now — his own apartment served as not much more than storage for clothes and books. His moment of calm following his domination of Laura was quickly dissipating and the sexual hunger that had him on edge all afternoon had nearly regained full strength. His hopes for at least getting more course work done had quickly vanished. At this point it was probably better to wait for Heather at her place than kid himself into thinking he'd get anything more accomplished.

Just when he thought he was free of his office, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Gregg shouted a little irritably.

A smallish man wearing a black trench coat leaned heavily against the solid door, propped open with a small piece of wood between the heavy oak slab and the frame. With a grunt he managed to get it open enough to slip inside and then let it close with a loud thunk against the improvised doorstop.

"Excuse me, are you Dr. Walters?"

"That's me. How can I help you?"

"I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?" Gregg shook his head slightly, choosing civility over his more pressing urges. "No? Good. I won't take but a minute of your time. I can tell you're anxious to leave. I'm interested in sitting in on some of your classes."

"Uh, okay. Um, have a seat." Gregg indicated one of the empty chairs opposite his desk near the small round table in the corner. "I didn't catch your name..."