A Fistful Of Sand Book 1Chapter 19: Phoenix free porn video

The room looked oddly familiar. She'd dreamt this place before.

'Strange, ' Laura thought. 'Why aren't I afraid?'

Laura stepped up to the wall of the crystal sphere that was currently holding her prisoner. Maybe not a pure sphere ... It seemed to grow organically from the floor, perhaps ten paces in diameter, doming over her head almost to the ceiling. Her reflection distorted and refracted in the sharp edges where seemingly random shapes met to form its solid wall. Through the surface she could see stacks of boxes and file cabinets. 'The archives again.' The room was getting colder and she was starting to see her breath. The thought she knew to be true, that she clung to like a lifeline to her sanity: 'This is only a dream.'

"If it's only a dream, then wake up." Laura lifted her gaze and saw herself closing the door to the archives behind her. It was an almost perfect mirror image of herself. The only difference was that while she inside the prison wore pure white robes, much like Omega Xi pledges during their initiation ceremony, her doppelganger wore the golden robes of the sorority's highest office ... the office she was working to win at elections at the end of the semester ... the office currently held by Brittany Anderson. "Come on Laura, wake up and escape!" From inside, Laura pounded on the crystalline wall, to little effect. "No? Hmm ... maybe if I sprinkle you with fairy dust and you think happy happy thoughts, you'll fly away — second star to the right and straight on 'til morning and all that shit!"

The Laura outside the sphere grinned wickedly, tapping the all too solid prison with the presidential ceremonial staff. "No. Sorry, it doesn't work that way. You're not leaving just yet. You and I have some things to discuss. For starters ... why do you even exist? Why are you here? I was doing just fine until you came along. I'd put up with all of Brittany's crap, and I was well on my way to becoming president myself! But no! You had to show up and let THAT asshole in."

"Don't call Master that."

"Don't call Master that!" the free Laura repeated in mocking tones. "MASTER? FUCK YOU! I don't have a master! I am the master! Not some piece of shit man!" The Laura outside the sphere was practically frothing at the mouth. "Look at the mess you've made! You let your feelings for some little shit goth nerd stand in the way of my plans. And for what? So you can get me raped? So you can give Brittany and Natalie fuel to burn me with? Honestly you disgust me." The outside Laura closed her eyes and the temperature inside the sphere dropped even further. The trapped Laura shivered and watched as her crystal prison began to frost over, obscuring the vision of herself on the outside.

"It's over you pathetic excuse for a human. This is MY body and MY mind and I'm taking it back. Once you're on ice, I'll deal with your 'friends.'"

"You leave them alone!"

The outer Laura didn't seem to hear. "I'll bet the world wouldn't miss him if he suddenly disappeared. I better call in a few favors with some ... less than reputable former clients..."

"NOOO!!" Laura ran full speed at the frosted crystal wall in front of her. As she crashed through, rough glass shards sliced deeply into her flesh, tearing skin, breaking bone. So deep was her rage, that she didn't feel a thing. The gold-robed Laura looked astonished, perhaps even a little afraid.

Picking up one of the broken shards on the ground in a bloodied hand, she charged at her nemesis, heedless of the fresh cut it was making deep into her palm.

"No you fool! You'll kill us both!"

"I'LL DIE BEFORE I LET YOU HURT HIM!!" Mindless with rage, she charged ahead, the crystal shard piercing the other Laura's chest with a sickening thunk — a growing red stain coloring her once golden robes. The impaled Laura gaped at her former prisoner, her mouth moving wordlessly. A trickle of blood spilled from the corner of her mouth.

Stunned at her own action, the white-clad Laura backed away from the other Laura. She looked down at her own chest and watched as a similar pool of red began spreading across the front of her own once white robes. Backing up toward the door of the archives, she leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor, leaving a bloody smear against the wall. 'Cold, ' she thought. 'So cold... '

A small smile appeared on her face. 'Maybe death isn't so bad ... what did I have to live for anyway? At least I saved them ... from myself... '

Suddenly the door beside her opened, letting in a brilliant white light. A soft feminine hand reached out and gripped her by the arm. Warmth flooded into her body and everything went white.

Laura gasped. It felt like it was the first breath she'd taken in hours. Her heart beat a mile a minute and she tried to remember where she was. Last night she came to Gregg's apartment and after a lot of crying, she and Charli and Chad talked. And talked, and talked, and talked. It was very late when they went to bed. She was about to leave, but Charli insisted she stay. Chad volunteered to sleep on the couch.

She bent her legs and felt that she had slept in the jeans she arrived in. In front of her, Charli slept above the covers, also wearing last night's clothes. When she attempted to roll out of bed, she felt a tug on her arm. A tear escaped her eye when she saw Charli's hand holding her arm tightly.

Laura instinctively felt at her chest. No blood ... it was only a dream.

Rolling back into bed, Laura pried Charli's hand off her arm and held it in her own hands. Charli frowned in her sleep, clearly battling her own demons. Bringing Charli's hand up to her lips, Laura kissed her fingertips lightly, lovingly.

She closed her eyes once again, no longer afraid of what dreams may come.

"Good morning Miss Anderson. Forgive me for being so blunt, but you look terrible!" To an untrained eye, the comment Gregg just made would have seemed laughable. But Gregg was fast becoming an expert on all things Omega Xi.

Brittany Anderson, president and most feared/respected member of the elite sorority on campus sat uneasily in the chair opposite Gregg's office desk. That she was uneasy was the first sign that Gregg wasn't crazy. The almost imperceptible bags under her eyes covered by just a bit too much makeup was the second. Her slightly wobbly gait when she walked into his office at 10am exactly was a third.

If she'd had her way, she would still be in bed. Even without setting an alarm, her mind was sharply awake around nine, giving her plenty of time to clean up the mess that was her face and body. Her first order of business was to shower. Somehow she'd gotten home last night, but too exhausted to shower, she just crawled into bed, completely uncaring that she was caked in sweat and other ... fluids. For some reason, the idea of skipping her meeting with Dr. Walters caused to break out in a cold sweat.

The man sitting so comfortably, so confidently behind his desk inspired both fear and lust. Her muscles still ached at the unbelievable fucking she endured the night before. So painful, and yet pleasurable beyond comprehension. Much of the night was a haze. She remembered bits and pieces. For example, while she had no idea how she got home, she clearly remembered some faceless redhead doing ... unspeakable ... things to her.

Gregg folded his hands on the desk, basking in Brittany's discomfort. Unlike the beauty across from him, Gregg felt truly alive and fresh. Maybe it was the knowledge of what he was about to unleash on this woman who had caused his friends such grievous harm. Sitting in the windowless office, the picture of detached rationality, Gregg was reminded of the interrogation scene from "The Matrix" which Charli had forced him to watch last week. He knew he was supposed to sympathize with the hero, but right now he felt like an all-powerful Agent Smith! All he was missing was an ear-piece and some dark glasses.

"I want to thank you for a truly ... enjoyable evening Miss Andrews. I learned so much from you ... about you. What about you? Do you feel it was a productive use of your time?"

Brittany was in no mood to be fucked around with. True she had never experienced the peaks of pleasure Dr. Walters brought out in her, but her purpose for being there was not for her own enjoyment ... especially not for HIS. It was time to wipe that smug smile off his face. She was perhaps showing her cards too early, not yet having reviewed her hidden camera footage, but she felt confident she had more than enough material with which to blackmail him.

"Yes, Dr. Walters. I think I learned a lot. I know that you're a sick fuck who's willing to trade sex for grades. I'm sure the administration will love to talk to you about it."

Brittany's accusation was usually the cue for her victim to start weeping, stuttering, and bargaining. But Dr. Walters just sat there smiling, unfazed, fingers still calmly laced on the desktop.

"I don't think you fully appreciate how much trouble you're in Dr. Walters. I have video evidence of you raping me. We'll call it rape since you as a teacher are in a position of power ... and I'm just a poor, innocent student who was taken advantage of..." Her performance was truly Oscar-worthy.

To her shock, Gregg's grin only broadened. Rather than taking her bait, he simply turned his computer monitor around and pressed 'Play' on his media player. Like a sick highlights reel, Brittany was treated to digital video of herself from last night, featuring her unintended vocalizations ("yesss...", "fuck me...", etc., ) as well as the look of abject passion on her face. The end of the minute-long clip featured all three of her holes getting filled with his semen, and her clear enjoyment of those acts. Whoever edited the footage took care to black-out the faces of everyone but her.

All the color drained from Brittany's face. Instinctively, her hand clutched around her rigged Prada bag. "Oh, don't worry ... we put your camera back where we found it. Thank you for loaning us your equipment. As payment, please accept this copy of our censored version of last night's events." Gregg pushed the DVD-ROM across the desk which Brittany picked up with shaking fingers. "You can be sure that we are unidentifiable. You, however, well ... let's just say the camera loves you."

"This doesn't prove anything you sick son of a bitch."

"Oh, you're probably right. To anyone watching, it probably just looks like you were having a night of fun. Nothing too incriminating other than all those little Omega Xi taboos you broke." Gregg ticked off on his fingers as he listed her offenses: "Having unprotected sex, anal sex, gay sex, and of course ... getting caught on camera. With all the close-ups and pans, how could you not notice that there was someone with a camera there? No one will believe that this is secret camera footage. And then there's your absolutely poor performance sucking my dick. Honestly, I thought you gals would be better at that. Gee, I'd hate to think of what your sorority sisters would think if they got a hold of this. And don't worry — I've made plenty of copies. For now, just think of it as a memento of our special night together."

Brittany slumped in her seat. She was too exhausted to think her way out of this trap. The best strategy at this point was just to agree to whatever he said and get away. "Okay ... what do you want?"

"The secret passcodes to the Zion Mainframe!" Brittany looked at him like she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Hmm, not in the mood for a little humor, eh?"

Brittany just stared at him blankly. "Okay then. Miss Anderson, you fail to grasp the point. It's not about what I want. It's about what YOU want." Brittany looked at him quizzically. Gregg pulled a file folder out from his desk and calmly examined its contents. When he could see that Brittany was anxious to know what was so intriguing, he turned the folder around laid it before her. She cringed at the all too familiar candid snapshots of her in incriminating poses with (in this case) one of the math faculty. "You keep very detailed records. According to your impeccable files, you've managed to milk Dr. Henderson for close to $10,000 so far to keep his one-time affair with you from his wife. For an academic, that's a lot of money ... heck, it's a lot of money for anyone! I'm sure the good professor ... well, maybe not so good or he wouldn't have fucked you ... but still, I'm sure he'd be relieved to know that his file is no longer in your keeping."

Brittany's mind reeled. How could he have that? It was obviously her file, she recognized her handwriting on the inside folder cover. What else did he have?

As if he was reading her mind, he answered. "You must have been very exhausted last night. Didn't you realize when you went to bed that your file cabinet was missing? That your computer was gone? That all of your little stashes of information were gone? And yes, I even have the flash drive you hid inside your Mr. Snuggles. Didn't you even notice that this — " he pulled her pledge paddle out from under his desk, " — was missing from its peg over your bed?"

Brittany started making a quick mental list of all the places she hid her valuable information, knowing he couldn't possibly have gotten everything. Like a well honed reflex, Brittany put on her most charming smile, sitting up straighter to emphasize her breasts, and licked her lips, her tongue stud tapping against her lower teeth. 'Use the tools you got, Brittany, ' she thought to herself.

"Take a cold shower Brittany. You were barely passable as a mercy fuck last night." Brittany slumped back down, looking as though his words stung more painfully than a fist. "Maybe you should be paying ME for lessons?"

"Is that what this is about? Money? I've got money. How much do you want?"

"It's not about money." Gregg sighed almost sadly, exasperated. "You just really have no idea, do you? Not everything is about you." Gregg scanned her consciousness and her actions on Tuesday night weren't even in her mental list of reasons why she was in the predicament she was in.

So be it. Her window of opportunity for what little bit of mercy he was willing to grant her was now closed. Striking a pose like he was in deep thought, he stretched his consciousness into her. He blocked all memory of Charli from her mind. She would remember her actions — if she chose to — but wouldn't be able to connect Charli's face to what was about befall her should the two ever meet in public. Any chance she had at retribution would come not from satisfaction over a single issue, but from wholesale acceptance of who and what she was.

Pulling back, he studied her for several more seconds. "This is the way it will be for the rest of the semester: You will come to my class. You will go to ALL of your classes. You will have a PERFECT attendance record. I don't care if you're coughing up bloody chunks of lung, you will not miss any more classes. You will do your own work and take your own tests. Every Monday and Thursday night from 6pm until 6am ... you're mine. You'll come to the same apartment you were at last night ... starting tonight. I suggest you get ahead on your studying, because those two nights are spoken for."

Brittany looked like she was ready to chew her own leg off. She hadn't even kept the syllabi for most of her classes! Gregg handed her a small piece of paper with several phone numbers scrawled across it. "You will also be available whenever I call. Put these numbers into your cell phone. If you get a call from one of them, you will answer. I don't recommend taking any long trips. Failure to appear when and where I say will mean punishment. Do we understand each other?"

"That's not fair!"

"Perceptive, aren't we? It's not supposed to be fair. These will be the rules by which you will live your life for the remainder of this semester."

Hope creeped into her features. "And at the end of the semester?"

"I'll reevaluate how good a student you are. You have some lessons to learn. If you learn them well, you'll find that your time with me will not only be shorter — it may even be enjoyable. Failure to learn these lessons will result in punishment. Sound familiar? It should. It's just like your sick pledge initiation. Think of yourself as my one and only pledge in a super-secret fraternity ... maybe that will make this all more ... palatable."

Brittany looked totally beaten. 'How does he know about our initiations? I don't remember ever seeing him at one... ' Her mind was just so overwhelmed that she couldn't process how quickly her fortunes had turned. She got up to go, but when she half rose, her pledge paddle slammed hard onto the desk. Slinking back into her seat, she cringed in fear at the look of pure rage on Dr. Walter's face.

"DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO LEAVE!?!"

"N ... no," she squeaked weakly.

Gregg sat back calmly, as if his burst of rage never happened. "When you are with me, you will not move or speak without my express permission! Now, what do you say?"

"M ... may ... may I go now ... please ... Dr. Walters?"

"Yes ... of course. I'll see you tonight. 6pm sharp. And Brittany?"

"Y ... yes Dr. Walters?"

"You will not discuss any of this with anyone. Understand?" Gregg emphasized this last command with a particularly harsh mental push that actually caused her head snap back as if someone had slapped in the forehead.

Shaking her head to clear the sudden wave of nausea, she muttered, "Yeah ... I mean ... yes ... Dr. Walters ... I understand."

"No, I don't think you do ... but you'll learn."

Brittany rose again, never taking her eyes off Gregg until she was out the door. Once out of his sight, she burst into a run.

Gregg picked up his phone and dialed the Admissions office. "Hi Heather ... Yeah, she just left ... Everything went just perfectly ... Let's get everything ready for tonight ... I love you too ... Bye."

Ten minutes later, the few remaining girls at the Omega Xi house who were still asleep were awoken by a horrific, blood curdling scream of anguish as Brittany confirmed the truth of everything Gregg had said.

The little post-it note stuck to her computer monitor (cables dangling where her CPU used to be) simply read in large feminine script, "Gotcha."

"Gregg, I appreciate you asking me over, but really ... I'm fine ... or at least I will be." Charli looked uneasy sitting on the couch in Heather's apartment. Everyone was there except for Chad who was away at another game and Laura, who decided to stay at Gregg's. Chad wanted to stay with Charli, but she insisted he go to his game. "But ... I think I'm going to drop your course ... I ... I just don't think I can face her ... Ow!" Charli winced as Rivkah pulled her comb through a particularly dense thatch of tangles. For some strange reason, Rivkah had taken it upon herself to comb and braid her long black hair.

"Nonsense." Gregg, stood and grabbed Charli's empty glass and went into the kitchen to refill it. "You're always welcome to come back to class. In the meantime, I'm sure Chad wouldn't mind tutoring you ... not that you need any extra help. You were one of only two students to get an 'A' on my quiz, by the way."

"Who was the other?"

"Deuce Machinaw ... but he's just auditing the class, so his 'A' doesn't even count."

Everyone was smiling at her at that moment except for Heather who was frowning at the contents of the packet Chad had her deliver. Weeks ago, Heather had asked Chad to do some research that had her pretty worried. When Charli gave her the envelope, with instructions to tell Heather it was "regarding her sudden interest in Scottish-English relations," Heather's face fell. Apparently whatever his research found was not settling well with her.

Emily looked up at Charli from where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor. She was wearing her purple nurse's scrubs which were becoming almost as trademark as her dark brown ponytail. She must have come over straight from classes. "So where are you going, all dressed up like that?"

Charli was wearing a tight black knit tank top and a black skirt. It showed a lot of cleavage and a lot of leg. Her fingernails were painted black as were her eyelids, and lips. Around her neck was one of her favorite spiked collars. She owned a pair of two-inch heeled boots, but they were still in her dorm room. Every time she tried walking in them, she'd fall. So, for now, she still wore her army boots, laced tightly half-way up her shin. The whole ensemble was something she'd bought herself after Heather and Emily helped her come out of her shell. Her original plan was to wear it to the Black Box on Goth night, to give it a test ride in public. Despite her humiliating treatment at the hands of Brittany, she was more determined than ever to show she was worthy of such erotic and exotic wear. She kind of wished Rivkah wasn't pulling her hair back to tightly ... with it held back, she wouldn't be able to hide behind it!

"I'm going to the Black Box. It's kind of my sanctuary. It doesn't matter what you look like there..."

Heather smiled reassuringly, putting the envelope with its mysterious contents down on the kitchen table. "Honey, looking like that, you're going to be the hottest one there! If we didn't already have other plans..." Heather's statement didn't need to be finished and Charli blushed at the redhead's overt flirtation. "Are you sure we can't convince you to stay?"

Charli shook her head. "No. I really need to go. I need to be around other freaks for a night. It's like going home ... I've been cooped up too long as it is." For some reason, everyone looked to Gregg, but he just waved his hand. "Besides, Mistress Michelle takes the stage in an hour and I really don't want to miss her." Charli frowned, wondering why Heather was trying to hide a smile. "You're all acting weird ... what's going on?"

Again, everyone looked toward Gregg. "Rivkah, why don't you check on our present." Rivkah dropped Charli's now completed braid which was an almost identical copy of her own. She put a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder before slipping inside Heather's bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

With the door closed, Gregg nodded to Heather. "E'dan, could you hand me that bag behind you?" E'dan picked up the bag on the floor and walked it over to Heather. There was a rattling of what sounded like chains before she pulled out a small present, and handed it to Charli. "This is for you. It's our little way of saying how much we love you. Of how strong you are ... of how beautiful."

Charli's almost teary-eyed look of affection turned to confusion when she opened the box. Inside was a black velvet mask, similar to ones worn at Victorian masquerades. The inside was padded and silk lined, and it had an elastic strap to go around her hand. It was clearly expensive. "I don't get it. You try to tell me I'm beautiful by giving me a MASK? I mean ... it's nice, I guess, but ... am I missing something?"

"That's not really the present. But it's something you'll need to truly appreciate the real present. Here, let me put it on you." Heather lifted it out from the box and set it in place, tightening the strap so it wouldn't slip. It was so light and comfortable, Charli felt like she could wear it for hours. It covered her eyes and nose, leaving her nostrils and mouth uncovered. "There. Perfect. I'm surprised you didn't recognize it. Your friend, Mistress Michelle loaned it to us ... consider it her contribution." Charli winced at the thought that Michelle knew what had happened to her. Michelle was always a pillar of strength in her mind. To have her know how easily she was put down... "Your real present is waiting for you in my bedroom. But before we bring it out, you have to promise us something."

"Uh, okay."

"No matter what happens, just go along. I swear, everything is as it is supposed to be." Charli nodded confusedly. "Our gift to you will seem ... shocking ... but I think you'll like it. Above all else, remember that you're in a safe place, with people who love you."

In the past week, Charli not only had her first lesbian experience as well as a three-way with Heather and Emily, she also lost her virginity to Chad ... in Heather and Gregg's company ... what could they possibly have behind that door that would shock her at this point?! As if preparing her for the worst, Heather reached out and held her hand.

"Rivkah? Bring IT out!"

A few seconds later Rivkah emerged from the bedroom leading a naked, blindfolded, and gagged girl. When the girl was positioned in the middle of the room, shaking with either cold or fear, Gregg stepped up before her. After checking to make sure Charli was watching, Gregg pulled the plugs out from the poor girl's ears. Then he untied her gag, and finally the blindfold. Rivkah stood behind the girl and kept a guarded hand on her shoulder.

Charli's hand squeezed Heather's very tightly, recognition of just who the naked girl was causing her body to tense in fear. Heather put a hand on her shoulder and whispered, "It's okay honey ... trust us," in her ear. It didn't do much to calm her, but at least she started breathing again.

Rivkah stood behind Brittany, one hand on her shoulder, the other playing with her near-blond curls. Brittany looked ill from the older woman's too-familiar touches. That she was naked in a room full of strangers seemed to bother her only slightly less.

"Mistress Cheryl?"

It took Heather's whispered, "that's you," into Charli's ear for her to look up at Gregg. She couldn't seem to find her voice, so she simply nodded, an action that took the greatest force of will. Nobody ever called her Cheryl, her given name. Charli was what her father used to call her before he got killed, and that's the name she preferred.

"Mistress Cheryl, I present to you Brittany Anderson. She used to think she was somebody important. I give her to you ... our gift."

Charli was too stunned to move. She only gulped. Gregg walked over and took her by the hand, and walked her so she was standing directly in front of Brittany. If Gregg hadn't been holding her hand, she probably would have bolted. "Miss Anderson, do you have any idea who stands before you?"

Brittany tried to look away, but Rivkah's fingers tightened in her hair, forcing her to look at the glammed up goth girl in front of her. Even if she weren't wearing a mask, she'd never hang out with someone dressed like that. Still, the pale skin and the dark eyes behind the mask seemed familiar ... she just couldn't place them.

After long seconds of silence, Rivkah pulled back sharply on her hair. "Answer the question."

"NO! ... no. I don't know who she is." Brittany shifted her weight nervously from foot to foot.

Gregg stood behind Charli and whispered in her ear. "Look at her Charli. There's nothing to fear from her any longer. She's smaller than you. She's weak. She has no friends ... no power ... no love." Gregg looked at the trembling naked girl. "Brittany, who is the current Vice President of the United States?" When Brittany was forced to admit she didn't know, Gregg whispered into Charli's ear, "See? She doesn't even have any brains."

That brought a hint of a smile to Charli's face. "Gregg," she whispered. "I ... I ... can't ... I ... don't know what ... what to do."

"Shhh. It's okay. We'll show you." Gregg nodded to Rivkah who kicked Brittany behind her legs, dropping her to her knees. Only her firm grip in the girl's hair kept the sorority girl from toppling forward. Charli winced in recognition of the move that brought her to her knees at Brittany's party.

Heather stepped forward carrying a long wooden paddle with lines of writing down its length. Brittany winced in recognition of her own sorority paddle. It had been years since she'd felt its sting. Heather stood in front of her and held the end out so it hovered just in front of her face. "Kiss it." The serious look on the redhead's face made it clear she wasn't joking. Even so, there was a limit to how far Brittany Anderson would play the professor's game, no matter what he held over her.

"Fuck you."

Heather smiled wickedly. "I was hoping you'd say that." Heather nodded to Rivkah who shoved Brittany forward so she was positioned on all fours. The strong woman's grip on her neck left her completely immobile. Brittany couldn't move her head, but her eyes followed Heather's path as far as her eyes would turn in their sockets.

Heather stepped behind the supplicated figure and stared at the perfect asscheeks presented to her. In any other context, she would have admired the perfectly sculpted form of her prisoner. Her wicked smile turned to a snarl of anger and with a rage that surprised everyone in the room, Heather let fly with the paddle. SMACK! It landed with such force and volume that everyone in the room jumped a little. Brittany cried out in shock and in pain, tears quickly spilling out from her eyes. She had gotten her share of paddlings as a pledge, but she didn't remember it hurting so much.

Gregg watched, adding a trickle of excitement and pleasure emanating from Brittany's crotch. She was in great pain, but was in greater mental anguish at her body's perverse enjoyment of her rough treatment.