Archive-name: Control/contjen2.txt

Archive-author: Daniel Reinker

Archive-title: Controlling Jennifer - 2





Story follows:

Warning! This story contains sexual activity of the nonconsensual

sort, so if you don't like it, press 'n'! Also, this story

contains little violence, so if you want to read s&m, go elsewhere!



Hello folks! This is the second chapter in the Controlling Jennifer

series. This story is (c) 1993 by Daniel Reinker, and while you

can go ahead and distribute it, please keep this header on it

so everyone knows I wrote it. Thanks! Enjoy.



             CONTROLLING JENNIFER II: LESSONS IN OBEDIENCE





The phone rang, and Jennifer jumped. Darlene, her roommate, gave

her an annoyed look and picked up the phone. "Hello? Yeah, this is Darlene.

Huh? Oh, sure...I have it right here." Flashing Jennifer another annoyed

look, she picked up her math assignment sheet and started to read an

assignment from it.

	Jenny hugged her pillow close to her, listening to the phone

conversation and trying to take refuge in its relative normalcy. It wasn't

him. Thank god it wasn't him. She pressed her cheek into the soft fabric of

the pillow, and held it tightly. Her eyes stared to the side, her mind

fighting once again to deny what had happened to her before. It seemed

like a dream now, but Jennifer knew it had not been a dream. She could

not wake up from this nightmare.

	She heard the click as Darlene hung up, and heard her roommate

stand. She didn't look, but she knew the expression that was on Darlene's

face; it was Darlene's exasperation look, with her eyebrows jagged and

her lips pursed together tightly. Jennifer had been seeing Darlene's

exasperation look quite a bit lately. 

	"You want to tell me what the hell is going on, Jennifer?" Darlene

snapped. "I can see being startled by the phone, once, maybe twice, but

EVERY FUCKING TIME? What's gotten into you? You're so jumpy lately... and

you won't tell me why! What's wrong, Jennifer?"

	Jennifer was silent for a moment. Once again, she was tempted to

just blurt out the whole story, about Mark, about his powers, what he had

done to her. And once again, she stopped herself. For one, she didn't want

to draw anyone into this beside herself. And for another...who would

believe her? Jenny barely believed it herself.

	"Nothing's wrong." she mumbled.

	"What?!? The hell, nothing's wrong! You've completely weirded out on

me, Jen! You stay in the room all day, moping around, staring into space.

You won't answer the phone anymore, and it seems to scare you to death

whenever it rings...you won't talk to anyone, you don't go out anymore...you

can't tell me nothings wrong. Give me some credit, Jennifer!"

	Jennifer spoke, squeezing the pillow even tighter. "You couldn't help

anyway."

	Darlene's voice softened, and she spoke with concern now. "Won't you

let me try, Jenny? I'm worried about you! I know somethings wrong...but

you won't tell me. C'mon...talk to me. Maybe I'll surprise you." Darlene's

voice hesitated, waiting, but Jennifer stayed silent. Finally, she heard

Darlene sigh and move back to her desk. The scraping of Darlene's pencil

resumed.

	Jennifer dropped her pillow and slipped on her slippers to walk to

the bathroom. She seemed to do this a lot now, telling herself that she

was leaving to give Darlene a break from her constant moping. But it was

more to give herself a place to think. She would close herself in one of

the stalls, and sit on the seat, hugging her legs to herself and thinking of

what had happened to her.

	She stared at the gray of the stall door. She had been mind-raped.

This term had come to her that first day, and it had stuck in her head.

Mind-rape. It wasn't like real rape, for it offered no chance of resistance.

It made her degrade herself willingly, only letting her loose to regret her

actions after the fact. It seemed worse than actual rape, because in

actual rape you were obviously the victim. In what Mark had done to her,

her role was blurred, even to herself. She kept telling herself over and

over that she could have prevented his control. She could have fought it

harder than she had, and maybe opposed it. It was as much her fault for

not resisting enough, and this was the worst part of it.

	After That Day, she had been scared to even go to class, for fear she

might see him again. She hadn't been able to talk to Jacob since, or even

his roommate Kurt, fearing what she had become in their mind's eye. A

wanton slut. That's probably what they saw her as.

	Most of all, she feared when it would end. Would she ever have her

own life? Or would Mark make her his slave forever? Would she ever be

free? This is what scared her most of all. That her role was set...as

Mark's slave, for all eternity.

	Jenny's butt hurt, and she realized she had been sitting in the stall

for quite awhile. She stood, letting the blood circulate back into her rear

end, and flushed the toilet, to make it seem like she had actually been

using the bathroom.

	Amy, the girl from down the hall, was  brushing her teeth. "Hi,

Jenny!" she grinned at the mirror, her teeth covered with suds. Jenny

forced a weak smile in response, and padded back to her room.

	As she walked in, Darlene was on the phone. "It's for you, Jennifer."

Darlene said, offering the phone.

	Jennifer stared at the phone. It seemed suddenly malevolent, and she

pulled back from it. "Tell him I'm not home." she whispered.

	"I already said you were home." insisted Darlene. "Come on, Jennifer.

Stop acting like an idiot and take the phone." 

	Jennifer reluctantly touched the phone, then hesitated, watching

Darlene's face contort in exasperation. Slowly, summoning her nerve,

Jennifer let her hand wind around the handle, and lifted it to her ear.

	"Hello?" she whispered weakly.

	"Hello, Jennifer." Mark's voice said back. His voice was bright and

cheery, and Jennifer almost dropped the phone in shock. But she could not.

Her hand was frozen onto it.

	"You..." was all she could say.

	"Yes. Mark, remember? I hope you enjoyed your last lesson in

obedience, Jennifer. And I hope you've learned from it. I don't want to have

to teach you again."

	"What do you want?" Jennifer rasped, her voice catching. Darlene

looked up in concern.

	"First of all, I want you to calm down. We wouldn't want your

roommate to find out about our special arrangement, now would it? After

all, the deal was only for you, remember, Jenny? We never said anything

about your roommate, and I would rather not have to take control of her,

too. Neither of us wants me to have to do that, am I right?"

	Jennifer forced her voice to be more firm. "Yes. You're right." With

great effort and more self-control than she knew she possessed, Jennifer

flashed Darlene a smile. "Chill, Darlene...everything's fine, it's a friend of

mine from class." Darlene smiled back, relaxed, and continued working on

her math.

	Mark laughed. "Very good, Jenny! I think we'll have a good time, you

and I. I suppose you're wondering why I called. Well, I wanted to request

your presence at dinner tomorrow. I'm going out to La Rochelles....its a

snooty french restaurant...and I want you to accompany me. Shall we say,

oh...sevenish?"

	He actually paused, and Jennifer was swept away in the whole

surrealness of the situation. He sounded like he was actually asking her

on a date! Over the week since she had first seen Mark, his image had

grown in her mind, until it seemed like he was the devil himself. The way

he asked her out, as if she actually had a choice, took her completely

aback. It was so at odds with her image of him.

	"Jennifer?" he asked.

	"You ask me like I actually have a choice." she murmured, quietly

enough that Darlene couldn't hear her. 

	Mark's response was cheery. "Well, you do have a choice. You can

come of your own free will, or I can make you come. Not much of a choice,

I admit..." he let his voice drift away.

	"Well, then, I guess seven it is." she said, her voice dripping sarcasm.

She was surprised at how easy it was to talk with Mark. At how easy it

was to let her anger at him overshadow her fear of him. He was a human,

just like her...just with the power to control. It didn't make him perfect;

it didn't make him any better than her.

	Jenny's intimidation started to fade.

	"I'll pick you up in front of your dorm at seven then, ok? And

naturally you will dress to please me. You are a beautiful young lady, Miss

Cailly. Impress me." And before she could answer, the phone clicked, and

she was left hearing the steady hum of the dial tone.

	"Goodbye." she said, to keep up appearances, and passed the phone to

Darlene. Darlene looked at her with open curiousity, which Jenny

studiously pretended not to notice. Finally, Darlene had to speak. "Well?

Who was that?"

	"A guy in one of my classes." Jenny said vaguely.

	Darlene's face split into a grin. "Really? Is he after you?"

	Jennifer suppressed her urge to shudder. Nevertheless, a shiver went

down her spine. "You could say so." she said.

	"Wow! Are you after him?"

	A long empty pause as Jenny tried to decide how to answer, trying to

figure out how to put Darlene off without making her even more curious.

Finally, the silence, seemed to answer Darlene. She held up her hand. "Oh,

sorry, I know, I'm being nosy. Just don't get a boyfriend without telling

me, ok, Jen?" Jen nodded, and Darlene contentedly  returned to her math.

	For the rest of the evening, Jenny found she couldn't concentrate. She

kept wondering to herself what would happen the next day. What would

she be forced to do? Her mind jumped from one erotic image to the next,

each one more degrading than the next. Maybe he would make her strip

down right there, in front of the restaurant. It was a possibility. Maybe he

would make her have sex with all the men in the restaurant, one at a

time, until she lay naked, sprawled on the floor as they stood around her,

a toy for their amusement.

	The worst part of it was that she realized some of it fascinated her.

She would catch herself playing with an image in her head, over and over,

replaying it and replaying it, until her vagina started to get wet. Usually

then she caught herself, while her mind screamed at her to stop, to stop

thinking about such things, lest it weaken her resolve against his control.

	Finally, worried and confused, she fell asleep.

	The next day was even worse. She tried to plunge herself into her

studies, but she couldn't concentrate on anything. Her attention span was

gone and she didn't get much of anything out of her classes. By then, her

mind had moved on from imagining what he would do to her to trying to

figure out a way out of his control. She spent almost two and a half hours

trying to decide what to wear. If she disappointed him too much, he would

get mad and make her do worse things. On the other hand, if she looked too

good, he might get too turned on and again make her do worse things. All

the while, she was mad that she was doting so much on him; it was far

more than he deserved. Her final compromise was to wear a modest pretty

green dress with a lot of underwear. She emptied out her underwear

drawer, putting on anything that could go on without looking too strange.

If he was going to make her disrobe, she wasn't going to make it easy on

him.

	Seven o'clock started to approach, and she felt sick. Jennifer's

reflection in the mirror was beautiful, and Darlene said over and over

again how gorgeous she was. Jennifer had combed her hair back and tied it

with a green ribbon to match her face. On the whole, she thought she

looked too good; far better than he deserved. It made her sick, that she

was dressing up only to satisfy his taste for the perverse, and not just

morally sick but physically sick. Unfortunately, the paleness of her skin

contrasted well with the rich green of the dress and only made her look

more attractive.

	Finally, it came to be seven, and Jennifer composed herself and

walked down to the lobby. Her fingernails were bitten down; it was a

habit she had when she was nervous, and she was very nervous. Until she

came downstairs and saw him waiting for her.

	It had been a week, and Jennifer had almost forgotten what he looked

like. Almost. As soon as she entered the lobby she saw his dark italian

features and his smug grin. He was waiting near the payphones, dressed in

a dark suit and tie. Jennifer would have thought he was handsome under

normal circumstances, but this time she could only see him as a repulsive

monster.

	"Hi, Jennifer." She froze. He walked over and took her hand. She felt

faint; he radiated smug confidence, along with the subtle scent of some

cologne, and when he took her hand, she did not resist. He pressed a kiss

to the back of her hand, his eyes looking deep into hers, a smirk hovering

on his lips. "You look gorgeous, my lovely slave Jennifer. I am very

pleased. I was afraid I would have to teach you another lesson."

	She still couldn't speak. She hadn't really been prepared to see him

again, and she was too shaken to do anything. He took her hand and led her

outside to where a limo waited. The limo driver opened the door for her,

and she dropped onto the seat. Mark slid in next to her, and the driver

closed the door.

	"You see?" smiled Mark. "Only the best for us." The chauffer settled

in the front seat and started the engine.

	"To La Rochelles, Mr. Wells." Mark commanded, and the driver pulled

away from the curb.

	Jennifer finally found her voice. "Is he...he's controlled, too?"

	"Yes, he's under my power at the moment." said Mark. "I thought we

could drive there in style." She felt him plant a soft kiss on her cheek. She

breathed in slightly, but otherwise didn't react, kept her eyes staring

forward. "Only the best for you, my slave." He leaned forward and started

making a drink from the bar.

	Jennifer watched him mix the different liquors together into what

looked like a martini. The seat was very soft and luxurious, but she was

too tense to enjoy it. Mark took a sip, and seemed to notice this. "Hey,

relax, Jennifer. You're too tense. I don't like to see you tense."

	His words seemed to come from a distance. "Is that an order?" she

murmured.

	"No, just a suggestion. You'll have a better time if you just relax.

Want something to drink?" he indicated the bar.

	"I don't drink."

	Mark smiled. "Good!" he emptied his glass, and set it on the bar. "So,

how was your day?"

	Jenny looked at him to see if he was serious. Once again, the whole

situation was becoming surreally normal. Too much like a real date. She

was almost too stunned to answer. Outside, the streetlights were

slipping one by one past the car. Distantly, she heard the chauffer put on

the signal, and the limo made a left turn.

	She gradually focused on Mark's face. It was in shadows, but she

could make out his grin. "How can you ask that?" she finally answered.

"All day, all I could think of was this." Her voice was frighteningly

neutral to her ears. She sounded dead.

	He slipped his hand back behind her head and pulled her forward. She

was too numb to resist, and he brushed his lips against hers. "Good. As

well it should be, slave." She could smell the alcohol on his breath.

	The car stopped, and Jennifer realized that they had already reached

the restaurant. The chauffer had pulled in front, and got out of the car to

open their doors. Mark was on the right side, so he got out first. He took

Jenny's hand to lead her out, and she once again felt too lost to resist.

	They entered the restaurant, leaving the chauffer to take care of

himself for awhile. The head waiter immediately came forward, a small

well-dressed gentleman. "Mr. Antonio!" he said in an obsequious french

accent. "How good it is to see you again! I have saved you your usual

table." The waiter led the way to a small elegant table on the side of the

restaurant.

	Mark pulled Jennifer along, and she wondered to herself whether he

was trying to impress her with all this fanciness and glitz. It was like

dating a movie star, she supposed, only she knew that like her, all these

others were just under Mark's control. It was his power that made this all

possible. Still, she had to admit she was a little swept away with it all.

It was certainly the most impressive first date she had been on. And thus

far, he had been relatively nice and polite, despite his habit of calling her

'slave.' He certainly did not seem like the monster she had thought him.

	Of course, Jenny admitted to herself, she had not resisted yet. Still,

her apprehension at being with Mark faded, and she started to relax.

	She realized that the head waiter had pulled out her chair, and she

sat down across from Mark. The head waiter walked off, and Jennifer

heard him telling someone to 'take good care of Mr. Antonio.' 

	The restaurant was very elegant, one of those romantic places with

low lights and candles in the middle of the table. A place for lovers. Mark

looked at her over the table, his eyes glinting. "So, Miss Cailly, what do

you think so far?"

	"You seem to have gone to a lot of trouble to impress me." she said

hesitantly, not sure what his reaction would be.

	He only nodded slightly to her, his eyes dancing in the candlelight.

"And are you impressed?"

	"Well, yes." she admitted reluctantly, meeting his eyes. "That is, I'm

impressed with your power."

	"Good." he said. "You should be." He waved his hand at the restaurant.

"You see, Jennifer, to be my slave is not such a bad thing. I ask very little

from you, and look how much you can receive! Is this life so bad?"

	As soon as he mentioned what he asked of her, her mind flashed back

to when she had been in the park. The man on the bench, his eyes flashing

confusion, shock, and above all, ecstacy. Her fingers slick with sperm, his

sperm. Her breasts bared for everyone's appraisal. This was very little?

He stole her freedom, he made her an object for some boy's pleasure.

	"How can you say that?" she burst, louder than she had intended.

"How can you possibly expect me to exchange my freedom for this? Can

you honestly believe I accept what you ask of me?"

	Mark's dark eyebrows narrowed. "I would ask you to keep your voice

down, Jenny. I don't want a slave of mine to disrupt the dinners of others.

It reflects poorly on me."

	"What?" asked Jennifer. "How..."

	"In fact...." interrupted Mark, and his voice was now very stern. "I

think that if you raise your voice again, you will remove an article of

clothing. Starting now."

	"What?" asked Jennifer, and then she remembered his power. He had

just used it on her. She quickly became quiet.

	"That's better." said Mark. "I'm sorry, Jennifer, but you must

remember who you are yelling at. I am your master. Whether you like it or

not. Please apologize."

	"I'm sorry." Jennifer said quietly. She inwardly cursed herself for

making him mad.

	"That's better." He reached under the table and pulled out a bag. "Now,

Jennifer, I said before that you were very beautiful, and you are, and I am

happy with how you dressed to please me. However, I am displeased with

what you wore. You are over-dressed for this situation. Fortunately, I

brought you an outfit to wear." He indicated the bag.

	Oh, god, thought Jennifer to herself. He's going to make me change,

out here, in public. She realized this with cold certainty.

	Almost as if he read her mind, Mark said "Oh, don't worry. You can go

to the bathroom to change." Jennifer was so relieved she actually smiled.

She took the bag from him and got up to head to the bathroom.

	"Oh." his voice followed her. "Of course, I meant the MEN's bathroom."

	She turned, shocked. He was casually examining the tablecloth.

	"And naturally you won't displease me by changing in the stall." He

lifted his eyes, and they flashed malevolently at her.

	Jennifer opened her mouth to argue, but knew by the look in his eyes

that it would do no good. Finally, she turned, and walked to the bathroom.

	At first she hovered by the door to the woman's bathroom, acting

like she was preparing to go in, but actually looking at the door to the

men's bathroom. She held the bag he had given her tightly in her arms, and

her stomach rose and fell like a roller coaster. What if a guy was already

in there? How long should she wait, before she went in? How long did

guys take to pee, anyhow? Then she realized that the longer she waited,

the greater the chance that some other man would enter while she was

changing. Finally, she gritted her teeth and pushed through the door.

	The bathroom was empty, and she exhaled. At least she didn't have to

worry about that. She checked the door on the off-chance that it had a

lock. No such luck.

	She hesitated only a second, realizing that the longer she took, the

greater the chance of being interrupted. Cautiously, she pushed open the

door and took a peek outside, to see if anyone was making a beeline to the

bathroom. No one. She was safe for awhile.

	She stood in front of the mirror, and quickly pulled down the zipper

to her dress. As she stepped out of it, she remembered how much

underwear she wore underneath it. Another quick peek out the door; no

one.

	"Come on, Jenny, get on with it before you get caught." she muttered.

She kept her shoes on; they wouldn't get in the way too much. She reached

into the bag and looked at what she had been provided with. Her heart

sank. The black leather skirt was very short, the panties very slim, and

she couldn't find a bra. The silk blouse was fairly sheer; her nipples would

be very visible through them. "What a sleaze." she said, but at least it was

better than nothing.

	She started to pull of her various undergarments, pulling the slips

over her head. She slipped off the panties (she had worn four pairs),

pantyhose and the silk underskirts all at the same time, and felt really

vulnerable, seeing her black pubic triangle reflected in the mirror. Was

that someone at the door? Seconds passed, no one entered. Just her

imagination. Jenny cursed herself for letting time slip by and pulled on

the tiny panties he had provided her with. They barely covered her rear

end, and in the front she had pubic hair protruding from the top of the

waistband. Still it had to do. She pulled on the skirt frantically, almost

losing her balance, and experienced some temporary relief at being more

decent. The skirt was fairly tight, and clung to her rear end. But at least

it covered her. 

	Next she pulled off the various silk tops, and finally unsnapped her

bra. She tore at it, trying to get it off, almost getting tangled in it, but

finally, it fell to the floor. Her breasts were free, and she once again felt

exposed.

	And then she heard the door opening.

	The man who entered looked at least as shocked as she was. His eyes

stared at her chest, and she realized what kind of show she was giving

him. She quickly reached down to snag the blouse, only to fumble it away

in her scrambling.

	The man was quicked to recover. "I think one of us is in the wrong

bathroom." he said, in a cultured english accent. He leaned on the counter,

and made no move to avert his eyes from Jenny's naked breasts.

	"Yes, I'm sorry." mumbled Jenny. "Let me finish changing, and I'll

leave." She was acutely aware at how her breasts jounced around as she

bent down to pick up the blouse, and acutely aware of how his brown eyes

were locked onto her brown nipples.

	"Oh, take your time. It's not often that I see such a beautiful naked

woman as yourself."

	Was that meant as a compliment? Jennifer would have taken it more

so if the man's lecherous eyes weren't so frozen on her nipples. At least

he could see what her face looked like.

	"You have such lovely breasts. May I....touch them?" Jenny's eyes

widened in shock, and she focused on the man again. He was running his

hand over the bathroom counter, slowly, fondling it. His breathing was a

little too quick, and his eyes a little too intense.

	"No!" she shouted, and then, for some reason, she was compelled to

remove her shoe. The man had started to drift closer to her, and now he

rubbed his hands together in front of him.

	She frantically pulled the blouse over her head, and over her torso.

Looking down, she realized it did little good. The fabric was sheer enough

that her breasts were still very visible, and she didn't have time to do up

the buttons. Still, it was apparently as decent as she was going to get.

	"They look so soft...so lovely..." 

	"Go away!" Jennifer pushed aside his advancing hands, and stuffed

everything she could in the bag, including her two shoes. She grabbed the

bag and pushed through the man toward the door. As she passed him, she

felt one of his hands brush over her left breast. His palm stroked across

her nipple in what felt like a burst of electricity that coarsed through her

body. Then she was out the door and making her way toward Mark,

buttoning the blouse as she went.

	Mark apparently had ordered for her. A plate of steaming Escargot

waited for her as she sat down, and Mark was a third of the way finished

with some chicken dish. He looked up as she approached, and let his eyes

wander over her body.

	"Very nice!" he smiled.

	She dropped into her seat. "Damn you!" she growled, careful to keep

her voice down... after all, she couldn't afford to lose anymore clothes. "I

almost got raped in there, you know!"

	He shook his head. "You wouldn't have gotten raped." He stuck a

forkful of chicken into his mouth.

	"He was there, damn it! He wanted to touch my breasts! He would

have raped me if I hadn't gotten away!" She said this before she realized

it, louder than she intended, and immediately her fingers were working at

the buttons of the blouse, even as she struggled to control them, and soon

the blouse was unbuttoned. Her hands pulled apart the two sides, and she

felt the air against her breasts. Her hands dropped.

	"Can you blame him?" asked Mark, admiring her. "You have such lovely

breasts, my slave." And he sipped a glass of wine as Jennifer lay open to

his, and the restaurants, view. She could feel her face hot with shame. 

	Finally, Mark spoke. "Button your blouse, Jenny." She felt her hands

released from whatever power held them, and she quickly covered herself

again. Frantically, she looked around, and was relieved to see no one

appeared to have noticed her when she was exposed. She turned back to

Mark, to see him staring deep into her eyes. She was caught, held, by

those eyes.

	"There are two lessons you need to learn as my slave, Jennifer. The

first is obedience. You are learning this; you performed my bathroom

instructions very well, and without complaint. I am pleased. The second

thing is that you need to learn to have faith in me. I am your master,

Jennifer, and that means that not only do you serve me, but I am

responsible for you. That means I don't let you get hurt. I don't let men

rape you. I don't let you catch diseases or get pregnant. I control, Jenny,

situations as well as people." He dropped his eyes, and she felt as if he

had released her from some spell. "That man would never have raped you,

not with me around." muttered Mark. He said no more, only worked on

eating his chicken.

	Jennifer watched him eat, and then starting poking at her escargot.

It tasted really good, in a rich butter sauce, and she started to eat. After

awhile, she even stopped caring that her breasts were visible through the

sheer blouse.

	When the waiter came, he seemed to pay very close attention to

Jennifer's chest, and was very nervous around her. Nothing Jenny could do

about it, so she let him have his view. Mark informed the waiter that they

were done.

	"Very good, sir. And naturally, that will be on the house."

	"Naturally." said Mark. "You have given us very good service. I would

like to give you an especially good tip."

	The waiter bowed his head modestly.

	Mark continued. "You seem to admire the breasts of my slave there,

do you not?" Jennifer's eyes widened. The waiter looked at her chest and

nodded. "Well," said Mark. "Would you like to feel them? That will be your

tip."

	The waiter looked a bit taken aback with this offer, but he looked at

Jennifer's breasts and smiled. "Oh, yes, sir. Thank you."

	Mark looked at Jennifer. "Jenny, would you...?" Jenny opened her

mouth to protest, then thought better of it, looking at the waiter. Why not

let him have his fun? If he's gentle, then I might even enjoy it. She drew

in her breath, reached down, unbuttoned her blouse, and opened it.

	The man pressed his hands onto her chest, his palms aligned with her

nipples. His hands were cold, and Jennifer gasped a little to feel their

touch. Then he started to stroke her, moving his hands in circles over the

tips of her nipples, and the electricity she had felt before was repeated a

hundred fold. If I enjoy this, I may never be able to resist Mark's control

again, Jennifer thought, but she couldn't help herself. The waiter stroked

her, working her breasts like a sculptor, and she arched her back, pressing

them against his hands. She closed her eyes, letting herself drift into the

sensation of the hands teasing and playing with her. Finally, she felt them

reluctantly from her, and she opened her eyes, coming back to the real

world. She realized her panties were very wet.

	"You must be a sculptor." she told the waiter, touching his hand.

"Thank you."

	He bowed his head. "It is easy to sculpt what is already beautiful,

madam." And he walked off.

	Mark was looking at her, intrigued. "You enjoyed that." he said.

Jennifer blushed and looked down, quickly rebuttoning her blouse. When

she peeked up again, Mark was grinning. "Good. Good." he said. Then he took

her by the hand and led her outside to where the limo awaited.

	They drove back in silence, and Mark released her back to her dorm,

once again brushing her lips with his and sending her on her way. Jennifer

had already walked through most of the dorm before she realized she was

still wearing the sheer blouse. She hadn't noticed if anyone else had been

staring at her; she thought probably they had been. It was late, but not

very late, and Darlene was probably still up, so Jennifer went instead to

the bathroom, where she closed the door, sat on the seat, and tried to

come to grips with her confusing emotions and desires.

	

	

	To be continued



written and produced by Daniel Reinker

comments to dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu

Occidental college neither supports nor discourages this story

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