“Bro, is that true?”
“Eh?” Seb took out his earbuds and turned around. “Sorry, what?”
His roommate, Ben, leaned forward, almost tipping over his chair in the process. “I said is it true that you made Chelsea Jaeger bark like a dog?”
“I’m tellin’ ya bro,” Ben’s friend, Phil, interjected as he cracked open a beer. “I saw the whole thing. Made her get on all fours’n everything.”
Seb cringed. It was bad enough that Ben had decided to do his pregame drinking in their cramped dorm room, but now his “bro” was confirming Seb’s worst fear: the rumors about the variety show were spreading. And it hadn’t even taken two days.
“Bro, that’s fuckin’ badass!” Ben slapped his forehead. “Why don’t you tell me this shit?”
“W-well, that’s not exactly how it happened,” Seb replied.
“So…” Ben gestured eagerly for Seb to continue. “What happened then?”
“Eh, well…” Honestly, Seb still wasn’t sure himself. He had run off the stage to find Sophia as soon as his act had ended, but she was gone without a trace. By the time he got back to the dining hall, Chelsea had exited too, leaving Miki the sole outside observer. And she was not happy with Seb. To her, it looked like he had taken advantage of Chelsea for his own perverse gratification. Seb spent the rest of the night apologizing and explaining that it wasn’t like that, that it was impossible to hypnotize somebody into doing something they didn’t want to do. And anyway:
“Chelsea was probably just pretending to be hypnotized,” Seb shrugged. “I’m pretty sure she only volunteered to mess with me.”
“Huh,” Phil scratched his head. “You sure?”
“Bro,” Ben slapped Phil’s shoulder. “That chick’s always playin’ these fucked up head games. I know this one dude who pissed her off in high school? She pretended to date him for like, a month just so she could break up with him in front of his family. On Christmas. And she kept the gift card he got her too.”
“Bro…” Phil whispered in awe.
Seb chuckled weakly and turned back to his work. But it was no use now: his mind was running on overdrive. Was Chelsea playing some long game to set up his downfall? If she was, it was a mystery to him what she hoped to gain. Plus, he had felt something happen that night. Seb wasn’t sure what, but it wasn’t like his other attempts at hypnotism. It felt different.
He sighed and put his earbuds back in. Regardless, it was probably true that he was in Chelsea’s crosshairs now. Hopefully he could avoid her until things cooled off between them.
A knock at the door pulled him out of his anxious cloud.
“Oh shit, hide the beer!” Phil exclaimed.
“Nah bro, the R.A.’s cool,” Ben reassured him.
Seb got up and opened the door, expecting their R.A. to barge in and join the party. Instead, greeting him on the other side was a pretty, but all-too-familiar face.
“Hey,” Chelsea said, sending a bolt of ice down his spine.
A startled “Oh shit” escaped Ben before he quickly clamped his mouth shut. Chelsea shot a glare at the offending roommate before training her gaze on Seb.
“I assume you’re not going to the football game, right?” she said.
“Um. No. Why do you—”
“Good. Then ditch the brodown, grab your coat, and meet me outside. There’s something we need to talk about.”
Seb stiffened. “I-if this is about Thursday,” he whispered, careful not to let the other guys hear. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry and—”
“I said there’s something we need to talk about,” Chelsea hissed, her eyes narrowing. “Alone.”
“Whoa,” Seb couldn’t help but gape as Chelsea led him into her apartment. It was a far cry from the dorms the other sophomores were stuck with. A fully stocked kitchen looked out at an expansive common room, complete with chic furniture, a T.V. almost the size of the wall, and a gorgeous view of the campus below. It was obvious that the four girls living here were used to looking down on the rest of the student body. It was also obvious that they had just finished some pregame rituals of their own: the tables were littered with half-empty liquor bottles, and Seb could identify the red-cup remnants of at least a three different drinking games.
“Feel free to help yourself to whatever,” Chelsea said as she slipped out of her coat. “Veronica’s mom replaces it every week anyway.”
“Um, thanks,” Seb nodded, at a lost among the high-class detritus. “Can I, uh, get you anything?”
Chelsea frowned. “No thanks. I want my head clear for what happens next.”
Seb paused. He hadn’t noticed it before thanks to her coat, but Chelsea was dressed awfully nice. A tight skirt was wrapped around her legs, complimented by thigh-high stockings and a blouse with just the right number of buttons undone. If he didn’t know any better, Seb would say she was about to take him out on a date.
“So…what IS going to happen next?” he asked.
“You’re going to have a seat. And then you’re going to answer my questions honestly.” She crossed her arms. “I can make your life very miserable if you don’t.”
Seb swallowed. “Undoubtedly.”
“Okay.” Chelsea exhaled, then sat across from him. “What I want to know is…what exactly did you do to me during the variety show?”
Seb blinked, taken aback. “I, um, what do you mean?”
“I mean how did you convince me to act like a puppy on stage in front of everyone?”
Seb’s pulse quickened. It couldn’t be. Did he actually…? “Um, I-I didn’t know I ‘did’ anything to you. I thought you were acting.”
Chelsea let out a hollow laugh. “I wish.”
“Um. I guess I probably hypnotized you then, right? I mean, that was what I was trying to do.”
“That’s not it. I did some research after the show. There’s no way someone like you could’ve put me under with a single word like that. And you definitely shouldn’t have been able to, um,” she fidgeted, “to make me do things against my will. Hypnosis doesn’t work like that.”
“Then…what do you think happened?”
Chelsea hesitated. “I think…” she bit her lip. “I think you, like…mind-controlled me. Or something.”
There it was. The answer that Seb had forced himself not to consider. The impossible possibility that made too perfect sense to be true. Of course, there was a part of him that longed for that to be the case. What amateur hypnotist wouldn’t want to be able to control peoples’ minds? But reality didn’t work that way.
Chelsea’s anxious gaze brought Seb back to the present. For the first time, he realized she looked just as nervous as he did. He cleared his throat. “Okay. Mind control. That’s. That’s a possibility. I guess.”
“So, you’d never done something like that before,” she intuited.
Seb let out a shaky laugh. “N-not that I’m aware of.”
Chelsea looked down. “Do you think…” her voice trailed off.
She crossed her legs. “Do you think…you could do it again?”
“Let me get this straight: you want me to try and…take control of you?” Seb asked, anxiously swiveling back and forth on Chelsea’s desk chair. The two of them were in her room now, behind a door that Seb couldn’t help but notice she locked.
She sat on the bed across from him now, smoothing the soft, floral-print comforter with her hands. “Y-yeah. I mean, that’s the only way we’re going to figure all this out, right? Think of it as a science experiment. Or something.”
“Uh huh.” If Seb was a scientist, this was not his idea of a laboratory. He could count the number of girls’ rooms he’d been in on one hand, and they never got any more comfortable for him. The intimate atmosphere felt like it magnified every sound and gesture, making them heavy and cumbersome with meaning.
Or maybe he was overthinking things. Seb did that when he was nervous.
It was a little surprising to discover that Chelsea wasn’t the neat freak he assumed she was. Her desk was a mess of textbooks and loose papers, her floor littered with piles of clothes arranged according to a system he was sure only she could decipher. He guessed being a 4.0 student and queen of the social scene didn’t leave much time for cleaning.
“Do you, um,” Chelsea’s words snapped Seb back to the present. “Do you remember how you did it the first time?”
“Sort of?” Seb crossed his arms, trying to replay the events in his head. “It was like…this part of my brain opened, and this wave of power just came rushing down through me. And then my voice got all…I dunno…”
“Compelling,” Chelsea finished, then looked away when Seb’s gaze met hers. “D-do you remember what caused this change?” she stuttered.
Seb hesitated. What was he supposed to say? That the sudden reappearance of his childhood friend had caused him to snap? That the first girl he fell in love with, a girl he once thought he would spend the rest of his life with, had for some reason shown up at a school she didn’t even go to, stumbled into his pathetic hypnosis show, and inspired him to discover secret mind control abilities?
No. He couldn’t tell Chelsea that. But that didn’t mean he was without an answer. “I don’t know if there was a specific trigger,” he said. “But I do remember what I was feeling at the time.”
Chelsea leaned forward. “What?”
“Focus. And clarity. And above all else…desire.” Seb felt heat rise to his face, but noted with some satisfaction that his subject suffered the same reaction. She fiddled with the hem of her blouse, sitting in flustered silence for a moment before she spoke again.
“Th-that settles it then,” she cleared her throat. “I’ll give you a challenge. You try to get me to do something I normally wouldn’t do, and I’ll try to resist it. And we’ll, um, see what happens.”
Seb stiffened, the possibilities flashing through his mind for a brief moment. But if he wanted the best chances of success, he should approach this like a real hypnosis session, and let the subject set the terms. “Do you have a specific, uh, thing you want me to make you do?”
“Well, it should be something that you, um, desire, right?” she gripped the sheets, thinking. “How about this: if you…if you can get me to strip naked right here, right now, you win. But you’re no allowed to touch me!” She quickly added. “You’re only allowed to, to, um, talk to me, okay?”
Seb folded his legs onto the chair, wondering if Chelsea had noticed he was already hard at the thought of her naked standing before him. He took a deep breath, anxiety and anticipation colliding with every beat of his heart. The mysterious feelings were beginning to stir in the back of his mind again, the dark, hungry waters pressing against the floodgates. Aching to be released.
“Yeah, I…think I can work with that,” he said.
“Compelling,” Chelsea finished Seb’s sentence for him, instantly regretting it the moment the word left her lips.
But it was true, wasn’t it? In all the time she spent thinking about that night, she couldn’t find a better way of describing the sound of Seb’s other voice. It wasn’t coercive, or coaxing, or even controlling. It simply stated truths: inescapable, undeniable, utterly compelling truths. Truths that flowed effortlessly into Chelsea’s brain, flooding her mind, enveloping and dissolving her thoughts until following Seb’s commands felt as easy and natural as water is wet.
Easy. Natural. Wet. “D-do you remember what caused this change?” she asked.
Seb ran his fingers though his hair. “It don’t know if there was a specific trigger. But I do remember what I was feeling at the time.”
“Focus. And clarity. And above all else…desire.”
Chelsea felt the color rising to her cheeks. What did he mean by that? That night, did he desire to put on a good show? To get back at Chelsea for embarrassing him? Or…or could it be that he actually desired…
Chelsea shivered. God, this was unbearable. It was like he was already in her head, and he wasn’t even trying. She had to get a grip. She was Chelsea Jaeger, dammit—she’d never lost her cool over a guy before, and she wasn’t going to start now. “Th-that settles it then,” she said, trying to reassert command of the conversation. “I’ll give you a challenge. You try to get me to do something I normally wouldn’t do, and I’ll try to resist it. And we’ll, um, see what happens.”
Something flashed behind Seb’s dark, thoughtful eyes. But as soon as she caught a glimpse of it, it was gone, like a glittering fish disappearing back into the depths. “Do you have a specific, uh, thing you want me to make you do?”
“Well…it should be something you desire, right?” Crap. A million horrible, delectable thoughts crashed through Chelsea’s mind. It didn’t help that she was sitting right where she had spent her entire Friday night, rubbing her brains out as she imagined Seb doing the same with his voice. The more she had tried to plot the best course of action, the further she spiraled into sordid, humiliating fantasies. And the worst part was, she had no way of knowing if those thoughts were themselves subtly planted by Seb during the show. What if this was part of his plan all along? What if he meant to entice her with a brief glimpse of his power, then let her stew in a fog of arousal until she came crawling back to him? She could be doing his bidding without even knowing it, brainwashing herself with dreams of being on her knees before him, a sloppy smile on her face, head filled only with thoughts of pleasure and obedience, pussy and mouth drooling for his...
Shit. Chelsea bunched the sheets in her fists, fighting the yearning inside of her. She couldn’t give into temptation: she had to stick to the plan. She already had a challenge in mind when she woke up this morning, something to entice Seb without surrendering her pride entirely. “How about this: if you…if you can get me to strip naked right here, right now, you win. But you’re no allowed to touch me!” She quickly added. “You’re only allowed to, to, um, talk to me, okay?”
That should be adequate. She had noticed the way his eyes had been clinging to her—how he had watched the sway of her hips and glimpsed the hint of cleavage peeking from her blouse. Heck, the mere suggestion of a full-frontal showcase had been enough to produce a prominent bulge between his legs, evidence which he tried and failed to hide. All by design.
“Yes, I…think I can work with that,” Seb said before closing his eyes.
Chelsea adjusted her position on the bed, squaring up and adopting what she hoped was a defiant pose. Even if this was her idea, she wasn’t going to give in just like that. It was still possible that the variety show was a fluke; it was possible that Seb wouldn’t be able to break her. That would be a victory in itself: it would prove that she was still a Jaeger. That all the high expectations and hard lessons of her childhood weren’t for nothing. That—
“Take off your clothes,” Seb commanded.
The words cascaded through Chelsea like a tidal wave. She felt her hands go to her blouse, ripping a couple buttons free before she was able to stop herself.
“You stopped,” Seb raised his eyebrows.
Chelsea blinked, her sense of balance returning. “Uh, yeah, I did.” She exhaled, not sure if she should be proud or disappointed. She was definitely showing more than a hint of cleavage now, but her clothes had stayed on. Which meant she had won. Right?
“How did that feel?” Seb asked.
“It was…different, I think,” she answered. “It didn’t, like, make me go all space-y like before, but I definitely felt…something.”
Seb thought for a moment. “Take off your clothes.”
Chelsea’s hands jerked up to her blouse again, but her strength returned faster this time, allowing her to resist before she disrobed further.
“You recovered quicker that time,” Seb observed. “Like you were ready for it.”
“Y-yeah,” Chelsea muttered. Goddammit. Why didn’t he look more concerned? The Seb she was speaking to just moments ago would be a puddle of nerves by now. So why were the eyes surveying her so cool and calculating?
And why did it make her heart beat faster?
“Hm. Interesting,” he mused. “So far we’ve proven that I have some sort of preternatural power of suggestion, but it’s not as simple as flipping a switch on your brain. Maybe it works like hypnosis. At the variety show, it could be that I created an effect similar to a shock induction: overloading your senses so you had no choice but to follow my command into trance. But here, you’re expecting it, so it doesn’t work as well.”
“Sure, that sounds…right.” Chelsea’s eyes narrowed. Seb was speaking academically, but she saw that glint in his gaze again. This wasn’t empty hypothesizing: this was a blade being sharpened.
“This also shows that my suggestions can be resisted by a subject’s willpower. And I bet someone as smart and confident as you has pretty high mental resilience.”
“Thanks,” Chelsea crossed her arms, allowing herself a confident smirk. “But flattery will get you nowhere. I’ve cut down plenty of guys who thought they could sweet talk me out of my clothes.”
To her surprise, Seb returned the smile. “But what if I tried a different strategy?”
Chelsea’s pulse skipped a beat. “Uh…y-you can try…but…”
“What if I tried something a bit more subtle? A bit more soothing? A bit more like a progressive induction?”
“P-progressive…?” This was weird. She wasn’t used to the voice being so conversational. She felt like she should answer back, but…was that what he wanted? Shouldn’t she be resisting what he wanted? The conflict made her dizzy.
“It’s okay. These are rhetorical questions, Chelsea. You don’t have to answer me. You don’t have to think too hard. You can just relax and listen.”
Relax and listen. That was okay…right? There was no harm in just listening.
“It feels good to listen doesn’t it?”
“There, see? I can tell it does. My voice makes you feel so good. So relaxed.”
Chelsea’s arms slipped to her sides. Seb was right. His voice did make her feel good. And she was feeling very relaxed.
No. Wait. This was a trap, wasn’t it? She should fight. But fight what? He didn’t give her a command, he was just…just…
“What’s great about relaxing and listening is that it’s so easy and natural. Your body just does it automatically, without you even having to think about it. You can just let your mind wander, let all the stress and strain of the day just drain out of you. It’s as easy as breathing in and out. More and more relaxed with each inhale and exhale.”
A long, involuntary sigh escaped Chelsea. It was just like Seb said. With every exhale, her muscles loosened, releasing the tension they been storing up. And each time she inhaled, she could feel the relaxation floating into her, making her thoughts languid and airy.
“That’s right. In and out. Just relax and listen.”
Relax and listen.
“It feels good to relax and listen.”
Chelsea’s eyelids fluttered. It felt so, so good to relax and listen.
“It feels good to relax and listen and obey.”
Huh? That didn’t seem…right. But that’s what she was doing, wasn’t it? Relaxing, listening and…and…
“Say it with me Chelsea: it feels good to relax and listen and…”
Chlesea exhaled, the final word reverberating from deep inside her chest. “Obey.”
“That’s right. It feels good to relax and listen and obey. You like to feel good don’t you?”
Yes. God, yes.
“It makes sense then that you also like to relax and listen to my voice, right?”
It was too hard to think of a reason why not.
“And that must mean you also like to obey.”
Wait. That wasn’t…no, there was something wrong there. She couldn’t argue that it felt good but...liking to obey…that didn’t sound like her. That wasn’t who she was. Was it?
“You’re a very logical girl, aren’t you, Chelsea?”
Huh? Where did that come from? She couldn’t deny it was true, but…
“I know it’s very hard to think for you right now, but since you’re a very logical girl, so I know you can figure this out. Follow me now: it’s true that it feels good to relax and listen and obey. You like to relax and listen. Therefore, you must also like to…”
“Obey,” the word came out easier this time. Chelsea was a very logical girl after all.
“Very good. See, doesn’t that feel nice?”
Chelsea beamed and bobbed her head, shaking the happy bubbles in her brain.
“You’re doing so well. Now say it out loud: you like to obey.”
Chelsea sighed dreamily. “I like to obey.”
“You love to obey.”
“I love to obey.”
“Do you know why?”
Chelsea’s brow furrowed. Huh? Didn’t they just…weren’t they just talking about…
“It’s a rhetorical question, Chelsea, remember? You don’t have to answer. You don’t have to think. You just have to obey. Because obeying feels so, so good.”
Oohhh, that’s right. She didn’t have to think. She just had to…had to obey. And she loved to obey. It was only logical. And easy. Like breathing. Easy and natural.
“And do you know why obeying me makes you feel so nice? So relaxed and happy?”
She couldn’t wait for Seb to tell her.
“Because I am your Master.”
“Master…” Chelsea shivered as she repeated the word. She couldn’t help herself—it was such a perfect word. So powerful, so true. Everything made wonderful sense now.
Because Seb was her Master.
“Because I am your Master,” Seb stated.
His subject shivered, her lips repeating the phrase absently. “Master.”
A jolt of excitement raced through Seb’s body. He had done it: he had convinced Chelsea to surrender. Now her once defiant gaze was glazed over with blissful adoration, her mouth hanging open in vacant anticipation. No doubt her brain was swimming in the pleasure and submission Seb had spent the last ten minutes pouring into her.
Seb closed his eyes, taking a moment to steady himself. Truth be told, he was feeling a little groggy too. It took an intense amount of concentration to maintain his Voice, a focus that blocked out everything else but his immediate desires. In some ways, this was a blessing: he didn’t have the time or energy to get nervous or second-guess himself like he usually did.
But on the other hand, acting on instinct like this was new sensation for Seb. It was exhilarating, but something about it also felt…dangerous. Like at any moment he might get swept away by the very currents he was pulling Chelsea into.
No time to dwell on that now though: he had a challenge to win. “You’re still listening closely, aren’t you Chelsea? You can answer now.”
“Yes, Master. I’m listening.”
“You know that obeying me, pleasing me, makes you feel good. And the more you please me, the better you feel.”
Chelsea let out a small moan as she shifted her weight on her hips. “Yes, Master.”
Seb moved his leg aside, making sure Chelsea could see the erection straining against his jeans.
“You can see how much you’re already pleasing me, can’t you?”
Her breath caught, as though the mere suggestion of his hard cock had sent a wave of arousal through her. “Yes, Master,” she murmured.
“Then imagine how pleased I will be when you strip naked at the snap of my fingers. Right now.”
Chelsea rose to her feet in an instant. She pulled open the few remaining buttons on her blouse before fumbling out of it, her unsteady movements caught between the heaviness of the trance and her newfound need to obey.
Her bra was next to go, her breasts jiggling as she threw the item away and bent over to peel off her stockings and skirt. Seb noticed with some intrigue that she was wearing black lace panties underneath, a soft, dainty item with tiny ribbons of red, like a present waiting to be unwrapped.
Had she expected things to go this way? The choice of underwear implied as much. Seb wanted to be flattered, but another part of him—the part that spoke with the Voice—was annoyed at having his sense of control subverted.
Fortunately, his subject seemed unaware of his inner conflict. She hooked her fingers into the thin elastic without a second thought, sliding the smooth fabric down her long, quivering legs and onto the floor. She took a step to the side and stood up straight, swaying delicately like a flower in the breeze.
Seb had done it. He had won.
And what a prize to behold: Chelsea Jaeger, destroyer of young men, standing dazed and obedient, fully exposed for his appraisal; her pert breasts pushed forward; her nipples erect and at attention; the smooth curve of her hips flowing into long legs of softest white. And between them, a glistening offering that Seb had doubted more than one or two men had ever received.
Seb raised his hand, ready to snap his fingers and wake Chelsea out of her trance. To see her turn scarlet with embarrassment, to know that he had bested her with a power he could’ve never even dreamed of wielding—that was enough triumph for one day.
And yet, his hand hesitated.
The dark waters within him were restless, their longing waves pushing him onwards, demanding more. The Voice inside was saying that this was not victory. Not yet. He had merely played according to Chelsea’s rules—true triumph was found in ruling others.
“Very g-good Chelsea,” Seb said, hoping to stall his own growing inclinations. “You’re being a very g-good girl.”
The word caused Chelsea’s entire body to quiver. Her head titled slightly upwards, her eyes fluttering with ecstasy. “Thank you, Master,” she breathed.
Seb tried to calm himself. To think rationally. But the longer he stared at his slave—no, subject, subject—the stronger the currents within him became. Her breathing was shallow and longing; her face flushed with desperate arousal; even standing, she made sure to keep her legs comfortably spread, her pussy practically dripping. The entirety of her being was open and available for Seb to use her.
Use her. Use her.
“Sit down Chelsea,” Seb commanded. She lowered herself back on the bed with a small moan, her tits bouncing slightly as she settled onto the mattress. The movement had apparently given her body an idea though: even as she stared back at Seb with docile, submissive patience, her hips began subtly rocking back and forth, rubbing her pussy on the sheets, leaving damp spots in its wake.
Seb bit his lip, forcing his feet to remain in place. He wasn’t going to touch her. That line he wouldn’t cross. But there was still a way to claim this moment as his. Hopefully that would be enough.
“You’re feeling very horny, aren’t you Chelsea?”
Chelsea’s mouth was barely able to form words in between husky breaths. “Yes. Master. Horny. So horny.”
“You know that your body longs for release. And you also know that nothing feels better than pleasing your Master. So when I snap my fingers next, you’re going to play with your body for me. I want you to bring yourself to the edge of climax, and then I want you to beg your Master to cum. Like a good girl should. And you want to be a good girl, don’t you Chelsea?”
Chelsea gripped the mattress tight. “Want to…be a good girl…” She doubled over with need, tits shaking as she continued to fruitlessly hump the mattress. “Want to…need to…”
Seb’s subject let out a tiny squeal of delight, her hand flying between her legs as her eyes rolled back in ecstasy. Her entire body was in carnal motion, her legs spread wide, her free hand kneading her breast, her hips swaying in time with the gasps and moans of pleasure leaking from her lips. One look at her, and Seb could tell that she was truly lost: that he had taken his scheming opponent and reduced her to an empty vessel of lust and submission. All with the power of his Voice.
His Voice. His Voice. His Voice was telling him she was helpless. She was his. His Voice didn’t want to be quiet. It wanted more. More.
The vibrations of Seb’s phone on the desk snapped his attention away from the display in front of him. He went to silence the device, annoyed, only for the caller ID to stop him in his tracks.
Sophia was calling him.
Seb stared in disbelief, the churning waters inside of him suddenly frozen with shock and dread. He shouldn’t answer. Should he? But if he didn’t, who knows when she would call again? It had already been two years—this could be his only chance to get answers about the night of the variety show.
And…about that other night too.
“H-hello?” Seb said, scooping the phone to his ear.
“Uh, hey, Seb,” Sophia’s soft voice answered.
“M-master,” Chelsea moaned behind him.
“H-hey Sophia!” Seb exclaimed quickly, walking to where he hoped was out of audio range of the brainless, masturbating girl on the bed. “It’s uh, it’s been a while. It’s good to hear your voice.”
“Um. Yeah. Same to you too.” Sophia paused. Seb could almost picture her expression, the cute pout her lips did whenever she was thinking of something to say. “I a-actually was at your, um, your show a couple nights ago.”
“Oh, that was you. Huh. I, uh, th-thought I—“
“Yeah, I think you—“
“No, sorry, you go.”
Chelsea gasped. “Master p-please. I n-need to…need to…”
Seb shot a look over his shoulder and nearly had a heart attack. Chelsea had slid off the bed and was on her knees now, one hand propping her up, the other still furiously edging her pussy into oblivion. Her entire body shook. Drool hung from her open mouth.
“You, um” Seb began. But the words died in his throat.
Sophia sighed. “I just wanted to say I was sorry for, um, disappearing from the show like that. I meant to come talk to you but, when I saw you noticed me, I…kinda freaked out and ran. I feel really bad about it.”
“Th-that’s okay,” Seb said, hoping Chelsea would focus her eyes long enough to see him mouth “cum for me,” at her.
“A-anyway,” Sophia continued. “Uh, one of the things I was going to tell you was that I-I actually transferred here to Diepner U. So, um. If you ever wanted to, you know…hang out or catch up…”
“Oh, y-yeah, totally!”
“Great. Um.” Sophia paused. “I’ll text you?”
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
Beep. The call disconnected.
Seb lowered the phone, shell-shocked by what just happened. After being apart for so long, he and Sophia were now schoolmates. And what’s more, she wanted to meet with him. Why? After what they’d been through…after what he’d said to her…why would she suddenly…
““M-master, I-I neeeeed t-to-to…”
Oh crap. That’s right. “Cum for me,” Seb ordered.
He didn’t even need the Voice; Chelsea came with a scream.