Chronicles Of An Academic Predator - 18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

August 18, 1962

Chicago, IL

I’d lost track of how many times we’d made love. It was constant, with one of us waking up in the night and then waking up the other, and so on. By morning, we were both almost more exhausted than when we went to sleep. But sleep and sex had ceased to be our primary motivation: instead it had shifted to food.

I decided to take André up to campus to see my office. It was a beautiful summer day in Chicago, where the August weather made it warm but not too hot, and the humidity wasn’t high enough to make it sticky like Claremont sometimes got. On top of that, the rain had cleared away the industrial pollution and grime and left everything smelling fresh, while the buildings glistened in the sun. We ate breakfast at a pastry shop near the condo, then decided to walk up to Northwestern. It reminded me a bit of our walk through Paris when we first got there.

“So when do you have to go back?” I asked, raising the issue, the one that had plagued my mind all night. We’d shifted seamlessly to speaking French, something we generally did when we were in public. It let us have a level of intimacy and privacy that we wouldn’t have if we spoke English.

“I need to leave on Monday. I have to report in on Tuesday morning.” The news was depressing, but the tone in his voice, the knowledge that he was as sad about leaving as I was about his going, made it a little easier.

“Where are they sending you?” This was a big deal, since there were some spots that were very dangerous, and others that were considerably safer.

He paused to reflect. “Well, they haven't told me exactly, but my CO told me that there was an opening in Brussels. That's where NATO is headquartered, and the fact that I speak fluent French is a big plus.”

“Just don't go to Southeast Asia,” I said. Vietnam had become my latest research project in my continuing focus on French decolonization, and it wasn't pretty. I had a lot of confidence in the President, so I didn't see him getting us too embroiled in that mess. That didn’t mean we wouldn’t have a military presence there, and for the guys that got sent there, it was dangerous duty, and I didn't want to see André risking his life in a jungle.

“Don't have much choice babe. I go where they send me,” he said fatalistically, reminding me that his life was not his own. “The good news is that it's only for three years, and then I get to come home.”

“Home,” I said, with a longing and a bit of a question too, wondering what city he would call home.

He read my mind. “Home to Chicago.” I felt my heart, my emotions soar. Small waves danced on the Lake to my left, and the light winds felt refreshing and cool, all enhancing this feeling of Nirvana that welled up inside of me. He considered this to be his home, but did that mean that when he came back here, we’d be a couple?

“André, I love you more than anything. I would do anything for you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” I said.

“I love you too, baby,” he said, as if he were trying to forestall my logical mind from raising the other issues.

“I can't give you the American Dream,” I said sadly. “You’re giving up the kids, the country club membership, and the social standing. You have to think long and hard about that.”

“I think I have long and hard down,” he joked, but I didn't laugh. This was serious shit, and a core issue. I loved him completely, and that meant I couldn’t handle him playing me. I needed him to deal with these challenges so they didn’t become deal-killers later.

“Look, JP, I've never been happier with someone than I am with you. A small part of me wishes you were a chick, but then the rest of me remembers that I love you, dick and all, and that's what's important. I don't need parties, and I don't need kids. And if I do, maybe we can adopt, who knows?”

I beamed up at him. “I needed to hear that, to make sure that this was what you wanted. I know it's what I want, but your happiness is important to me.”

He slowed his pace a bit. “So if we're a couple, does this mean you want to be exclusive, to only be with each other?”

The topic we dodged last night still needed to be addressed, but I was really uncomfortable taking the lead. “Is that what you want?” I asked.

“I asked you first,” he chided.

He was forcing me to put myself out there first, but for André, I’d do that. We walked along while I carefully organized my thoughts. “If you were living here then I'd say yes, because you're all I need. Period. But with you gone, I don't know that I want to put a bunch of restraints on either one of us. I mean, then if you get horny and sleep with someone, you'll feel guilty, and there will be this huge issue to deal with. If I do, it will be the same way.”

“So you don't care if I fuck around with other people when I'm gone?” That made me laugh. Here I am, all technical and detailed, and he sums it up in one crass sentence.

“No. Do you care if I do?” Actually, I did care, but saying that now wouldn't help either of us.

We walked along while he thought about our situation. “I guess it kind of bothers me, but I agree with you. If I don't have to worry about hurting you, then it will make things easier on both of us. I've had jealous girlfriends before, and there's nothing worse than that.”

“Now, if you run away and fall in love with someone else, I will track you down and make sure you can't have children even if you want to.” He laughed at my joke, while I wondered if it really was a joke.

He was impressed with my office. We sat on the couch, talking about Jensen and his bullshit. “You should take the creep out, JP,” André said. As if on cue, the phone rang.

“JP Crampton,” I answered.

“Write this number down: 923-4774. You got it?” The voice was gruff and hoarse, with a distinctly Chicago accent.

I jotted the number down, just as he’d demanded. “Got it.”

“Call that number from a pay phone at 3pm. Do not give your name or any information about yourself.” And then the caller hung up.

“Who was that?” asked André.

“You probably don't want to know,” I said. He looked at me funny, and I was worried I'd hurt his feelings.

He shrugged his shoulders in such a calm, masculine way that fired up my libido all over again. “If you say so.”

“You know, before we walk back, I was thinking that maybe we could christen my office.” I winked at him.

“You slut,” he said as he stood up and unbuckled his pants. Twenty minutes later found us both flushed from the effort and rush of great sex, walking back south toward the condo. We stopped when we were close to the condo for a late lunch.

I’d been surreptitiously monitoring the time as we ate, and just as we were finishing up our late lunch, I looked at my watch. Almost 3pm. “I have to make a quick phone call,” I said to André. “I'll be right back.” He just nodded and focused on eating the rest of his lunch.

I found a pay phone in the back of the restaurant and dialed the number I'd been given. It only rang once. “I know what you want, and I can do it,” said the voice. It was the same guy.

“Good. What do you need from me then?” This was all very strange, but I figured that getting to the point was a good way to kick things off.

“First the rules. You don't know me, you won't see me, you won't call me from anywhere other than a pay phone, and when this is all over, you will tear up the paper with the phone number on it. Got it?” The guy said this with his deep, almost gangster voice.

“Got it.” I replied. I got the feeling this guy wasn't into small talk.

“It's going to cost you $1000, $400 up front and $600 when the job is done.”

“That’s fine,” I said

“Meet me in the men's room on the 7^th floor of the Wrigley building at 5pm tonight. Go in through the side door, it's always open. I'll be in one of the stalls. You go in the other one. I'll be wearing shoes with a star on the toe. Slide the money under the stall, and then wait for me to leave. Count to ten, and then you leave. You don't follow my instructions, I don't do the job, and I keep the $400 for my efforts.” Then he hung up.

Well, this was going to be difficult with André around. I wasn't sure how to explain this to him. I got back to the table where he was happily finishing up his lunch.

“I've got to go downtown and meet someone at 5pm.” I told him, hoping I'd get lucky and he wouldn't ask any questions.

“What for?” he asked, indicating that luck was not on my side.

“Remember how you told me that I should take care of that creep Jensen?” I asked in French, and even then I kept my voice low.

“Yeah,” he said.

“I need to meet someone who's going to help me. Trust me on this André; you don't want to know more than that.” I was going to have to deal with some pretty unsavory people, and I didn’t want him to get his hands dirty.

He looked at me, about to push the issue, and then he decided not to. “That’s fine. It works out pretty well, since I’m pretty tired. I think that while you go do that, I'll take a nap.”

“Rest up,” I said. I smiled at him, conveying my appreciation for his understanding, and hopefully my love for him too. An hour later found me heading for the El station, a little nervous because I had $400 in an envelope stuffed in my pants. Installing that safe in my condo had turned out to be a smart thing, and also a convenient one, since I always kept a bunch of cash in it.

I got to the Wrigley building and found the front doors locked, just as my helper told me. The side door was open though, so I went in and I took the elevator up to the 7^th floor, just as I’d been instructed. I got there and looked at my watch, and found it was only 4:45pm. I’d made better time than I’d planned. I decided to go ahead and go into the bathroom.

I saw his shoes with the stars on them in one of the stalls, so I sat in the next stall. He was evidently early as well. “You're early,” he grumbled.

“Well, I didn't want to wait around outside. If you were on time I would have seen you then, now wouldn't I?” I was getting a little testy at being bossed around.

“Good thinking. Pass the package under the stall. Call me on Friday. 3pm.” I passed it under, and as soon as it was slightly on his side he snatched it out of my hand, got up, and left. I counted to ten, plus a little, then walked out with no problems and went home.

August 20, 1962

The train station loomed up in front of us, and once again I found myself saying goodbye to André. It was almost more painful this time. The weekend had been idyllic. We had bonded like we never had before, and the sex was incredible. I didn't realize how adventurous André was. He fucked me in damn near every room in the condo, and in damn near every conceivable position. I think it stunned him that I was so willing since he was so used to women, and how they were always limiting him, worried about their “honor.” I had no such qualms, and I let him fuck me whenever and wherever he wanted. I loved every minute of it.

“Well, babe, this is goodbye again,” he said as he looked at me with tears in his eyes. Seeing his tears made mine start to flow too. We hugged for a long time, as if neither one of us could stand to let go.

“Call me and tell me where they send you. If you get leave, let me know and I'll come meet you.” He pulled away from me.

“You mean you'd fly to Brussels for a weekend?” He just didn't get it.

“André, I'd fly to Timbuktu to spend an hour with you.” He hugged me one more time, jumped out of the car, grabbed his duffel bag, and then he was gone. Again.

I was going to spend the day sulking in my condo, but I remembered that I’d promised Jason that I'd take him to lunch. It was just as well, since otherwise I'd just stay at home and make myself miserable. Besides, I liked Jason, and I wanted to get to know him better. Lucky for me he was so dorky, and I was so fucked out, I wouldn't be tempted to hit on him. That made me giggle, and was the first step in me working my way out of my horrible mood.

I walked into the department and headed to my office. As I approached, I noticed two figures standing off to the side. One was Scott Mallory, and the other was Jason. Scott had Jason backed against the wall, and was in his face. “Look you little shit,” Scott was saying, “you do what I tell you to do or I'll kick your ass from here to Nebraska.”

“Mr. Mallory, a word with you in my office.” Both of them froze, and Scott looked horrified. He followed me reluctantly to my office. I motioned for him to sit down in one of the chairs. I stared at him coldly, making him nervous enough to speak.

“You wanted to see me?” he asked.

“Initially I was trying to decide whether you should play football this year, but now I'm wondering whether or not you should even stay at this University.” He looked at me, first with fear, then with defiance.

“You can't kick me out of school,” he said.

“I can’t?” I asked, looking at him coldly.

“And you can't kick me off the football team either,” he said, with a little less firmness.

“I can’t?” I asked again. I just stared at him. He wasn't too bright, and he certainly was no match for me.

His confidence withered under my gaze. “I'm really sorry I was picking on Jason. I promise it won't happen again.”

“That's not good enough. This is the second time I've caught you bullying someone. The first time I experienced your charm personally. Didn’t Coach Davis talk to you about that?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled.

“I guess you don’t really need to listen to him,” I said sarcastically. “I’m sure he’d be thrilled to find out you completely ignored him.”

“You’re right, he’d be pissed,” he said. Now he was acting dejected and defeated, hoping I’d have mercy on him. His games, his attempts to play with my mind, were feeble.

“I wonder what he’d say if he found out you told Dr. Jensen that he was trying to buy me off to pass the players in my history class. That was a major ethical violation you threw at both of us, and I haven't even mentioned that to him. Yet.” Now he was shitting bricks.

“I didn't say nothing to Dr. Jensen about you and Coach Davis.” He said, but he was lying. It was easy to read it in his eyes.

“You think he’d believe that?” I challenged, only I could tell that wasn’t enough, so I decided to try bluffing him. “Besides, I have proof that you did.” Now he was really starting to lose it. Sweat was glistening on his forehead as his fear combined with frustration.

He sighed, a sure sign that he had given up, even if he hadn’t formally admitted it yet. “Dr. Crampton, I know I've been an asshole. What can I do to make it up to you? Football is my life. I don't want to get kicked off the team.” And with that, I’d finally broken him.

“I'll make you a deal, Mallory. You love torturing other people. Well, if you want to stay here, and you want to play football, this semester you're going to be the victim.”

His eyes got wide. “What do you mean?”

“First of all, when you see Jason, you will address him as ‘sir’ and do anything he asks you to do. Anything. Second, once or twice a week, or whenever I want, you will come over to my place and do whatever I say. Anything I say.” He looked at me like someone would look at a snake oil salesman.

“What kind of stuff are you gonna make me do?” He wanted ground rules.

“Whatever I want.”

“You're not gonna make me do queer shit are you?” he asked. He figured I'd say no.

“Absolutely. I'm gonna make you suck my dick, then I'm gonna pound your ass.” My look remained calm, while he had the same freaked out expression on his face.

“No fucking way I'm doing that. No fucking way.” He was defiant again.

“That’s fine with me. I was hoping you’d say that,” I said.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“I don’t want you around,” I said coldly. “You can leave now, and you will no longer be welcome within the departmental offices. I will have that order issued within about fifteen minutes.”

“Like I want to be around here anyway,” he said, trying to get some of his self-confidence back.

“This afternoon, I’ll go down to the athletic department and speak with Coach Davis. I’ll tell him how you kept bullying people in our department after his warnings, and how you decided to make up lies to cause him and me academic ethical questions.” He swallowed hard at that. “I expect that Coach Davis will want to see you after that, so you may want to be at the athletic department around 3:00.”

“I’m not seeing that,” he said.

“Then by the end of this week, you’ll probably be asked to appear before the University disciplinary council. They will want a statement from you about your bullying.” I got up and walked to my desk, and he got up and left. I turned away from him so he couldn't see my smile.

Jason came in as soon as he left. “I'm sorry you had to get involved in that Dr. Crampton.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Jason. I hate bullies. I always have,” I told him calmly. “Now what was that all about?”

“I went out with Sarah a few times, and then she dumped me for Scott. I'm, well, I'm still in love with her. I know it's stupid, but I am. So we were talking the other day, and Scott saw us and got pissed off, accused me of hitting on her. I wasn't hitting on her. Then he came in this morning and cornered me. So I guess it's kind of my fault. I should just stay away from her.” He seemed despondent and pathetic. If I ever had any erotic thoughts about Jason in the future, I’d have to remember this moment, because that would be enough to make my dick limp.

“Look Jason, if you keep crawling up to her like that you'll never get her back. Why you'd want her is beyond me, but you sure as hell won't do it by being pathetic. Just ignore her.” It dawned on me that I was posturing myself as an expert on women, which was comical.

“Really? You think that will work?” He looked at me like I'd imparted the secrets of the ages, when it was just common sense.

“Well it's got to be better than chasing after her like a lost puppy, don't you think?” He nodded. “Let's go get lunch.” He nodded again and tagged along after me.

I was going to take him somewhere on campus, but I decided to go somewhere nicer. He got in the car, clearly impressed. “Nice car,” he said, running his hands over the dashboard.

“I had an accident this summer and had to get a new one,” I explained. “It's fun, but there’s not much room.”

“Well it’s a good tradeoff, giving up that space,” he said. That started an extended conversation about nothing in particular, and I was conscious that he was a very closed person just like me. Telling me about Sarah must have taxed him to the limit. His trust in me was really flattering.

“I want to thank you for telling me about Mallory and Jensen. Jensen's going to be an ongoing pain in the ass, so it's nice to know who his toadies are. Most important, though, was the loyalty you showed. I appreciated the fact that you were willing to trust me like that.” He beamed at me. I had been wondering if I had read him right. His reaction told me that I had.

“Dr. Jensen's a real asshole.” He grimaced at calling a senior faculty member that, but I just laughed.

“Something else we agree on,” I told him, hopefully easing his mind.

“All last year he tortured poor Dr. Adams. Then you showed up and he switched targets. Both of you are so smart, and the stuff you write is great, while his work is such crap. I think that's why he does it.” He was talking more to himself than me.

“You think he’s jealous of us?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, and seemed pretty sure about it.

“So was Sarah the reason you were involved with Jensen?”

“Yeah,” he said, and seemed to be surprised that I'd made such an easy connection. “She really likes him for some reason. He treated me OK because of that. Then when we broke up, he turned into a complete jerk.”

“Well, you work for me now, so you don't have to worry about him anymore. And you won’t have to worry about Mallory, either. I’ll have that problem handled this afternoon.” He just nodded and looked down.

“Thanks for the job. I really need the money. I'm on a scholarship, and the TA Stipend is what I live on. I need to get another job as well, probably something off campus.” His mind had wandered again. Money was obviously something that really troubled him.

“Think you can handle the work of two TAs?” I asked him.

He looked up at me wide-eyed. “Sure!”

“I'm allowed two TAs. Instead of getting another job, why don't you do double duty?”

He beamed at me. “That would just be incredible. I'd love that. You mean it?”

“No,” I teased. “It's just a big cruel joke. Of course I meant it. I'm going to bury you with work. Think you can handle it?”

“Bring it on!” he said. We drove back to campus, still chit-chatting. I liked him, but more importantly, by hiring him for double duty I'd only have to train and break in one person, not two.

When I got back, I found Scott Mallory sitting in my office. “I thought about it, and I think it's really fucked up, but I'll take the deal.” He said that bitterly, which was just fine with me.

“Here's my address. I'll see you tomorrow night at 7pm. You're late, and the deal is off.” He nodded and left.

August 21, 1962

I'd gone shopping to get a few things to make Mallory's life a living hell. I sat in my apartment, trying to figure out why I hated Scott Mallory in particular, and bullies in general. I really had no personal reasons to detest Mallory and his ilk, because I’d never been bullied. I lived in a world where using power was a fact of life, where those with more money and influence exerted it to get what they wanted. In a sense, bullying was the same thing. Yet somehow, using physical force seemed worse.

I focused my attention specifically on Mallory, trying to determine why he’d aroused such a strong reaction from me. It was entirely possible that I was transferring my animosity for Jensen to Mallory. It's not like Mallory wasn’t good looking, because he was. He was handsome in a Republican kind of way, with short brown hair, a square face, dark brown eyes, and a hulking body. Regardless, his smarmy ‘you should do what I want you to do’ attitude made me determined to bring him down a notch.

The doorbell rang, and I opened it up to find Scott standing there with a sullen look on his face. “Nice place” he said as he walked in. I just looked at him menacingly.

“Follow me,” I instructed, and led him to the guest bedroom. “Strip off your clothes and lie on the bed, on your back.” I stood there watching him while he stripped off his clothes. He was a hulk, with huge biceps and pecs, and abs that bulged when he bent over. His cock was small and limp, but that was probably mostly due to fear.

I pulled out a pair of handcuffs and locked one onto his left arm. “What the fuck?” he demanded.

“You can leave any time you want,” I said calmly, the threat audible in my voice. He glared at me then pushed his arms up. I wrapped the other cuff thorough the bars on the headboard and then attached it to his other wrist. Then I did the same thing with his legs. “Now we're going to see how queer you really are,” I said, running my hand up his hard thigh, watching his dick twitch as I touched his balls. He grunted in disgust.

I moved up his chest, licking his nipple, nibbling a little. I noticed his dick getting plumper. I moved up to his face and moved my lips to his. He turned his head away, avoiding the contact. “Gross,” he spat.

“You're not showing the proper respect, Mr. Mallory, so now you will be punished.” I stripped off all of my clothes and stood there, letting him watch me. I smirked when I noticed that his cock was getting harder still. “Look at you,” I said pointing at it. “Your dick is getting hard. You want me. You're a fucking faggot, Mallory. You want my dick.”

“Fuck you. I'm no faggot.” I opened the drawer in the nightstand and pulled out a pair of pliers. “You need to learn some respect.” I moved the pliers down his stomach, across his cock which was now fully hard. I made a point to rub them up and down his shaft as I studied it. He was about 6 inches long, and really thin. His cock looked like one of those hard, thin pretzels you see in German bakeries. I moved the pliers lower still, to his balls, and grabbed a chunk of his hair, hair attached to his testicles, then I yanked them out. He screamed.

“I can pluck every single one of the hairs on your balls, if you want. Think that will help you learn who's in charge?” His eyes were bulging as I moved the pliers back down for a second hunk.

“NO!” he yelled. “Fine, I'll do whatever you want.”

“That's better,” I said, as I moved up to kiss him. This time he kissed me back, and shocked the shit out of me, because he was a really good kisser, almost as good as Peter, and he really got into it. I moved my hand down to feel his cock, rock hard again, and slowly stroked it. He moaned through our kiss. “You like that don't you?” I asked him with a sneer. He just lay there, saying nothing. “Admit that you liked it!” I said loudly, and he just nodded at me.

“Not good enough, Mr. Mallory. I want you to tell me that you liked kissing me, and that you want to suck my dick.” He just looked at me, defiant again.

I reached into the nightstand drawer again and pulled out an electric razor. I plugged it in and turned it on. “What are you going to do to me?” he asked. “Let me go you sick bastard!”

“Tsk tsk tsk, Mr. Mallory. You still don't have that attitude down.” I held the razor down and shaved off a swath of his pubes. He looked funny with the bald streak.

“Stop fucking shaving me!” he yelled.

I just smiled and proceeded to shave his bush off. “If you move, the razor might cut you. I wouldn't risk it.” Then I moved down to his balls and shaved them completely too. “That may be a little hard to explain in the locker room. Shall I get the rest of your hair?” I moved the razor toward his armpits.

“I liked kissing you and I want to suck your dick,” he said with resignation. His dick was still at full mast.

I straddled him and pulled his head upright, lowering my dick onto his lips. “I feel a single tooth and you won't escape from here without some ugly scars.” I pushed my dick into his mouth and he wrapped his lips around it. I began moving in and out, then got more intent until I was fucking his face. He gagged from time to time, but he was doing a pretty good job for a supposedly straight boy. He was getting me pretty close, so I backed off. He looked up at me and I caught his eyes. He wanted it. He didn't want me to take my cock out of his mouth. I grinned at him, more of a sneer of disgust. I paused to wonder where all this animosity and cruelty was coming from. This really wasn't like me. It was disturbing to me that I was torturing this guy, and while I wasn’t really enjoying that part of very much, I really liked having him completely in my power, and at my mercy.

“Nice job, Mallory. You're a good cocksucker, aren't you?”

He hesitated to answer for a minute, but I glared at him and he replied with a simple “Yes.”

“When you behave yourself, there are rewards.” I moved down and started licking his balls. Shaving them had been a good idea, because now that they were bald they were so much easier to suck on. “Oh yeah,” I heard him say.

Then I moved up and slid my mouth over his cock, taking his whole dick in one gulp. He really moaned at that one. I paused. “You like that?”

He nodded. “Yes. More. Please.” I smiled and sucked him longer, getting him close, and then I stopped.

“Roll over,” I ordered. He really looked nervous now, but I raised my eyebrows and that's all it took. He flipped over, showing me his muscular back with its ‘V’ shape, disappearing into his ass. He had a big ass, muscular to the point that it was almost ugly. I ran my hand over it, pushing his legs apart. Once his crack was exposed, I started running my fingers down his crack, flittering over his hole, and then pressing more firmly on his perineum. He moaned and humped the bed. I knelt behind him and moved down to his ass, replacing my fingers with my tongue. He really liked that, pushing his ass into my face. I got the distinct feeling that this wasn't the first time he'd done this.

I reached into the nightstand again, this time pulling out the Vaseline. He saw it and gulped, but decided not to say anything. I lubed his asshole, gently driving my fingers up his hole, finding his magic spot. I could have just raped him, but I wanted him to enjoy this as much as possible. That way, he'd know he had fun, that he liked it, and he'd have to deal with it.

I lubed up my cock and lowered myself down onto his back, lining my dick up to his hole and gently pushing in. He tightened up. “If you relax, this won't hurt as much,” I told him, and he relaxed a bit. I pushed in further. He tensed up, but I was almost in, so this time I just pushed through his ring.

“Aaaah,” he screamed. “That hurts, it really fucking hurts.”

“You big pussy. Take it like a man,” I said contemptuously. I began moving in and out of his ass, adjusting my position to make sure my dick was rubbing against his prostate. I felt him relax after a bit, then he spread his legs to give me better access, then, finally, he was thrusting his ass back into my cock.

“Ummm,” he moaned.

“Tell me you like having my dick up your ass,” I ordered. He repeated it as ordered. He was close, and fortunately, so was I.

“Arghhhhh,” I heard him yell, only this time it wasn't pain. These were screams of ecstasy, of sheer pleasure, as he came. I gently moved in and out while he shot his load on the sheets. Then, after he was done, I picked up my pace. I knew this would be the most humiliating time for him, getting fucked after he had cum, knowing that he had liked it. I felt the orgasm building up, and then I shot into him. I lay on top of him, letting the afterglow fade. It didn’t take very long.

“Roll over,” I ordered, and he rolled over onto his back. I wiped the cum off his body with a towel and gently cleaned off his cock and his bald balls. I expected him to be unhappy, and to be all freaked out, but he wasn’t. He just looked at me calmly, the look of someone who’d been satisfied. Then it dawned on me that Mallory was into this shit, he liked being tied up and forced to do things. That did a lot to explain why Mallory seemed to like Jensen so much. Jensen was a bully, dominant, and Mallory probably found that hot.

For the first time since I'd met Mallory, I felt sorry for him, and guilty for what I had done to him. I removed the handcuffs and saw his shocked expression. I leaned in to kiss him, wondering if he would kiss me back. He did, grabbing my head and pulling me in. I pulled away after a few minutes.

“You can go now, Mallory. I'll see you here tomorrow, same time.” He looked strangely dejected as he got up to leave, putting on his clothes, and then simply walked out.