The days leading up to the Fraternal Order’s ceremonial dinner were always chaotic and this year wasn’t any different. From the selection of the menu and the beverages being served, to the intricate details of the place settings; it was always a mad rush to get everything in place before the members would arrive on campus.

A large part of those arrangements would center around the onsite “décor” (or, more specifically); selecting, collecting and then preparing the dozen contenders for Miss Pygmalion. One would think that a presentation of such magnitude would require weeks (if not months) of preparation before the actual event. However, such a thing was impossible; that many students vanishing from the campus in such a short period of time would surely bring unwanted attention, (both from concerned parents and local authorities alike, regardless of how many were secretly paid-off). The fact that the black-tie affair was held every five years and always took place during the first week of spring break was no coincidence…

Five years meant an entirely new graduating class of fresh-faced contestants, while spring break allowed for more logical ways for them to disappear abroad. Such incidents required financial backing and the proper connections; it also involved inside sources or “boots on the ground.”

Bebe Kessler was one such associate. The student advisor was in charge of every aspect of the event and she was someone who could make things happen, (the fact that she’d given her hand to the most powerful man on campus didn’t hurt matters). Mrs. Kessler could be a very demanding woman who expected only the best―and frequently got it. So to say that she was a little frazzled over the ongoing banquet preparations would be quite an understatement...

The caterer hadn’t returned her calls in nearly twenty-four hours, and the florist said that a late season frost had killed off the white orchids that she’d wanted for the centerpieces. And then there was Vladimir, the perverted janitor, who couldn’t keep his grubby hands off the contestants...

“I swear I’m going to wring someone’s neck before this whole damned thing is over with!” The counselor grumbled as she walked.

Despite her irritable demeanor, the forty-one-year-old Kessler was a rather striking woman with milky-white skin that was further emphasized by her jet-black hair and piercing dark eyes. The counselor wore one of her trademark fitted blazers and a clingy pencil skirt (most of which were dangerously short by academic standards). She moved down the hallway at a brisk pace, the material of her navy skirt stretched out tightly over her flexing bottom, her Christian Louboutin block-heel pumps click-clacking with purpose across the pale gray tiles.

Some areas of the basement level of Galene Hall (such as the figure drawing and sculpting wing) allowed for limited access to students and faculty alike. However, most of the underground portion, with its secret labs and intricate maze of maintenance tunnels, were locked down and completely off-limits; only authorized personnel with proper security clearance would have access. The Fraternal Order had reasons for such secrecy, and their actions have been viewed with a certain degree of cynicism and suspicion, (by both the student body and surrounding locals alike, going back several generations). The only ones in the know, were those who were directly involved, and (to a very limited extent) their growing collection of unwitting victims…

In both cases; neither party was talking.

Mrs. Kessler came to a stop in front of a windowless door labeled AV STORAGE. As she began to fish around inside her purse for her electronic card key, she looked down and noticed the slight gap between the door and the frame around it. A look of concern spread across her face when she saw a wedge jammed beneath one corner of the door. Someone had put it there so they could bypass the magnetic reader and come and go as they please.

Fucking Vladimir!

The counselor nudged the door open with her elbow, and a sliver of light spilled from the hallway into the dark room beyond…

“Hello?” She asked with a note of trepidation. “Vladimir, are you in here?”

There was no reply.

She opened the door all the way.

Kessler studied the dozen silhouettes that stood silent in the shadows, watched closely for any sign of movement among them. Not seeing any, she then slipped inside and let go of the door; it slowly closed behind her and locked itself with a hollow click.

The system beeped as if to mock her.

Shit!

With gritted teeth, Mrs. Kessler put out a blind hand and felt her way along the bordering wall. Once her fingers found the switch, the woman flipped it on, and the room was immediately flooded with light. She quickly surveyed the content and inhaled sharply at the wonderful sight...

Standing in the center of the room, and placed in evenly-spaced rows, were this year’s contestants for Miss Pygmalion...

The advisor paused for a moment and took them all in. A dozen of the Glendale’s finest stood three abreast and four bodies deep. Most of them looked like dutiful soldiers, postures perfect and erect, their perky chests swelling with pride. A few others (specifically those that hadn’t been physically posed and given proper postures yet) looked overly relaxed, arms loose at their sides, their shoulders as slack as the looks on their faces. At least one Asian, two African-Americans, and numerous Caucasians and Hispanics represented the university’s colorful population. Most of the contestants were already outfitted in their ceremonial purple and white elasticized briefs, but one remained in her street clothes.

Another stood stark naked.

“Less than forty-eight hours before the goddamned banquet and they still aren’t ready! Must I do everything myself?”

With a heavy sigh, Bebe stalked in the direction of the first female in the nearest row. Shawna “Hoopz” Parker was one tough-looking customer, with chiseled arms, a rippled stomach, and hair done in tightly-braided cornrows. The cocoa-skinned Brooklynite was posed to exude power and confidence: chest out; shoulders back; chin up with jaw set, a stoic expression showing on her face. Around her corded neck was an inch-wide choker made of a silvery, almost metallic material, and at the back; the wider, thicker lump of the freeze-control module that held her in place.

“Hello, darling,” the counselor greeted. “Enjoying the break so far?”

She spoke to deaf ears, of course; Shawna made no sign that she’d heard the woman, and there was a faraway look in her glazed eyes…

Mrs. Kessler reached down and thrust her thumbs inside the waistband of Shawna’s briefs; she hiked them further up so that they sat more evenly across the basketball player’s hips. The advisor then circled around to the female’s backside and made sure that enough of the athlete’s apple bottom was showing. The woman took a step back and appreciated her handiwork with a self-satisfied smirk on her face. After a few seconds, she turned around to examine the next figure in line…

“Ah yes; the lovely Miss Barnes,” Bebe addressed, “Are we excited yet? …Only two more days before you and your sisters make your big debut.”

Like her teammate before her, Claire didn’t recognize the other woman's presence; she just stared ahead with a tranquil expression, her eyes glassy and fixed (all telltale signs of the control chip that hummed through her body).

Mrs. Kessler coolly rearranged the cheerleader’s thin bandeau so that her tits were boosted just a little higher up on her chest plate.  She picked and pulled at the stretchy material to make sure each breast was perfectly aligned with the other. Once she was happy with the results, the advisor looked around and visually contemplated some of the other contestants in the room. After a long moment, she leaned in towards Claire’s neck, put her lips to the younger woman’s ear, and then whispered as if the others might overhear:

“Better bring your A-game; the competition looks pretty stiff this year.”

Kessler chuckled to herself; partly at the double-entendre,but mostly due to the cheerleader’s frozen predicament.

“Best of luck to you, my dear,” the counselor encouraged. She squeezed Claire’s wrist for a little extra reassurance and moved further up the aisle…

“Oh, and who do we have here?”

Mrs. Kessler fingered the writeable nametag stuck to the woman’s chest which announced: Hello, my name is Priyanka.

This contestant possessed the thick dark brows and honey-brown skin of a Middle Eastern woman. She still retained her black, ankle-length abaya, (a long flowing dress that seemed to emphasize her ample curves rather than conceal them beneath). A plum-colored hijab made of chiffon framed her exotic-looking face. Wine-red lips surrounded a bright white smile that looked warm and outwardly welcoming. The young woman’s hand still hung in midair, as if she’d been suspended in a forward reaching motion. Held within her curled fingers was a printed flier like those found posted to many of the bulletin boards and light poles around campus.

Mrs. Kessler reached forward and gently plucked the bright orange leaflet out of her unresisting hand. The Indian woman’s big dark eyes gazed unblinkingly over the advisor’s shoulder even as she read it out loud to the rest of the room…

“Let’s talk about Islam and you…”

Mrs. Kessler eyebrow’s raised and she lowered the paper. “And how is that whole extremist thing working out for you these days?”

The other woman just stared forward, her unseeing eyes still transfixed on the back of Claire’s head.

The advisor crushed the handout into a little ball and dropped it on the floor. As she was about to move on, she caught the hint of a foul smell; that’s when she touched the young woman on the shoulder and commented, “There’s this thing called deodorant; I suggest you look into it.”

Mrs. Kessler moved among the rest of the contestants like a drill sergeant inspecting her fresh recruits. Occasionally she’d pause to adjust a top, prod a toned buttock, or rearrange an errant lock of hair. She was making small talk with some of the frozen contenders, assuring them what an honor it was just to be chosen, when something in the furthest row back caught her attention…

“And what is this?” she questioned out loud as she sidestepped a freckle-faced brunette…

Standing in the back corner, just a few feet ahead of the labeled 2’ x 2’ wooden cubicles that held each of the contestants’ street clothes and footwear, stood Hope Marie Chest. The photogenic, silk-spun blonde wore a confident grin, her hands braced against her curvy hips. The nineteen-year-old faced forward like all the others, but her elasticized briefs and nude pantyhose were turned inside out across her thighs to reveal her fleshy pussy lips and a neatly-trimmed triangle above. The young woman’s bandeau top had also been pulled upwards to expose her impressive Double D-sized rack.

“I see someone’s been in here sampling your goodies, hmm?”

Like those before her, the veterinary science major offered no response; she just stared ahead, the smile on her face looking more forced and awkward than ever.

Kessler’s eyes raked over the student’s near-naked body with budding appreciation. Hope’s 36DD’s stuck out from her chest like two overly-ripe cantaloupes, each capped with a pink areola that was covered in pimply-gooseflesh. They were large too; fifty-cent-piece nipples her husband would call them. Each one stood erect, (whether from the chilly atmosphere of the room or from the side effects of the necklet, she wasn’t sure). The girl had wider hips than some of the other contenders, (undoubtedly to accommodate her ample, yet shapely backside). The light blonde color of her pubic hair matched her flaxen mane, which cascaded down over her shoulders in a mess of bouncy curls.

“So I’m curious,” Kessler began, a devilish smirk forming on her lips. “They say that blondes have more fun… Is that true?”

Hope remained silent, but the confident air on her young unblemished face seemed to suggest that there was some level of truth to the statement.

Ever so slowly, and without looking away from Hope’s unblinking stare, Kessler lowered a hand to the sophomore’s exposed stomach, where the tip of her fingernail drew lazy circles around her deep, oblong-shaped belly button.

My goodness…

The counselor reached out, ran her opened palms down over Hope’s flanks, and followed the womanly curves of her hips. She lowered her right hand to where the thin patch of hair filled the gap between the student’s legs.

Mm… like finding the Holy Grail.

Kessler brushed the backs of her fingers over the younger woman’s bush, enjoyed the way the springy little hairs tickled her bare skin…

“If you only knew the types of things that I could do to you right now,” the counselor confessed before licking her lips.

…And as much as Kessler wanted to prove it, she also knew that there was much more important work to be done. With a reluctant sigh, she withdrew her hand from in between Hope’s legs.

“We better gather you back together before I have a change of heart...”

The student advisor reached behind Hope with both hands and pulled the briefs and hose up for her, stretching the polyester/spandex blend fabric up over her bubble butt and across her curvy hips. Hope wobbled in place precariously with each of the counselor’s forceful tugs…

With a final grunt, the waistband snapped in place.

“Phew!” Bebe expelled in relief. “Now let’s see if we can get the twins tucked back inside…”

Mrs. Kessler’s long fingers pulled the elasticized bandeau down over Hope’s bountiful breasts. By the time she was done, they looked rather lopsided, so she gently squeezed and shifted each one so that they rested evenly on her chest. The bandeau itself was about a size too small (as were all of them), but it piled her fleshy globes up nice and high…

After a few more tugs at the material, Kessler took a step back and examined her work.

“Perfect.”

The counselor turned to Hope’s right, where yet another contender stood in profile; this one stripped completely naked. She was pale skinned, with a radical two-tone bob that was side swept and cropped short in the back. Her pretty face was heavily made up, with dark lipstick, kohl-rimmed eyes, and a little silver ring that looped through one of her nostrils. And that wasn’t all that was pierced…

Kessler eyed the contestant’s teacup-sized breasts, where a titanium barbell went through each of her swollen pink nipples. Her disapproving gaze then dropped down lower to the hairless V between her legs, where a third stud pierced her genitals. The advisor rolled her eyes and shook her head in disgust...

“And you!” she blasted, “There are so many violations here that it may be impossible to hide them all!”

Sloane Peters stood in the proper “inspection position” with both arms loose at her sides, her chin seemingly raised in defiance. The teenager’s vacant expression was a sharp contrast to the look of terror she’d had when she suddenly realized that the rumors about the tunnels were true. Came to the realization that she was about to become another one of the missing. The advisor circled around her, eyes scanning over her naked form as if she were judging a prize mare on an auction block.

“The only reason you’re even lucky enough to be in this room is to serve your sentence,” Kessler taunted. “You’re filler and nothing more; a mere toss away among all these belles….”

The advisor paused to inspect the bold tribal tattoo that stretched across Sloane’s lower back. She frowned and continued to admonish:

“It’s quite a shame to see someone with so much potential just throw it all away, simply because she doesn’t know how to follow the rules, or thinks she needs to make her own statement.”

The insults flowed over Sloane like a light breeze; she just stood there unaffected, even as the counselor’s hand casually glided over the twin humps of her exposed backside…

“I’ve had my doubts ever since you arrived on campus,” Kessler admitted as she circled around to the front. “And I knew the whole queen of the dead thing would never cut it here at Glendale. But then one day I thought to myself; what if this poor little misfit became my next side project. What a challenge it would be to transform her from an ugly outcast to a beautiful swan; someone far more desirable than even I could ever imagine….”

The advisor cocked her head and studied the other woman’s impassive face rather quizzically.

“Such pretty eyes,” she murmured as she reached out to brush an errant lock of hair away from Sloane’s face. “And that kissable mouth…”

Mrs. Kessler touched a hand to Sloane’s cheek and lightly ran a finger down to the lips she wished to sample. The girl didn’t even blink at her touch, and the counselor stared longingly into those big brown eyes, which stared back like two bottomless pools of emptiness.

The woman knew that fraternizing was largely frowned upon at most universities. However, she and the dean became husband and wife over a year ago, and ever since that day she answered to no one. Someone with status such as hers got certain benefits, like free reign over the entire Glendale campus. That made it easy for the advisor and her associates to take full advantage when an opportunity presented itself.

Like right now, for instance.

Kessler cupped her hands around Sloane’s neutral visage. She gazed into her unseeing eyes, pretending once again that the girl could hear her. “So… here we are; just two women ready to enjoy each other’s bodies… And no one will ever know.”

She leaned in slowly, pressed her lips against Sloane’s, and the other woman’s mouth opened slightly from the impact. Like an open invitation to come on in. So the advisor pushed her tongue inside, poked around a bit, and took the time to explore the velvety interior of her sweet young mouth. It felt completely odd at first; scraping against her student’s teeth, dragging it across the warmth of her inactive tongue, lightly prodding at the insides of her cheeks ―all without getting any sort of response. But Sloane’s lack of movement made it all the more erotic; like she was offering her entire body up for her counselor’s own perverted use and with no strings attached.

“It takes two to tango,” Kessler whispered against the other woman’s lips, “guess I’ll have to lead…”

Sloane might not have been reacting to her, but the counselor could feel a familiar tingling sensation deep between her own legs. That need. She pressed her crotch up harder against her student’s immobile body…

This is so wrong, Kessler reasoned. But then her inner bad girl disputed: It wouldn’t be the first time. An older, sensual woman seducing her younger, innocent student; hell, men have been getting away with it for centuries! Why deny yourself?

Like anyone else; the counselor had her good days and bad. Her position came with a lot of responsibility, and the stress factor was ridiculous. Sometimes it felt good to let go of her inhibitions and indulge in some meaningless sex.

…And she won’t even know.

None of them ever did.

Kessler’s right hand already worked its way around to the back of girl’s head, where it clutched her hair within her fingers; their lips mashed together, the advisor’s greedy tongue continually dancing, teasing and probing. She drove it deeper and deeper into her student’s unresisting mouth, wanting to become one with her, and Sloane was quickly losing the one-sided battle.

Mm; so submissive!

The advisor’s roaming hand found a nipple and squeezed it.

“OH!”

―Kessler quickly broke away from the kiss and looked down to where her wedding ring had caught on one of the titanium barbells. “Oh my goodness; I hope I didn’t tear something!”

Sloane looked completely unfazed by the slip of hand.

“I should take those damned things out,” Kessler grumbled. But as much as the piercings disgusted her, she found the whole idea rather intriguing. What would they feel like; would they always be sore? Her own nipples were overly sensitive as it is; would something like this turn her on even more? Imagine walking around in public, everyone carrying out their daily routines without even knowing she was penetrated like this…

North and south.

God; it just seems so damned kinky.

Whatever the case; it wasn’t enough to stop Kessler from gently palming those wonderful mounds of flesh. With a devilish smirk, the advisor flicked her tongue over the pierced nipple in front of her. She found the metallic taste of titanium pretty odd at first, but then she clasped her lips around the swollen bud and started to suck, (albeit very softly as she got used to working with the stud). Then she took that entire tit in hand, squeezed it into a cone, and drew the whole areola into her mouth. The suckling sounds she made echoed throughout the small room…

“C’mon, sweetie,” she gasped in between sucks, “You know you love this.”

Sloane probably would, (under normal circumstances), but it would be awfully hard for her to enjoy a sensation she couldn’t possibly feel.

So be it.

And the tingling sensation continued to build.

Kessler started to rub her nylon-sheathed inner thigh against Sloane’s shapely gam, but maintaining balance on one three-inch heel proved to be a bit of a challenge for the aging forty one-year-old. “Hold that thought,” she instructed before pausing to peel off her glossy-black pumps. The counselor elevated her skirt up high enough to reveal the dark upper bands of her nylons; she unclipped her garter snaps, slid her silk panties down over her legs and stuffed them in a pocket of her blazer. She swung her leg back up and wrapped it around her student’s ass in order to maintain her balance and keep the girl close.

“Okay,” the woman panted, “Now, where were we?”

Kessler started out slowly at first, but she quickly found her rhythm again, sliding up and down Sloane’s thigh and generating a slug-like trail of wetness on her bare skin. The girl remained still all the while, her only movement being her two-tone hair as it swayed in counterpoint to the other woman’s pelvic thrusts.

“Uhhh…uhhh…uh…umm,” the advisor whimpered against the choker on her student’s neck.

It was the very same choker that kept her impromptu-paramour in a constant state of suspended animation and allowed for her to do this. That Professor Schultz is a genius!

Kessler was kneading Sloane’s breast in one hand and holding onto her shoulder with the other, grinding her needy snatch even more aggressively. At some point, the young woman’s arm fell in the way; the back of her inactive hand being pounded by the counselor’s slit.

“Oh, you want some of this?” she snarled. “Huh? Well, do you?”

The girl stared ahead, nothing more than an empty vessel…

Kessler grabbed Sloane’s hand, and the decision was made for her. The advisor left the index and middle fingers extended, pressed them together, and then folded over the remaining three. She inserted the two fingers into her aching center.

The effect was instantaneous; Kessler exclaimed an “Oh―fffuck!” and then fell into a slow, torturous rhythm, riding Sloane’s fingers like an erect cock. Her head lolled over to the side, and her mouth fell open, as the warm tension in her belly coiled up even tighter. The advisor wriggled and bucked her hips, trying her hardest to release the pressure that was soo on the brink of exploding…

But two fingers didn’t seem to cut it.

“Gimme another!” the woman growled, her voice husky with lust. “I want your thumb on me now!”

Once again the advisor manipulated Sloane’s hand, extending her thumb and using it like the forked extension on a vibrator, rubbing it vigorously against her clit…

Kessler’s eyes fluttered and her breath hitched as she worked the two fingers in and out like a piston, the thumb keeping constant pressure on her throbbing bud. She was so turned-on that lewd noises started coming from her sloppy-wet pussy.

Sloane was wobbling in place like a punch-drunk boxer; she finally tilted forward like falling timber and landed with a thump against Kessler’s shoulder.

“That’s okay,” the advisor huffed, “I’ve got you, dear. Just hold it right―uh― there!”

Sloane’s stiff upper body shook with every forceful shove. The older woman felt compelled to pat her student’s back as if she were burping a baby; it appeared that “holding on” was all the poor thing could do.

“Uh… ah… y-yes… aha-ha… that’s the s-spot… uh-huh… mm-hmmm!”

The advisor let out little whimpers as every thrust brought her one step closer to the edge. The woman picked-up speed; she began to hump Sloane’s hand with reckless abandon, desperately chasing her orgasm, a look of mindless bliss on her face. One of her own hands was still entwined and pulling at her student’s hair; the other clamped vice-like around the girl’s wrist, continually jack-hammering away...

Kessler’s vision suddenly darkened, and she desperately cried out “Mm-mmm- Oo―oh―ohhhh!” The woman rose up high on her tippy toes―and brought her oblivious lover up with her. The climax was so swift and so violent that her mouth froze in a silent scream. Her eyes rolled back in their lids as the mind-numbing feeling shot through her like a pinched nerve, locking her body in place, consuming every corner of her awareness, and dimming it with pleasure. She was so caught-up in the moment that she was only vaguely aware of Sloane’s intrusion, even as the fleshy walls of her pussy constricted around the young woman’s fingers. But all good things come to an end, and as the last of the waves began to subside, she managed one last spurt and then promptly collapsed against her partner. Luckily, Sloane’s body was rigid enough to serve double duty as a brace, keeping her upright as her legs turned to rubber.

With her arms wrapped around her student, Kessler slowly ground to a halt. The pair maintained that position for a long moment, as if wanting to sustain their intimate connection; one woman providing support, while the other embraced her for it. The advisor wallowed in the soft afterglow of sex, her consciousness flowing back, her heavy breathing gradually returning to near normalcy…

“Now that . . . was fucking amazing,” the woman wheezed in a spent voice. “I mean… where have you been all my life?”

Kessler let out a low sigh, her body occasionally twitching and hunching from the powerful aftershocks.

“My-oh-my,” the woman cooed as she reached down and gave her student’s rump a gentle pat. “You may not be quite as pretty as all the rest, but you’ve certainly got talent.”

Sloane was speechless as usual; she remained propped up against the advisor’s shoulder, her fingers still attached and kindly plugging her hole.

Kessler took her student by the shoulders and slowly pushed her back into an up-right position. Sloane’s fingers gradually slipped out of her cunt, making an audible fhwoop when they did so; then her hand just hung in mid-air like an up-righted hook on the end of a cane. The advisor manually lowered the other woman’s arm and left it to hang at her side…

That’s when she noticed the clear, egg-white-like secretion running down Sloane’s hand, where it collected at the tips of her fingers and formed into a snot-like bubble. Over the course of twenty seconds, said bubble stretched out further and further, dangling around in the air a few times, before it snapped off and dropped to the floor.

“Sorry,” the advisor apologized with a bit of a chuckle. “Guess I forgot to mention that I’m a bit of a gusher.”

Then she glimpsed down between her own legs, where the rest of the glistening ooze was quickly drying on her inner thighs…

“Ugh; just look at this mess! ―And these were brand-new stockings too!”

The advisor reached between her legs and diddled herself for a bit, her long fingers dancing across the pliable skin of her twat. Her breath hitched as she dipped two fingers into her moist center, scooped out what was left, and then raised those digits up to her student’s partially opened mouth. A sly expression came over her face as she watched Sloane’s lower lip roll inward, felt her bottom teeth graze across the pads of her fingers as she offered the girl a little sample…

“Full of flavor, yet low on calories,” Kessler joked.

The counselor continued to look on as she slowly removed her finger from Sloane’s mouth. She watched her lip roll back in place, smiled with self-satisfaction as a string of saliva stretched out between her student’s lips and the tips of her fingers...

What a naughty little girl you are.

Kessler dug into the side pocket of her blazer and withdrew the panties that she’d discarded earlier. She grasped the bottom hem of her dress, yanked the garment up even higher so that it bunched up around her hips, and then crudely scrubbed at the glaze that had already formed on her inner thighs. Once the advisor was finished cleaning herself off, she got down on her knees and went to work on her student, at first flattening out her glistening hand and then vigorously rubbing at the dried discharge.

Sloane tottered above from the contact…

“Hold still, dear,” the counselor instructed as she got down into the webbing in between the young woman’s fingers, “I’m almost finished.”

Kessler slowly turned her head so that she was face to face with Sloane’s shaved pussy; so close that she could almost lick her. It was a beautiful little pussy, with a pierced clit that slightly protruded from beyond her puffy lips, and there wasn’t a stray hair to be seen―anywhere. The advisor entertained the thought that her student had depilated herself just for her. Like a form of extra-credit.

That brought a smile to the woman’s face.

“Just between us; I wouldn’t mind returning the favor,” Kessler admitted out loud as she checked the hand for any residual evidence. “However; time is of the essence here, and there’s still much prep work to be done…”

Sloane remained quiet up above, as if she somehow understood the situation.

The advisor cleared her throat. She was so close that she could actually smell her student, and the girl exuded a sweet, pungent scent like that of cotton candy.

Someone’s ripe for the picking.

Kessler chewed on her bottom lip, conflicted.

It’s not a big deal, her inner bad girl pressed. And no one will know.

Kessler reminded herself that this little dalliance had been her bright idea in the first place. Well, maybe not her, specifically… but one of them. And she is sort of cute in a rebellious kind of way.

Then she swallowed hard in her throat.

…Maybe just a little taste.

The advisor placed a hand on each of Sloane’s thighs and then bowed her head down to her student’s bare slit. She stuck out her tongue, gave it a quick lick, and then pulled her head back to judge the flavor.

“Tangy; but not too bad . . . Not that bad at all, actually.”

Kessler extended a middle finger, wet it within her own mouth, and then raised it to Sloane’s rubbery opening. She pushed inward, but the young woman seemed to resist the intrusion―at first. Then her body seemed to relax on its own, and her student “took her in” as if submitting to her much older counselor.

Kessler watched her finger slide in all the way up to the knuckle. She felt the smooth walls of Sloane’s pussy mold itself around her delving digit, curving around it like a snug-fitting glove, as if it were always meant to be inside her. Mm; nice and tight, she thought. She wiggled her finger inside the other woman’s womb a few times and then gently stroked it back and forth…

She noticed a familiar slickness right away. The advisor looked up over the expanse of her student’s naked body and quipped, “Your mind may not be present, but your flesh tells another story…”

Sloane stared out sightlessly above, her gaze turned inward, as her velvety warmth tightly clasped itself around her mentor’s finger below. Her pussy sucked and pulled at Kessler’s digit, as if it were milking an erect cock.

The advisor flashed a mischievous grin; she curled the tip and routed around some more in search for her student’s g-spot.

And promptly found it.

She slowly rubbed over the sensitive gland for a bit and then pressed-in hard as if pressing down on the button for the atomic bomb.

Ka-boom!

Sloane’s hips suddenly jerked, and she rocked on her feet a bit. Kessler felt something squirt hard against her finger, and then all at once it glided up and down without much effort at all.

The girl’s musky scent grew that much stronger.

Kessler half-smirked at the reaction her student’s body gave her.

Ah yes; the sweet, sweet smell of success…

Sloane’s pussy was making sloppy-wet noises just as her own had done just a few minutes before. The advisor continued to finger-bang her student for a while longer, and when she finally withdrew; ejaculate immediately dribbled out of her inundated cunt…

Once again Kessler looked up over Sloane’s naked curves. There was a sinister glint in her eyes, and she cracked a wicked smile as she brought her finger to her open mouth. She tasted her lover’s essence for a second time, and her eyes lidded as she savored the flavor...

Mm-mmm.

The advisor bowed her head once again and placed a light kiss on her student’s clit…

“Now you’re a part of me,” she said in between peppering more kisses along her nether lips, “…and more importantly; I’m a part of you.”

Sloane remained silent up above, as if she were hanging on her every last word...

“…And you’re very welcome.”

Kessler grazed her blood-red nails over Sloane’s abdomen, watched as they left faint white trails behind on her skin. Entertained the thought of keeping her forever…

The advisor’s head suddenly snapped toward the door; for a minute, she thought she’d heard the sound of caster wheels squeaking to a halt outside.

(!)

Kessler froze in place― still as a statue. She listened carefully to make sure she hadn’t imagined it. It wasn’t until she heard the telltale beep of the card reader that her heart sank to her nylon-sheathed toes.

Holy Mary mother of Joseph!

Kessler shot up from the floor; she rushed to gather the pumps that she’d carelessly discarded in the heat of the moment. The woman hopped in place as she desperately tried to pull one of them on, but her nylon stocking didn’t offer the most stable footing…

―Doh!

The advisor suddenly lost her balance, arms wind-milling through the air; she hit the floor with a resounding “Ooof!”

Kessler’s ample derrière managed to cushion part of the fall, but the subsequent bounce caused her bent elbow to bump into her student’s leg. From the corner of her eye, she watched in horror as Sloane’s rigid body fell back like a bowling pin, her head hitting the ground with a loud crack!

Oh, for Christ's sake!

Kessler struggled to get up from the floor, the slippery hose causing her feet to scramble for traction on the tiled flooring. For a brief second she considered, maybe I should stand at attention and act frozen like the rest of these airheads.

The advisor finally stood up on her feet just as the door swung open…

*  *  *  *

Dr. Otto Von Schultz pushed his stainless steel gurney through the door marked AV storage. He stopped short just inside the doorframe, a look of concern etched upon his elderly features.

Vhat is going on here... und vhy are zee lights on.

Schultz’s nostrils flared as he surveyed the area; there was a sweet, yet pungent scent in the air; it filled the small room and was potent enough to assault his nose. He didn’t need a doctorate to recognize the smell of recent sex. A tiny muscle in the corner of his mouth made his right cheek twitch…

“Vladimir?”

The doctor stood there for a long moment, taking in the splendid scene. A dozen women stood before him completely motionless. Each of their pretty faces was blank, their glassy eyes locked on the chalkboard some ten feet ahead, yet seeing nothing. They were neatly organized in evenly spaced rows for ease of management as well as observational purposes. The doctor knew this, as he and his assistant personally arranged them that way…

Some sudden movement in the back of the room caught his eye. There, in the furthest row back, was Bebe Kessler; the “frozen” advisor had broken character and was raising one of the candidates up from the floor. The naked contender came to a stop in an upright position, bobbling a bit on her feet until the much older woman steadied her in place...

“Ah, Frau Kezzler… I thought that was you back there.”

Kessler’s cheeks flared red from embarrassment and she refused to look in his direction.

“Um . . . just taking inventory,” the woman lied. She braced a hand against one of the cubbyholes on the back wall, leaned over to one side and added, “Seems that I’ve lost a shoe somewh― oh, here it is.”

“Didn’t expect to zee you here; burning zee midnight oil again?”

“I guess you could say that,” Kessler replied as she pulled on a pump. The advisor leaned in the opposite direction, pulled on the second one, and then finally turned around. She then moved down through the row of suspended contenders, adjusting her blazer as she walked. When Kessler emerged from the front row, she tugged down the lower hem of her skirt and quickly smoothed the material out over her thighs…

Schultz took notice and raised an eyebrow at the sight. A ripple of sarcastic amusement made the corner of his mouth twitch into his cheek gain...

“Making zome lazt minute adjustments, zen?”

“There’s still a lot or work to be done here,” Kessler complained. “I’m better off taking matters into my own hands.”

Schultz removed a hanky from his pocket and snapped it out in the air. He took his wire rimmed glasses off with the other hand, breathed on each of the circular lenses, and slowly rubbed at the moisture. He gave the advisor a critical look as he did so…

“Zo you thought you’d come by und help yourzelf, eh?”

Damn my recklessness!

Kessler could totally deny it, but it would be rather pointless; nothing ever got past the doctor.

“Well, something along those lines...”

Schultz cracked a knowing grin; it seemed as if he possessed the psychic ability to read her mind. He placed the glasses back down on the bridge of his long, bumpy nose.

“We all haffe our vices, Bebe: zome enjoy zee occazional cigarette; ozers faffor a dark Läɡer after a day’s vork.”He looked around the room at all the staring, half-naked contestants and added, “…Und a few us prefer zee company of a frozen lover . . . they neffer say no.”

Mrs. Kessler cleared her throat with a crisp, “A-hem . . . Yes, well; I see that you’ve brought your table with you; we need a cleanup in aisle two.”

“Lead zee way,” Schultz replied. The doctor followed the advisor down through two rows of suspended contenders. Each one stood like a soldier at attention, never moving her straightforward gaze even as they passed. Kessler brought him to the same contestant she was steadying in place when he’d first entered the room. This one looked a little unruly compared to her well-groomed competitors.

She was also completely naked.

“Ah,” Schultz said as he finally recognized the girl. “…Our human pin-cushion.”

“Yes,” Kessler acknowledged. “You get the top; I’ll take the bottom…”

“Mein favorite pozition.”

The advisor gave a salty look. “Hardly the time, doctor…”

Schultz grasped Sloan beneath the arms and slowly eased her back, while Kessler picked her up by the ankles. Working together, the pair carried their burden to the other side of the room, the young woman looking stiff as a board in between them.

As they set her down on the stainless gurney, the advisor went on to instruct, “Now Sloane here needs a very thorough bath; I won’t have time to remove all the piercings ― I’m afraid that her nipples might look deformed anyway. You can redress her once you’re finished, and I’ll have Jerry come over to do her makeup… He has nothing better to do anyway...”

“Thorough, like inzide und out?” Schultz questioned.

Kessler gave him a sideways glance. “Yes; as in every nook and cranny.”

The doctor slowly withdrew his hands from beneath Sloane’s arms, brushing the tips of his fingers across the swells of her breasts as he did so. He stepped around to the side of the gurney and studied the young woman that lay face up on the cold stainless surface. He reached out and cupped one of her flattened breasts as if it were the most natural thing to do in the world…

“Little one must haffe quite zee threshold for pain, yah?”

Kessler nodded and swallowed hard in her throat.

“Zelf-esteem through zelf-mutilation,” Schultz murmured as he absently played with her nipple, rolling the leathery pad of his thumb over it and the stud that went through it. Secretly, the doctor was thinking how easily it would be to lean forward and suckle on it. To just drop his trousers, pull her to the edge of the table, and make sweet love to her, which, (judging from the way his penis was behaving), might be sooner than later.

Viagra was a helluva drug.

“Doctor!”

Schultz snapped out of his reverie. “Argh―right, yez!”

That’s when Vladimir (the doctor’s faithful, but bumbling Russian assistant) entered the room. The man’s eyes darted to the left, and he just stood there for a moment, absorbing the splendid scene. The expression on his face was that of a cheeky schoolboy viewing his first skin mag. Then he pivoted to the right, his eyes going wide at the sight of Sloane Peter’s naked body. A devious grin spread across his face…

“And you!” Kessler snarled. “How many times have I told you; HANDS―OFF ―THE ―CONTESTANTS!”

“Vhat are you on about?” asked the doctor.

“When I first came in here, the door was wedged open; I found Hope Marie Chest with her top yanked up and her bottoms pulled halfway down her thighs!”

“Now, now,” the doctor said, seeming to brush it off. “Effen Vladimir has zee occazional lapse in judgment.”

“Lapse in judgment; are you kidding me!”

“Juzt zimble curiosity; she von’t effen know…”

Kessler gave the doctor a sour look as if to say, then you better deal with him! She then turned to glare at his subordinate, the pair making direct eye contact. The janitor quickly averted his gaze back to the rows of beautiful contestants…

“Playtime is over, Vladimir; now get to work, or I’ll see to it that your ass is fired!”

The man’s chin fell to his chest, and he took on the demeanor of a scolded child. He looked over at his boss for a bit of sympathy, but the doctor returned an unspoken glance as if to say I think she means it this time…

“Oh, and another thing…” Kessler snarled before doing an about face. She ordered, “Follow me.”

She led the doctor down yet another aisle to where a young Middle Eastern woman stood in black garb and a burgundy hijab. “…And Paprika here (fingering her nametag) ―or rather Priyanka needs to be stripped and prepared as well. I noticed some body odor on this one, so give her a bath too.”

“Fery vell zen.”The doctor clapped his hands twice, like a first-grade teacher commanding their students’ attention. His assistant seemed to appear out of thin air beside him. “Vladimir; ve must disrobe zis one und get her down to zee lab.”

The janitor rubbed his hands together like a fiendish villain in an old-time horror film.

Kessler furrowed her eyebrows and her lips tightened in anger. She turned to the doctor with a menacing look…

“Just make sure he does his damned job, and let me know when they’re ready. Got it?”

A smirk spread across the doctor’s face. “But of courze.”

Without another word, the advisor spun on a heel and stalked down the aisle. Schultz stared after her, momentarily entranced by the way her skirt clung to the curves of her bulbous derrière.

The doctor turned to face his assistant, who was already standing on the far side of their next “assignment.”

“Ready, Vladimir?”

The janitor gave an eager nod.

Schultz turned his focus to the woman who stood in profile in between them.

“Hallo, pretty fräulein,” the doctor greeted as he took the student’s outreaching hand within his. “I’m zee doctor, und it’s a pleazure to meet you.”

Priyanka wobbled a bit in response.

“Zen let us begin.”

Schultz unpinned the woman’s hijab and slowly unraveled it from around her head. Each ensuing pass revealed a little more of her raven locks, which were upswept and pinned into a frizzy bun. The doctor handed the chiffon head covering over to his assistant, and Vladimir carefully folded it in three before placing the item in the appropriate nook (labeled candidate #11, which matched the plastic I.D. band on Priyanka’s wrist).

Schultz reached up to the top of the woman’s collar, where a few wiry strands of hair stuck out from her nape. With one hand braced on the student’s shoulder, he unzipped the back of her abaya with the other, his index finger tracing her spine and then dipping inward with the deep curve of her lower back. The doctor knew he wasn’t likely to find any tramp stamps (as Americans sometimes called them) but he was surprised to see a lacy black bra underneath.

“Over zee shoulders,” the man instructed.

Working together, the pair slid the black covering down over the young woman’s shoulders and lowered it to her waist.

Vladimir’s eyes widened at the sight of her generous breasts, which were barely contained within the lacy cups of her strapless push-up bra.

“Now pull it down over zee hips,” the doctor commanded.

Again the pair tugged at either side of the abaya, see-sawing it back and forth, their subject wavering precariously from side to side, until the garment finally cleared the arch of her outer thighs. When the pair saw how the thigh-high cut of her thong further emphasized her hourglass frame, they both let the cloak fall to her feet with a muted thump.

Vladimir eyed the seamless front panel of her panties, the fit so tight that he could clearly make out the puffy imprint of her pussy. His mouth curled into a devious grin, and his hand slowly reached out…

Schultz slapped his hand away and motioned, “Up, Vladimir, up!”

Following the doctor’s orders, his assistant stepped in behind the woman, grasped her by the waist, and lifted her off of her feet. Schultz took a knee down below to gather up the black cloak before removing it from beneath her feet.

Vladimir set the woman down, Priyanka once again wobbling in place. By the time the doctor had risen back to his full height, his assistant was already preoccupied with feeling up the outward curves of her heart shaped ass…

“Vladimir; less touching und more folting!”

The doctor shoved the abaya into Vladimir’s hands, snapping him out of his reverie. He quickly folded the garment up into a neat square, rushed over to cubbyhole #11, and then added the item to the rising stack. The man scampered back in place as if he might miss something…

Schultz was already fiddling around with the clasp on Priyanka’s front-loaded bra. He stared down at her full breasts as he did so, admiring how the olive skin swelled within the underwired cups like squished balloons. Zeze pesky zings, the doctor thought in frustration as he struggled with the hook. He felt the clasp finally give beneath his fingers, and as the cups fell away, her tits sprung into view…

“Meine Güte!”

A strand of spittle flung from Vladimir’s mouth and landed on Priyanka’s arm. “YA! ― Big titten!”

The Middle Easterner sported a pair of 36C’s, the rounded tips capped with brown areolas and nipples that stood out like plump Hershey kisses.

“Ah, mein sveet tooth…”

Schultz clamped his leathery hands around Priyanka’s breasts and gave them an obligatory squeeze, (purely for scientific reasons, of course).

“…Zo round und perfectly proporzioned.”

The doctor tapped against the bottom of her left breast, watched in amazement as it barely recoiled off the tips of his fingers…

“Und firm too.”

“Yah, firm titten!” his assistant agreed favorably.

Not one to miss an opportunity, Vladimir was already grasping her right breast, the chocolaty nipple protruding from the gap in between his stubby fingers…

Knowing that they needed to get back to the business, the doctor hooked his fingers into the elastic waistband of Priyanka’s underwear and pulled them down over her hips and legs.

“Ah, zis fräulein is hairy one.”

The dark patch of hair between Priyanka’s legs was natural and thick indeed, with a few more wiry pubes spreading out across her mound like butterfly wings.

“Come on, Vladimir; up―up!”

Like before, his assistant stepped in behind the naked woman, grasped her by the waist, and lifted her up from the floor. The doctor knelt down to remove the thong from around Priyanka’s feet and then collected her discarded bra as well.

“Store zeze avay,” the doctor ordered, “zen ve move her.”

Vladimir eagerly took the undergarments from his superior. As the janitor turned away, he held the panties over his face, closed his eyes, and then deeply inhaled her musky odor. He placed the brassiere on the stack of clothing, but the thong found its way into the side pocket of his smock so he could add it to his growing collection later on...

One by one, Schultz removed the bobby pins that were holding Priyanka’s hairdo in place. As each wavy tendril fell free, the doctor turned and placed the detached pin in Vladimir’s waiting hand. By the time he was finished, the young woman’s raven locks spilled out over her shoulders in a big curly mess.

Schultz took a step back to observe Priyanka’s new look. The old man adjusted his bifocals, and his gaze took in her naked curves, her olive skin so soft and so flawless that he almost felt a need to apologize for even touching it with his calloused hands. He was so impressed with her beauty that he withdrew his phone and took a picture of her for prosperity.

The good doctor had a trophy collection of his own to add to...

“Vhat a shame to hide zuch a well-developed body,” he said as he showed his helper the results on his screen.

Vladimir smirked and wiggled his woolly eyebrows in silent delight.

“Okay, zen; let’s get her over to zee taple und down to zee lab.”

Vladimir didn’t need to be told twice. The janitor reached in between the young woman’s arms, clasped his hands together beneath her firm breasts and then leaned her back against his chest. Schultz seized both of her ankles and raised her up on the opposite end. Like her classmate before her, Priyanka looked like one of those participants at a hypnosis show who’d been commanded to go rigid, (the only thing missing was the two facing chairs).

The men carried their frozen cargo to the front of the room, but as they raised Priyanka’s body up over the side of the table, Vladimir stopped short. He looked down at Sloan Peters, who still lay flat on her back, mouth slack, and her glassy eyes staring up sightlessly at the ceiling. It was fairly obvious that the medical table was meant to transport one at a time, not two…

The janitor gave his superior a look as if he were expecting to hear a solution to their problem.

The doctor let out an exasperated sigh. “Ve are not making two trips through zee tunnel!”

“Ve stack like lumber?”

“I don’t zink eizer one of zem vill complain, do you?”

The janitor thought for a second and then shrugged his shoulders with indifference.

The doctor shook his head in frustration and went on to instruct, “Here; bring your end around to zee ozer one’s feet, let’s go…”

The pair turned Priyanka around 180 degrees alongside the table.

“Again, Vladimir, again!”

Vladimir completely misunderstood the directions; he tried to turn around in the opposite direction, but the doctor immediately corrected him.

“No, Vladimir!” Schultz shouted. “Like propeller on nuclear zub!”

“Nuclearrr sub?” The old man stared at him in confusion.

The doctor made a circular motion with his pointed finger.

“Da; rrrotation!”

“Hurry, Vladimir; she’s getting heaffy.”

Poor Priyanka was rotated around in between them like a rotisserie chicken. With her face staring down, and her long locks hanging down from around her head, the Indian woman was carefully positioned on top of Sloane’s body. Both women’s feet came to a rest alongside each other’s heads, crotch on crotch, one face staring up, and the other ass up with her head turned off to the side and her cheek squished against the cold surface of the table.

The doctor threaded the end of one hold-down strap through the receiver and ratcheted it down across the middle of Priyanka’s back. Vladimir repeated the process, ratcheting a strap across Sloane’s bare chest and the other woman’s upturned calves. He tugged on the strap for good measure.

“Zat vill do,” said the doctor. “Ve haffe much vork to do, zo let’s go.”

With Vladimir pushing in the back, Doctor Schultz walked alongside the front of the table, steering it through the doorway of the storage room and then down the hallway beyond. Sloane remained quiet below, the ceiling lights reflecting back in her visionless eyes. She looked much younger and completely vulnerable strapped down to the table like that. There would be plenty of time to get better acquainted with her in the hours to come…

                                                                        *           *           *

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