University frolics.
Nazgul.
1.
Mike Granger sighed heavily with relief, switched off the console in the
language laboratory, where he had been copying master tapes, went out into the
deserted corridor and lit a cigarette. Normally he finished well before 6, but
now it was past 10 and he was dog-tired. All that remained to do was to take the
tapes up to his office, lock up and go home.
At 28 he was a well-proportioned, good-looking man, living alone in an old
rented house some miles from the campus. An Arts major, he had remained in
France after his studies, drawn by the life-style and the high wages offered by
the University. In fact, life was fine, except for one thing: the students, and
more particularly the female students. OK, so being young; good-looking and
single made him the target for a never-ending series of young, amorous girls,
ready to use any and very ruse to get him to go out with them. Mike would have
been only too willing, but he knew very well that in this small, provincial
university town the slightest hint of scandal could lose him his job - already
several jealous colleagues had complained when he had been appointed.
"Oh well," thought Mike, "you can't have it both ways." He locked the laboratory
door and walked through silent, corridors, up a fight of stairs which lead
towards his office. Slung over his shoulder was the bag with his beloved Nikon
cameras and other photographic paraphernalia. He was a very keen - and good -
amateur photographer and it was rare that he went anywhere without them. Today,
he had been asked by the 3rd year students, who knew all about his talent in
that field, if he would take photos for their year book. He of course had
agreed.
As he turned into the corridor in which his office was located, he saw that the
light was on in it. "Strange," he thought, "I surely didn't leave it on, because
it was daylight last time I was up here." Moving very quietly,, he approached
the high-set window in the corridor wall which gave onto his office, reached up
on tip-toes and carefully looked through it.
There, leaning over his desk and reading a document was a girl. Mike immediately
guessed what was happening. The University exams were coming up soon and since
he hated doing things at the last minute, he had already typed out the English
paper and then put it in the draw of his desk. That must be the document the
girl was reading. And, come to think of it, he had a feeling he knew who she
was. At that moment she turned her head slightly so that he got a slightly
better view of her face, and his suspicions were confirmed. Martine Lefevre! He
had every reason to know her, after the trouble she had caused him.
Martine Lefevre, the lithe, slim, big-breasted second-year student with the
long, blond hair, the beautiful girl with a mean streak who had tried to
blackmail him some eight months ago by threatening to accuse him of rape it he
didn't take her out. Fortunately, he had been able to avoid the trouble, but
ever since she had taken a delight in finding every possible opportunity, in
class and out, of making trouble for him. And here she was, stealing a look at
the exam paper.
Mike thought rapidly : if he denounced her, it was only his word against hers,
without proof, the case would be thrown out. Re-writing the exam paper was
really too much trouble. And then he had an idea. He took the Nikon he had been
using that afternoon for the sack, fitted an electronic flash, checked that
there was still some film left on the roll and, raising himself on tiptoe,
looked through the high window. The girl was now actually copying-out the paper.
Mike held the camera up to the window, got both student and desk in the frame,
and pressed the button. Set to auto, the camera whirred and the girl, alerted by
the flash and the sound, looked up.
Quickly, Mike opened the office door and entered the room, closing it behind
him. The girl looked at him, horrified. There was no getting away from it, she
really was something, if you excepted that sulky mouth. She was wearing a short,
pleated skirt and a tight-fitting sweater and he wondered idly what size cups
those firm, high-set breasts took.
She broke the silence. "Mr. Granger, I came by to see if you were in your
office, because I had something I wanted to ask you, " she said, trying to
brazen it out.
Mike wasn't taken in. "At 10 at night?" he said. "And what is the English
paper, which was in the drawer of my desk, doing on top of it? You'll have to do
better than that, Martine."
She started to protest, but he held up the camera. "It's all in here, Martine,
including pictures of you copying the paper. You can argue until you are blue in
the face, but no-one's going to believe you when they see the photos."
"You wouldn't do that!" she gasped.
"Why ever not. You were cheating, and you deserve to be punished."
"But if you show that photo to the authorities, my whole career will be ruined.
You know that if I am thrown out for cheating, I shall; never be allowed into
another university in the country."
"You should have thought of that before you did it," said Mike, in an unkindly
tone.
"Oh please, please, Mr. Granger, don't tell on me," pleaded the girl, tears
starting in her eyes. Mike was tempted towards leniency, and then he though of
all the trouble she had caused him, and his heart hardened.
"You've been caught cheating, and it is my duty to bring the matter to the
attention of the Head of the Department. It is, after all, a serious matter," he
said.
By now the girl was looking really scared, and desperate. "Mr. Granger, please,
please don't do that. I'll do anything you want, anything, but please don't get
me thrown out!"
Mike, who, up to this point, had thought of nothing but having the matter dealt
with in the usual way, started to have the germ of an idea. She really did
deserve punishment, but maybe that could be arranged in such a way that her
university career was not ruined, whilst he could get his own back on this
little bitch who had caused him so much trouble.
"Sit down," he told her, and she sat on the chair in front of his desk. Standing
behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders. "Did you really mean it, Martine,
when you said that you would do anything to avoid being expelled from the
University?" he asked her.
She nodded. "Anything?", he asked again. "You know what that means, don't you?"
She turned her head towards him, and then blushed crimson as the implication of
his words, allied to the feel of his hands on her shoulders, got through to her.
She turned her head away and remained silent.
"OK, Martine, you can go now", said Mike. "I expect the Head of Department will
send for you some time tomorrow".
"No!", she gasped. "I'll do what you want!"
"Sure?" She nodded, helplessly.
"OK. Tomorrow is Saturday. The exams are in a month's time. I've come to the
conclusion that the best solution is for me to punish you myself. That way your
career won't be ruined, but you won't be getting away scot-free. Of course, your
punishment will take any form I see fit, and you will accept it. Agreed?" She
nodded again. "OK, then I will pick you up here, on the campus, outside the
Department, at 7 in the evening, three weeks from today That's the Easter
weekend, so we will have the Monday free as well. Make sure that you are free
for the whole weekend. And Martine, one word of any of this to anyone, and these
photos go straight to the University authorities. If you change your mind about
this in the meantime, let me know. Now you can go."
The girl rose and left the office. Alone again, Mike sat down and chuckled to
himself. This business was made to order: he was feeling randy, the girl was
guilty as hell, he had no compunction about what he was going to do and she
wouldn't say a word about it, for fear of getting the sack. All he had to do now
was plan the weekend, and that would be a pleasure!
Getting up, he tucked the offending exam paper into his briefcase - no point in
tempting Fate a second time - locked his office and started down the corridor.
As he did so, he had the impression that a door closed quietly behind him, but
when he turned around there was neither sound nor movement. Shaking his head, he
went on down the stairs, his thoughts on the coming weekend with Martine.
Back at the house, he made himself a quick meal, poured a drink and settled down
in an armchair, thinking about what he would do with the girl. One thing was for
sure, she was going to get punished, and she was going to have to accept
whatever he did to her, he'd make sure of that. He went into the other room,
switched on his computer, opened the Netscape connection and started logging on
to BDSM sites. He was sure to find some good ideas for dealing with her there!
After, he would take a look at one or two other sites, see what special
furniture and instruments he could cook up in the coming couple of weeks. It
looked like Martine was in for a long, hot weekend!
