The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Adjusters I: Whatever Happened to Marjorie Duquesne?

Chapter 8: The New American Deal Association Bash

“You ready for the party tonight?” asked Jenn, relaxing on the couch with a book and a mug of tea, freshly showered and her long dark hair still wet, having just returned from an early Saturday afternoon workout session.

“No, but I doubt that’ll change anything. Partying with the New American Deal Association.” Daniel shook his head. “My advisor may just kick me out of the program and take my degree away.”

“You haven’t got your degree yet.”

“I know. That makes it even worse.”

He looked out the window, waiting. He had no idea what the evening would bring, and the uncertainty was making him nervous. Serena had managed to trick him into attending a party of what was essentially a neo-Nazi organization on the basis of information she had received that the elusive Marjorie would be making an appearance. How or why was unknown, but Serena did not want to miss a single chance of finding her friend. Daniel was glad she could not go herself—being a black girl would have seriously put her in danger. He knew exactly what kind of folks gravitated to NADA, the New American Deal Association. He really did not want to go himself, but Serena had convinced Radhu to go, and Daniel had serious misgivings about Radhu going there alone. Not only was he Indian, but he was different. People often reacted strangely to his behavior. Daniel had reluctantly offered to go in his place, but Radhu had been elated to be able to help Serena, and was taking his assigned duty seriously. So Daniel was accompanying his friend to keep him out of trouble. But he felt no compulsion to have to like it.

“It’ll be fine,” said Jenn. “Don’t worry.”

Daniel grunted. “Why should I worry? NADA—they’re idiots, and dangerous idiots at that. If Marjorie wants to hang out with them, that’s her business. She’s a grown-up, isn’t she? I mean, she’s half-Asian, right? And we know what NADA thinks of Asians, never mind the mixed race ancestry.”

“We don’t know what’s going on. Serena couldn’t find out anything else about the party besides the fact that Marjorie would be there. We don’t even know if she’s going to be there willingly. And at the first sign of trouble, you all take off, we agreed.”

Daniel muttered under his breath that it was all good and well as long as they actually had time to take off at the first sign of trouble. Then he sighed and turned to Jenn. “By the way, next Saturday, I’m taking you out. Dinner. Nice place. It’ll be a surprise.”

“Sure. I’m always up for nice dinners. What’s the occasion?”

“Talking about our future. It’ll be early December.”

“Oh.” Jenn grew quiet, serious. “I see. Okay. Next Saturday. Sounds good. Tell me when and where?”

“I will.”

There was a pause. “I want you to know, I really want to ask you what your thoughts are about next year, but I know that I said that I wanted to wait...” She let the unspoken implicature hanging in the air, the one that told him that if he wanted to talk now, it would be fine with her.

“It’s all right, waiting for Saturday is probably a good idea anyways. Gives me a chance to make sure everything is perfect.”

The door bell rang before she could question him further.

Radhu and Serena were at the door, and ushered themselves in.

“I wish I could go with you tonight,” Serena said before even saying hello.

“And I wish you’d quit asking. No way. You’re not going. I’m not going to have your death on my conscience, young lady.”

Serena turned to Jenn. “He’s kindda cute when he gets all parental, isn’t he?”

“Sorry about that.” Daniel amended. “But I really think it’s a bad idea. Even Radhu going’s a bad idea, frankly. It’s all a bad idea.”

“So are you going to restrain me here?” Radhu replied. “Put me, like Serena, under the watchful eye of Jennifer the Enforcer?” There was a subtle hint of challenge in his voice. Daniel sighed in defeat.

“I just want you to know that Serena is here so we can spend some quality girl time together tonight while you boys are out playing.”

“Anything good on the menu?” asked Daniel.

“We haven’t decided yet,” said Jenn.

“Perhaps we should call up some friends, make it a party of our own,” added Serena. “What’s that girl’s name, Tannaka, or something? She’s fun, and she’s definitely cute.” Jenn reddened slightly, and Daniel wondered how much she had revealed to their friend.

“Okay,” Daniel turned to Radhu, “let’s go before I am reminded just how utterly stupid we are to be going. Bye, girls.”

“If you see Marjorie, don’t let her out of your sight, and try to get her to come with you. And call me if anything happens, okay? Anything at all.”

“Do not worry, Serena,” replied Radhu. “We shall keep you informed should anything pertinent arise.”

Leaving the two girls to their evening together, Daniel and Radhu walked to their destination, a large house off of College Drive, home of NADA. They stopped along the way to purchase a case of beer, the informal price of admission to such events. During the walk, Daniel explained to Radhu what he knew of the history and background of the association. It had been formed fifteen years earlier as a splinter group of the local ultra-conservative association, and had managed to attract the extreme conservative intellectuals of the University. It also appealed to the more plebeian elements who saw the increase of immigration and desegregation in America as heralds of Armageddon, and were very vocal about it. NADA had organized several manifestations on campus, and had found itself in trouble with the law on more than one occasion.

The NADA house, which turned out to be one block from the apartment building where Lake the drug dealer lived, was easy to find. It greeted them with the unmistakable sounds of partying. Several houses on the street were leaking a similar kind of invitation, some having seen their party breaking out into their front yard. A typical weekend night in the Ghetto.

Walking up the front steps of the NADA house, Daniel and Radhu were stopped by a mountain of a man sitting on a stool by the door. His arms were three times the diameter of Daniel’s head, and he looked like he had swallowed a barrel whole. He wore a tight-fitting black shirt with “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” stenciled in yellow.

“And where do you think you’re going?” he asked, holding up a hand large enough to swat a rhinoceros.

Daniel lifted the case of beer. “We’re here for the party, my man, and we come bearing gifts.”

“Give me one good reason why I should let you inside.” He looked directly at Radhu, his face unreadable. Radhu remained impassible.

“Because I’ve got a standing invite from Steve, a fellow student in my department, and I believe one of your directors or something?”

The bouncer looked ready to retort with something caustic but was preempted by a figure behind him at the door.

“Well, well, well... I’ll be fucked! Daniel Malcolm! What are you doing here?”

“Speaking of the devil...” Daniel’s smile was uneasy. “Hey Steve. You told me last year that I should drop by one of these days. Didn’t feel like sitting home alone tonight, and figured it was high time I took you up on your offer to drop by. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Come in, join the fun. You’re probably the last person I expected to show up, but hey—the more the merrier. Speaking of which...” He turned to Radhu, as if he had only then noticed him. “You brought company. Nice. Steve Bissonette.” He extended a hand. Radhu shook it.

“Radhu Krishnamurthy. Pleasure.”

“Indeed, indeed. Well, any friend of Daniel here is a friend of mine. Come in, enjoy yourselves. And I hope you will be able to join some of our games later. Good clean fun.”

He nodded at the scowling bouncer and turned to reenter the house, but not before flashing a somewhat calculating look in Radhu’s direction, a look that worried the hyper-sensitive Daniel. Nonetheless, he followed Steve inside, Radhu in tow.

The NADA house was in full-on party mode. The crowd consisted mostly of students from the university, as opposed to locals that NADA had recruited over the years. People were clustered into small groups, spread across the many rooms of the first floor of the house. The upper floors, Daniel guessed, housed the offices of the association, along with possibly bedrooms for the officers that elected to live in the house proper. Most people were holding and drinking beers, a few something stronger. Daniel found his way to the kitchen, and unloaded his case of beer next to the available supply, exchanging greetings with a group of kids that had posted themselves at a strategic point near the alcohol stash.

Radhu had followed Daniel, all the while looking around with the conspicuous air of a detective on the hunt for his quarry. He was drawing attention, much of it still subdued, but bound to become more blatant as people grew more inebriated. Daniel could not help but notice that everyone was white, and the majority were male. The partying girls were clearly dates, hanging on the arm of the boy they came with. Daniel doubted any of them were actually in the association.

Radhu seemed oblivious to the attention. He was busy examining carefully every girl they encountered, both the dates and the catering staff. The latter ones were walking around carrying small trays loaded either with appetizers or with drinks, and were clearly meant to lend a hint of class to the party. They were all beautiful, and were dressed to emphasize their beauty. They wore uniforms reminiscent of those Halloween versions of the typical cocktail waitress uniform, a white shirt and painfully short black pleated skirt with black nylons and very high heels. They were all thin and curvy, and flirted freely, smiling at everyone, thrusting their chests out, swaying noticeably when they walked. All of them, Daniel noted with interest, sported a silver charms bracelet on their wrist similar to the one that Marjorie had dropped behind the strip club.

Radhu was not in the least distracted by these beauties, despite their flirty smiles and come-hither wiggles of the hips. He was looking at them intently, certainly, but looking at their faces. He was searching for Marjorie, and seemed exceedingly serious about it.

Daniel struck a few conversations to try to get a feel for the party mood, and try to feel less alienated. He shied away from topics he knew would lead to violent arguments, focusing instead on the eternally neutral subjects of sports, girls, and—oddly enough— German philosophy. Radhu, meanwhile, finished his circuit of the rooms and, having picked up a drink, was sipping it quietly in the arch of a hallway, keeping an eye on every girl that passed by.

A cocktail waitress approached Daniel to offer him a new beer in exchange for his empty one. She was a thin redhead with short pixie hair, mischievous green eyes, and a perfect smile. And she had the body to die for of all the girls working the party.

“Sorry to bother you with this,” he asked her as she handed him his beer, “but you girls are not part of the association, are you?”

“The group having the party? Oh no, not at all. They hired us for the night, for catering and entertainment. My name’s Kyra.” Her voice was crystalline and happy, sounding like she was about to burst out laughing at any moment. She leaned towards Daniel when she spoke and he could hardly help but be aware of her proximity. Her left breast brushed against his arm.

“Huh, nice to meet you. I’m Daniel.”

“Hi Daniel. How about you, are you in this association?”

“No, no. I’m just passing by. Partying, you know, having a good time.”

She flashed a large smile. “I know exactly what you mean. If I wasn’t here to work, I’d be partying my little ass off. And I might even be hitting on you, too.” She gave him an unmistakeable glance, still smiling.

He smiled back, somewhat apologetically. “I doubt my girlfriend would appreciate that, though.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Hey, if she was cute, perhaps I’d hit on her as well. Maybe we could have had a party, the three of us.”

Before Daniel could respond, an elated shout erupted from the other end of the room. “Dan? Oh! My! God! Too much!”

A blonde streak jumped in front of him and swallowed him in a hug. Cindy. Of course. She hugged him and gave him a big kiss on the cheek, although she did seem to hesitate and almost kiss him on the lips.

She was dressed as a cocktail waitress just like Kyra was, but she filled her uniform like Kyra could not, even though she was shorter than the pixie-haired redhead. Cindy had pulled her blonde hair into a ponytail that exposed her neck, and her shirt was stretched over her chest in a way that drew the eye to her breasts like little else could. And her skirt—shorter than Kyra’s, with a touch of a flare, reaching just below her crotch, and exposing her delicious legs, which Daniel had of course seen before, but never sheathed in sheer nylon. And she stood perched on impossibly tall stiletto heels, giving her an additional four inches and bridging half the height gap that usually separated them. Daniel made a concerted effort not to stare. The visual was a bit much for him. The analytical part of his mind wondered where this rush of libido came from, lately. It couldn’t be just from this silly game that he and Jenn had played, could it?

Cindy had kept on talking throughout Daniel’s examination.

“What are you doing here?” she was saying. “I thought you didn’t go for this NADA stuff? Hurt your democratic sensibilities or something.”

“Just dropping by to see some friends. I was looking for someone, thought they might be here tonight.”

Kyra was looking at Cindy appreciatively. “She your girlfriend?”

Cindy laughed, shaking her head. “I wish! No, sadly, this stud Dan here is taken. In fact, is Jenn here tonight?". She looked around the room.

“No,” replied Daniel, “she decided to stay home.”

Cindy’s eyes flashed. “So I got you all to myself tonight, then? Amazing. This night keeps getting better and better. Perhaps I can finally convince you that blondes do indeed have more fun.” And she put her hand on a cocked hip when she said that, drawing his eye to her waist, her hips, and of course, her legs. Cindy exuded sexiness that night, and several guys around them whistled at her. This was way beyond her usual teasing, thought Daniel.

“Huh, we’ll see,” he replied, ever diplomatic. “Why are you here, Cin?”

“Oh, the frat sent me and the other girls to cater and entertain. The pay’s pretty good, too.”

“The frat?”

“You know, Delta Iota Kappa. They often help out with parties.”

Daniel’s eyes stole to the silver charms bracelet that Cindy wore around her left wrist, whose charms he knew spelled out the fraternity’s name. Kyra’s write sported such a charms bracelet as well.

Before he could ask Kyra about her bracelet, though, she was called away by a group of boys clamoring for drinks, and with a nod to Cindy and a smile and a wink to Daniel she turned and walked away. Daniel admired the way her body swayed as she balanced herself expertly on her heels.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?”

Daniel could not deny it, and did not. Instead, he asked, “Cin, what are you doing here, really?”

“I told you, just helping out, making a bit of pocket money, and having a little bit of fun.” She looked around then leaned in close. Daniel felt the heat of her body, the press of her breasts against him, and he knew Cindy was not trying to avoid contact, quite the contrary. She whispered conspiratorially:

“In fact, keep your eyes peeled. There’s going to be a little special treat for everyone later, and you’ll want to be quick and pick me up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Can’t tell you yet. Just remember: come and find me.”

Pulling back from him, she gave him a big dramatic wink, kicked her hip up a little bit, a move that send her short skirt flying, then she giggled and practically skipped away from him, her ponytail bouncing with ever step. Daniel’s imagination supplied the visual of Cindy on her knees, leaning forward, her diminutive skirt flipped over her back, presenting and offering him her ass. Fuck, he thought, what’s wrong with me?

He shook his head, took a deep breath, and remembered that he was here to make sure that Radhu stayed out of trouble. Daniel looked around, but did not see him. He started circulating, nodding to the few people he knew, responding politely to the flirty smiles of the sexy cocktail waitresses, fighting hard not to imagine Cindy or Kyra stripping out of their skimpy costume, or even Jenn, his beloved Jenn with her long legs and slim dancer’s body that would be perfect for it.

He was stopped by yet another beautiful cocktail waitress who was carrying a large cookie jar, and who handed him a pad with an attached pen.

“Hi there! Please write down your name and drop it in the jar. It’s for the raffle later tonight.”

“What’s being raffled?”

“Oh, it’s a surprise. But it’s nice, I can promise you that. You really want to participate.”

Daniel shrugged. As he dropped the folded piece of paper in the jar, he saw the charms bracelet around her left wrist. He pointed to it.

“That’s pretty,” he said. “What is it?”

She lifted her arm, hand in the air. “Just a little something I got a few weeks back. I really find it highlights my skin tone, doesn’t it?”

“That it does. But where did you get it? I... huh... I’m looking for a gift for my girlfriend, and something like that might just do the trick.”

“It’s not something you can buy, I’m afraid.” She nodded to the jar, and smiled. “Thanks for participating!”

She moved on to a group of partygoers, repeating her raffle spiel, and never responding to his question about the bracelet. It matched what Cindy had told him a week earlier about the girls reluctance to talk about it. The mystery was vaguely starting to annoy him.

He finally found Radhu in one of the back rooms of the house, still sipping a drink in a corner, quietly watching everyone like a hawk. Daniel noted with a nagging worry that people were giving Radhu a wide berth, as if he were diseased. Radhu acknowledged Daniel’s arrival with a nod.

“So,” Daniel said, leaning against the wall next to his friend. “All good?”

“That depends strongly on your definition of good. Insofar as our mission is concerned, I have to confess to utter failure. I have not managed to identify Marjorie Duquesne at this party. We might wish to entertain the possibility that the information Serena unearthed was erroneous.”

“True. So what do you suggest? I’m tempted to call it a night. To be honest, this party’s starting to give me the creeps.”

“I propose we give ourselves another hour or so. It is but early, and our quarry may not have arrived yet. In the meantime, I would like to direct your attention to the fact that the serving ladies, all fourteen of them, all wear a bracelet reminiscent of the one we hypothesize Marjorie had been wearing.”

“I noticed. I tried to talk to a few of the girls about it, but they all avoided the question.”

Before Radhu could give his analysis, everyone in the room started filing out. Daniel and Radhu exchanged a look, then followed the throng.

A crowd was gathering in one of the larger living rooms, in which a small platform had been built, fronted by two tables on which what looked like olympic bronze medals each with a leather string were laid out and aligned.

A man that Daniel recognized as one of the officers of NADA jumped up on the platform and, after surveying the assembly, waved to ask for silence.

“Friends, welcome to the end-of-year NADA bash, one of our more cherished traditions. Have no fear, I will not make any long speeches tonight.” Everyone laughed on cue, and Daniel guessed that this was an old joke. “So let me get to the good stuff. We have a few activities planned for this evening, activities that I believe you will find eminently enjoyable. The first one, and the one we are the most... ahem.. excited about, is this. I hope that you have all noticed the friendly and dare I say beautiful staff that has been waiting on us tonight.” Applause, whistles, and catcalls erupted, the speaker joining in the applause.

“Well, you’ll love what’s next. What you see in front of you on these tables are fourteen medallions, each inscribed with the name of one of our charming waitresses. Each of our fourteen beauties has agreed to obey whomever is wearing the medallion bearing her name. And what I mean by obey, you bunch of sick perverts, I’m sure you can guess. The idea is simple—grab a medallion, slip it around your neck, find the corresponding girl. The fun is in the chase, right? When you get in contact with the girl whose medallion you’re wearing, you’ll know. Now, we’ve made plenty of rooms available upstairs on the second floor, feel free to use them. I will ask you to respect a twenty minutes limit with each girl. They will enforce it themselves. I will also ask you to only wear one medallion at a time. Finally, no hiding medallions—play nice. To ensure everything goes smoothly, some of our security folks are here to help. Trust me, you do not want to have to explain your actions to them.” Uneasy general chuckle. “Any question?”

The cheering was so loud that any question was drowned out. Daniel was getting worried about the turn the evening was taking. In the back of his head, he thought about leggy Kyra. And then he remembered what Cindy had told him earlier, and wondered if this was the treat to which she had been referring.

“Are there any limits to what we can do with the girls?” asked one boy, managing to shout over the general clamor.

“Folks, please. Could we have a bit of decorum? Thank you. To answer your question, the only limit is that you are not to mark the girls in any permanent way, so no deep bruising, no cutting, no scarring, that sort of thing. Aside from that, all is fair fame. People, these girls are here to satisfy your deepest, nastiest, most perverted desires. I suggest you try them out. Enjoy yourselves. And don’t forget, additional activities are planned throughout the night, including our raffle at midnight. Which, believe me, you will not want to miss.”

There was applause and hooting, all followed by a mad scramble for the tables. A few fights threatened to break, and Daniel could not shake the foreboding feeling that the evening would end badly. In his own way, Radhu agreed:

“This is inherently suboptimal. If they wanted to maximize fairness, they should have instated a form of lottery, perhaps one that takes into account personal preferences. Mmmm... That’s an interesting problem. What are the algorithmics at play here?”

Daniel looked at his friend, fascinated by Radhu’s ability to absorb himself in a problem in the midst of any situation. He almost explained to his friend how having guys fight for possession of those medallions might in fact be considered a form of foreplay for the NADA crowd, doubly so if the intent was to gain access to girls, a not entirely unexpected development from a group that championed a male racial supremacy. How NADA had managed to convince these girls, though, was beyond him. He had not perceived any hint of coercion when chatting with Kyra and Cindy earlier, and Cindy at least had seemed to know more or less what was going to happen. Then again, Cindy seemed special, as evidenced by the fact that she talked to him freely about being a dick girl.

All around Daniel, boys that had managed to snatch medallions were looking for their partner. Daniel followed one of them, a tall boy exuding confidence and that had no need of trick medallions to pick up girls but that nevertheless was wearing one around his neck. He was whistling as if trying to catch a bird or squirrel’s attention. He caught the eye of every cocktail waitress that passed him by, but none reacted.

Finally he ran into a tall blonde with a generous chest. When she saw him, she put her arms around his neck and spoke to him, staring straight into his eyes. The boy responded. Daniel was too far to hear the exchange. The girl kissed the boy, gently, the kiss rapidly turning more aggressive. She pushed herself against him, and he enlaced her. She leaned into him, wrapping one leg around his. He responded by running a hand up her raised thigh, lifting the short skirt to reveal her stocking top, and bringing his hand to roughly caress her rear. That only seemed to make her hotter, and she started to slowly hump him, her hips shifting against his crotch. It was a blatant display of wantonness, repeated around them with other waitresses and other boys.

Then the tall boy spoke to the blonde girl again, and they both turned and headed to the staircase that led to the second floor. They had their arms wrapped around each other’s waist, and the boy’s hand was still on the girl’s ass, lifting her skirt, giving everyone a perfect view of the G-string she was wearing. They went up the stairs that way, the girl nuzzling the man’s neck and cheek and ear.

A few other couples headed up the stairs as well, every girl a cocktail waitress, every girl with a charms bracelet. Daniel’s gut told him that the bracelets were important, but the why eluded him. What kind of girl would do something like that, give herself up for whatever sick desire those NADA bastards might have? What about Cindy? Kyra? What about Marjorie? Where was she? She used to have a bracelet. He looked around. Radhu was gone. The party had radically shifted. The lights had been dimmed while Daniel was not paying attention, and couples were kissing and making out all over the place. The rest of the folks were drinking and watching, often commenting rudely.

Daniel pulled out his cellphone, and looked for a quieter spot. He called home, where Jenn answered.

“Hi lover. How’s the party?”

“You know—bunch of bigoted sexist neo-Nazis. So just peachy. Is Serena there?”

“Sure. Why didn’t you call her cell?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice. Makes me feel better. The place is creepy. You guys having a good time?”

“We are. We rented a couple of chick flicks, made some popcorn. Very high school. It’s fun. You should know,” and here Daniel could tell Jenn was grinning through the phone, “we’re both in our bras and panties. And you should see the little number Serena has on. It’s practically see-through, and whatever little material there is would just evaporate if you breathed on it. That girl has a body to make you drool.”

Daniel groaned. “Now you’re just messing with me.”

“Maybe you should just come back home and find out. I’ll get Serena. Bye!”

Daniel sighed and shook his head. With Jenn in such a teasing playful mood, no wonder he had sex on the brain all the time.

“Daniel,” he heard Serena on the phone. “What’s up? Marjorie?”

Daniel told her they had not seen Marjorie yet, and summarized the evening. Serena was quick to pick up on his unspoken insight.

“So those girls with the bracelets are offering themselves. You think they’re doing it of their own volition?”

“I didn’t get the feeling they’re being forced into it. You think they’re being threatened in some way?”

“Could be. But it’s just one more weird uncharacteristic behavior. Remember Marjorie at the strip club? She was acting weird too, not at all forced. Same with these girls you’re describing.”

“So they’re acting weird, but not forced into it. I mean, this ain’t Kittens’ Den.”

“If you asked Radhu, I’m sure he could give you a slew of conspiracies that belies what you just said. Okay, can you find out as much as you can why those girls are so ready and willing to act the way they are, while looking for Marjorie?”

“While also keeping an eye on Radhu to make sure he doesn’t get in trouble. Sure. All in a day’s job.”

“Fuck, I wish I was there.”

“Down, Miss Reporter. I don’t like the vibe of this place right now, and would hate it way more if you were here. Go and finish your quiet girlie evening with Jenn.”

Serena mumbled something. Daniel was not sure he wanted to know what it was. “I’ll call you later with an update.”

He pocketed his cell phone and looked around. Radhu was still nowhere to be seen. A few boys with medallions around their neck were making out with cocktail girls, taking the kind of liberties with their bodies that Daniel found difficult to believe those girls would tolerate. One girl, for instance, had her white shirt unbuttoned and spread open, breasts out in the air, evidently not wearing a bra, and was letting a boy with a medallion suck on one of her nipples, while a group of boys clustered around them were hurling epithets at her. She seemed completely oblivious to them, limiting her reactions to moans in response to the attention given to her chest.

Further down, another cocktail girl was leaning forward against a wall, bent at the waist, her short skirt flipped over her back, her legs spread, and a boy—again with a medallion around his neck— was fingering her. The girl seemed to be enjoying herself, if the expression on her face and the movement of her ass against the invading fingers were any indication. She was also completely unaffected by the cheering and hooting of the circle of boys that had formed around them.

As he was nearing the stairs, Daniel saw a figure he recognized up on the steps. He could not immediately place the man, who was older than the average partygoer, and just stared at him, trying to remember where he had seen him before, and why his subconscious kept screaming that this was important. It was only when the man turned as if sensing that eyes were on him that Daniel flashed: this was the man who had pushed Marjorie into the limousine in the alley behind The Spirited Flesh. The man, either recognizing him or tipped off by Daniel’s reaction, jumped and sprinted up the stairs. Daniel started after him, but was slowed down by the throng between him and the stairs. When he reached the bottom of the steps, the man was long gone. Daniel raced up, intent on finding him.

The second floor of the NADA house consisted of a large hallway littered with doors and scores of people. Daniel could not see his quarry. Nor could he see Marjorie.

A couple emerged from one of the rooms, a cocktail waitress and a big guy, both with a look of having had supremely satisfying sex. The guy, in particular, looked like he was about to collapse, his face drenched in a sheen of sweat. Daniel had a momentary feeling of revulsion as he pictured the big flabby body jiggling about and pounding the sexy little thing next to him, which was perhaps unfair, but the night had irritated Daniel’s sense of appropriateness and turned it into snarkiness.

He tried to open some of the doors, ignoring the disapproving looks from people mulling about in the hallway. What they were doing there, he did not know; they seemed to be talking and drinking. The first few doors Daniel tried were locked.

When the knob of the fifth door turned, he peered carefully inside. The sight stopped him in his tracks. The room beyond was a small bedroom common to dormitories everywhere, equipped with a minuscule bed against one wall and a desk on the other, with a few shelves lining the remaining walls. College-boy posters throned over everything.

On the bed, Kyra, the pixie-haired redhead he had talked to earlier, was on her hands and knees between two reed-thin college boys. She was naked save for her black heels, and she was busy sucking the cock of the boy in front of her while the boy kneeling behind her was fucking her with long deep thrusts. The boys had their tee shirts on but were naked from the waist down. They also had kept their socks.

Daniel wanted to close the door, since neither the man from the stairs nor Marjorie was in the room, but he hesitated. His eyes were drawn to Kyra. His initial assessment had been on the nose—she had a perfect body, lean and toned and without a single ounce of extra fat anywhere. She was buffeted between the two boys, pushed forward by the thrust of one onto the cock of the other. Both cocks sank deep on every thrust, Kyra seeming to have no problem accepting them. She was drooling, and a small pool of spit was forming on the bed beneath her face. She seemed completely oblivious to it, her eyes closed, a moan of pleasure escaping her throat on particularly hard thrusts from the man fucking her. The man shoving his cock in Kyra’s mouth wore a medallion about his neck that swung in time with his own thrusts.

Daniel realized in a flash why Kyra intrigued and attracted him so— she reminded him of Jenn, of course, her toned body, her sleekness and elegance, her impish smile. And that realization made the scene he was witnessing that much more troubling. He had but to squint to see Jenn being taken at both ends on that bed, a vision that enraged and aroused him at the same time. He shook his head—he would have to address this stupid voyeuristic tendency of his before it got him into even more trouble than it already had.

“Come on, you little cunt, time for some serious fun now.” The boy with the cock in Kyra’s mouth, bearer of the medallion, pulled her head up and got off the bed. The boy behind her started to protest that he was not finished, but was told to shut up.

“We’re not done, you dumbass. We’re just trying something different.”

He lay on his back on the bed. His cock was sticking straight up, still shiny from Kyra’s attention. He jerked himself off a few times to keep himself hard, then motioned to Kyra.

“Sit on top of me, you cunt. Facing my feet.”

“Of course, sir.”

It came out perfectly submissive, a far cry from the teasing and playful Kyra Daniel had met earlier that evening. Good acting, he thought.

She climbed on top of the boy, crouched above his cock, and holding it in her slim hand lined it up against her pussy.

“Not there, you dumb fuck. Put it in your ass.”

“Yes, sir.”

Without any hesitation, she shifted position slightly. Holding on to the cock now presumably lined up with her rear opening, slowly, ever so slowly, she sank down on the hard shaft.

“Fuck, yes! Oh man, that’s one tight hole you got there. Oh fuck! Fuck!”

With relentless effort, Kyra pushed the cock inside her, until at last it was completely embedded in her ass, and she was sitting on the boy’s hips. The boy seemed ecstatic, all groans and moans.

“Fuck yeah, you cunt! That’s good. Now move that pretty ass of yours up and down. Fuck me like the dirty whore you are.”

And Kyra obeyed. Leaning back with her hands on either side of the boy’s body, and with her legs pushing off against the bed, she lifted herself off his cock, before pushing back down, and again, and again. The boy countered her thrusts with thrusts of his own, trying to push even deeper into her.

The other boy, on the side of the bed, was taking in the scene with trepidation. “Can I go next?”

The boy fucking Kyra’s ass snorted. “Why wait? Just get on board and shove it in that slut cunt of hers. She’ll like it, you’ll see.”

“But...”

“Just think how tight she’ll be. Go on. Besides, we’re running out of time here.”

The boy hesitated, then climbed between the couple’s legs. The first boy addressed Kyra. “You’re going to let him fuck you while I fuck your ass. And you’re gonna make it good for him.”

“Yes, sir,” was Kyra’s only reply.

The second boy put his cock against Kyra’s slit, and pushed. “Fuck, you’re right! It’s like... it’s fucking amazing!”

“Told you. Come on, you cunt, kiss my bro here like he’s the most wonderful lover you’ve ever had—I told you, make it good for him. And move that ass of yours. It’s not ‘cause he’s there that you can forget about me.”

Kyra put her arms around the second boy’s neck, holding on to him to avoid falling back on the boy underneath her, and kissed him, deeply, almost languorously, pulling her body up to his in a lover’s embrace. The boy kissed her back, roughly, and sank his cock deep inside her, groaning as he did so. Kyra shifted her hips, pushed back against him, then shifted again to push back against the cock in her ass.

The threesome on the bed soon found a rhythm, alternatively fucking the pixie-haired girl with deep thrust that made her quiver. Daniel closed his eyes, and silently shut the door. He did not know how to feel about what he had witnessed. Seeing Kyra letting herself be abused like that made him wonder how he could have misjudged her so much.

People in the hallway looked at him when he closed the door and were ready to tell him off for peeping or cutting in line or something, but Daniel shot them a dark angry look that appeared to cow them. They returned to their conversation, and he headed down the hallway trying the remaining doors, looking for either Marjorie or the man from the alley. All the doors were locked. He went back to the stairs, back to the first floor.

He was searching for Radhu when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Cindy behind him, her typical bright smile on her face. He immediately saw that her hair was disheveled, her makeup was just a bit smudged, and her costume had small suspicious stains on it. He wondered how often she had been taken upstairs.

“Hey Dan! I’ve been looking for you.”

“Really? I’ve been looking for Radhu myself. And Marjorie. Have you seen either of them?” He would have asked about the man from the alley as well, had he had a better description than tall and broad shouldered with short dark hair, a not very distinguishing portrait.

“Saw Radhu a few hours ago, but haven’t seen him since. And I didn’t know Marjorie was supposed to be here. Haven’t seen her either.” Cindy looked bashful for a second, then continued. “Huh, Dan?”

“Yeah?” Daniel was scanning the crowd, by now almost inured to the kissing, groping, and blatant making out going on around him.

“Here.” And Cindy tossed something at his head, and he felt a weight slam against his chest. Looking down, he saw a medallion hanging there, big and heavy.

“What the hell?” he started, but stopped when he looked up and saw Cindy. She was staring ahead, not quite at him, but rather through him. Her face was completely blank, her eyes expressionless. “Cindy, you all right?”

Her eyes refocussed slowly. and looked at him, a fire behind them. Her smile grew naughty, one that he had never seen on her face. She took a step towards him, stood on her toes to be closer to his height, and looked at him directly in the eyes, her voice low and throaty:

“I’m perfectly fine, sir.” She put a lot of emphasis on that last word. “I am just awaiting instructions.”

“Come on, Cin, cut it out. I’ve got no time for games. I’m worried about Radhu.”

“This is not a game. You are wearing my medallion, and that makes me your obedient servant. And I can be very obedient. Whatever do you wish?” Her expressions made what she meant clear.

Daniel shook his head. This was getting crazy. “Why did you put this thing around my neck?”

“Because I want to be yours. I have had a crush on you for a while now. But you seem completely infatuated with your girlfriend, and I can’t really compete with her, can I? I’m not as pretty, I’m not as elegant, I’m not as experienced at satisfying men. I thought by making myself available to you like this, you might just be a little bit interested. I mean, I’m happy to do things to you that no one has ever done before, if you want.” Her lips brushed his ear, her voice barely audible over the noise of the party. “Is there anything that your cherished Jenn will not do? Does she deep-throat you? Does she swallow? Does she let you come all over her face, her tits? You can do all of that to me, and more. Does she let you fuck her ass, Dan? Does your pretty and elegant Jenn let you ream her ass with your big cock, Dan? I will, and believe me, my ass hole is tight, tighter than anything you’ve ever had around your cock. I’ll beg, Dan, if you want. I’ll beg and plead for you to fuck me.” Her breath was hot in his ear. His cock had hardened in his slacks, and Cindy could undoubtedly feel it against her hip. She wiggled her pelvis against him. “I saw you looking at that other girl, the leggy one, Kyra? I can help you get her medallion too, and you can have us both. I’ve never fucked another girl before, but I’ll do it for you. What do you say, you want to get yourself a little double-team action?”

He took a step back from her, and lifted the medallion from his neck and pocketed it, breathing hard. Cindy’s face went blank for a few seconds, then she refocussed again, and looked at him with a quizzical expression on her face. She smiled, tentatively, the small smile of hers that he was used to seeing. “Dan? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just... I don’t know. This is all too fucking weird for me.” Before he could continue, people started gathering and filing away back to the room with the platform, and Daniel followed them, Cindy in tow. Daniel looked around for Radhu. The sooner he found him, the sooner they could leave this madhouse.

The same speaker that had told them about the medallions was back on the platform, enjoining everyone to file into the room. There was a small table in the middle of the platform with a cookie jar in it, the same jar in which names had been collected earlier in the evening.

The speaker called for attention. There was a buzz in the air; given how satisfying the previous announcement had been, everyone seemed to have great hopes about this one.

“Folks,” began the speaker when the noise had reduced to a murmur, “I am pleased to see that you have been enjoying our gifts this evening, and I trust that the girls have been performing to everyone’s satisfaction, yes?”

A great cheer rose up to that proclamation. The audience was volatile, thought Daniel, who was growing nervous. He wanted to leave.

“Excellent. Thank you. As you know, we’re holding a raffle tonight, and we’re about to pick the winner’s name out of this jar. But first, I should show you the prize!”

The speaker pulled out a medallion. It looked like all the other medallions Daniel had seen that evening, except gold instead of bronze. The speaker held it up high, and it swung slowly on its string. “Folks, this medallion here is similar to those you have been playing with for the last few hours and controls one of our old friends here at NADA. You remember, of course, the article that came out last year in the Daily about our little organization, the one where they accused us—shamefully, I must add—of violence towards so-called minorities. The crux of the article, which you’ll recall launched an investigation that forced us to spend a lot of political capital, was a series of pictures snapped by a nosy half-breed photographer. Well, tonight, I am delighted, utterly delighted, to present to you the prize of our end-of-year bash raffle: a week in full control of our little half-breed photographer, who will do nothing less than submit to every sick fantasy your perverted mind can come up with. And to pick our raffle winner, here is Miss Half-Breed herself, our nosy photographer in the flesh, I give you, MD!”

Incongruously, a cheer went up, all around Daniel, as a figure draped in a trench coat joined the speaker on the platform. A woman, with long brown hair, perched on stiletto heels, she stopped next to the speaker and turned to the crowd. Daniel recognized her from her stint at The Spirited Flesh. It was indeed Marjorie, heavily made-up, and sporting wilder hair. He also spotted the man from the alley standing next to the platform, quietly keeping an eye on the proceedings and never letting his eyes stray from Marjorie.

The crowd went wild again, and Daniel turned his attention back to the platform. Marjorie had taken off her trench coat and let it fall to the floor. She was decked in a diminutive black bra and thong set, complete with a black garter belt holding up sheer black stockings and black spike heels. She was the ultimate teenager’s fantasy. And Daniel had to admit that she had the body for it. The boys in the audience seemed to share his assessment, judging by the cheers, hoots, and catcalls that erupted. Insulting epithets and racial slurs accompanied those cheers in equal measure.

The speaker, who by this point was wearing the golden medallion, did not calm things down when he moved behind Marjorie and cupped her breasts with his hands, caressing and squeezing them roughly. Marjorie closed her eyes and moaned, to everyone’s roaring approval. He trailed his hands down her body, and slid one of them down the front of her panties, cupping Marjorie’s crotch, again fairly roughly, and she responded by thrusting her pelvis forward against it. She humped his hand a few times before he pulled it out and lifted it to her face, palm out. Marjorie did not hesitate and licked her own juices off his hand. More screams of approval at this display of wantonness, punctuated by shouts of “Take it all off you fucking slut!”

The speaker then indicated to Marjorie the jar on the table, and she slowly made her way there, flashing the assembly a perfect view of her rear barely marred by the thin string running between her cheeks. She paused by the jar, put her hand in, and pulled out a small piece of paper that she presented to the speaker.

“Folks,” he said, over the noise of the crowd, “our lucky winner tonight, winner of complete and utter control over the delightful MD here, who will get his most perverted desires satisfied over and over again in the coming week, is... Georges Taylor! Georges! Where are you?”

A loud whoop arose from somewhere on the left, and a young man ran towards the platform as if he was on The Price Is Right. The speaker beckoned him up. The winner could not have been more than a freshman. He was not bad looking, but his hair needed washing, and his clothes—jeans and a tee shirt, what else?—were too baggy for his thin frame. He joined the speaker on the platform, who took his hand and raised it above his head in sign of victory.

“Folks, our winner, Georges Taylor. Claim your prize, Georges.” The speaker motioned for Marjorie, and she slowly walked towards Georges, putting an extra wiggle on every step. Poor Georges, who did strike one as being overly suave around beautiful females, stood mesmerized.

Marjorie wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her body against his, and kissed him, a long hot kiss that involved her whole body squirming against the poor boy. The crowd cheered and hooted throughout the kiss, which left Georges flushed and panting. Marjorie grinned, took one of his hands and lifted it up to her chest before pressing it against one of her breasts.

“Wow! What an amazing start to Georges’ week,” the speaker intoned, putting his hand on Georges’ shoulder. Georges still has his hand on Marjorie’s firm flesh, caressing it reverently. “Folks, before we send Georges on his way to enjoy his prize—the lucky bastard!—I have something else for you, a bonus to cap the evening. Georges, if you could step down, we’ll turn MD and her medallion over to you as soon as this is done.”

Georges, still in a daze, obediently stepped off the platform, high-fived and slapped on the back by aroused and slightly envious partygoers. Marjorie remained where she was. From the left side of the platform, two impressively large men came on carrying something bulky between them , covered with a wide blanket. “Folks,” said the speaker, “I give you a prime example of just what it is we are fighting against here at NADA. As you all know too well, we are inundated by foreigners who come to our great country to acquire the world-class education we are so famous for, siphoning off tax-payer money from deserving Americans, only to return to their country and foment anti-US sentiment, or worse stay and impose their fucked up traditions and ask for special treatment, all the while using precious resources. Nowhere is this plague so visible than on our great campus. Darnell’s student population is more than half foreign, and you’re more likely than not to hear some weird-ass language when you walk around. And don’t get me started on all those foreigners hooking up with our women. That is the scourge it is our duty to flush, folks. And here is, as I said, a prime example.”

With a flourish, the speaker pulled off the blanket from the bundle that had been put down in the center of the platform, revealing Radhu, gagged and bound naked in a chair. He looked stunned, and bruises on his face spoke of a beating. He could not move but for his eyes, which had difficulty focusing.

Daniel screamed Radhu’s name upon seeing his friend—through his scream was drowned by the booing and hissing that greeted Radhu’s unveiling—but before he could jump forward and storm the platform, a big hand landed on his shoulder, holding him in place. It was the bouncer from the door, with his “Don’t Worry Be Happy” tee shirt. Beside him stood Steve Bissonette.

“Daniel, Daniel, Daniel,” said Steve. “You are about to do something stupid. I suggest you reconsider.”

“Steve, what the fuck are you doing?”

“What am I doing? You’re funny. I’m not the one that crashed this party, bringing along a curry muncher. You, and especially your friend up there, are reaping the fruit of your carelessness.”

“What are you talking about? What are you doing to him?”

“Oh, nothing too too bad. Just giving him a little lesson about American hospitality. He’ll live. Probably.” Steve’s smile was unpleasant. “Watch, now. This is going to be fun.”

On the platform, the speaker was waiting for the screamed insults directed at Radhu to quiet down. He turned his head towards Marjorie, still standing impassively to the side, and nodded. She immediately took off her bra, letting her breasts go free, and the crowd went from booing to cheering in the space of two seconds. Then she slipped her thong down her legs and tossed it into the crowd. Wild cheering greeted that action. She was now clad only in her stockings and heels, the classic pinup with her long dark hair. And just like that, Radhu was all but forgotten.

Just when the crowd was threatening to get out of control, the cheers turning into screams of “Dance, you slut!” and “Come fuck this, you whore!", the speaker gestured for everyone to quiet down, and pulled something out of his pocket that Daniel did not recognize.

“Folks,” the speaker picked up again, “this here is a little gadget inspired by a South Africa invention called an anti-rape device. Think of it as a roach motel for dicks. Women in South Africa slide it up their pussy so that when a man tries to fuck them, it clamps down on their dick and can only be removed by surgery. Eminently practical in a country filled with crazed niggers itching to stuff their cock into anything with a hole. Well, this here is our NADA variant. We call it the Cock Shredder. Instead of clamping down on a dick, it is lined with razor blades that slice through flesh like butter. Watch.”

There was no pause as he wiped out a cucumber and pushed it through the bottom of the device. Effortlessly, the cucumber was sliced into long strips of vegetable flesh as it went through the device. The crowd gasped then cheered; Daniel felt sick. He turned, and Cindy was still next to him. He was glad to see she was not cheering.

On the platform, the speaker had turned to Radhu. “So, you fuckin’ darkie, here’s how it’s gonna go down. MD here is going to put this up her cunt. Then she’s gonna make you hard, the way only she can. And when you’re stiff and aching for release, she’s going to sit on your dick and shred it up. Then if you survive you can go back to wherever the fuck you came from and tell them all about good ol’ America.”

The gag muffled Radhu’s protests. The speaker smiled, then handed the device to Marjorie. She took it, and slowly worked it up her vagina.

“Folks,” shouted the speaker, “I give you the ultimate Vagina Dentata!”

The crowd had been stirred into a frenzy, screaming and shouting and threatening to stampede the platform. But then music started playing, and Marjorie started swaying and dancing to it, and Daniel was reminded of her stint at the Spirited Flesh.

Arousal may have been furthest from Daniel’s mind with his friend a prisoner on stage, but the crowd ate it up. Marjorie danced, cupping her breasts and squeezing them hard, running her hands down her perfect body, turning around and presenting her ass to the audience, the consummate pinup girl, the professional exotic dancer.

And then she turned her attention to Radhu. He was watching her, fear etched on his face. Marjorie approached him, and in a campy overacted way pointed to his shriveled penis, mimed a disappointed face for the audience, then smiled as if she just had an idea and after an exaggerated wink that drew a wide cheer, she proceeded to give poor Radhu a lap dance. She did it expertly, conveying in every movement of her body that she was a cock-craving ball of lust, turned on by dancing and arousing her man. She pressed Radhu’s face between her breasts, licked the side of his face, sat on his lap and shimmied and wiggled and thrust and rubbed.

Poor Radhu, so inexperienced, never had a chance. When Marjorie stood to kneel down between his legs, the audience cheered because they could see he was getting hard. Marjorie never gave Radhu’s cock a chance to go soft, and in one swift motion took him deep in her mouth. Radhu’s eyes almost popped out of his head, and despite the situation he was in, he moaned. It seemed incredible, but Marjorie had managed to make him forget where he was. His eyes closed. And Marjorie went on to give him a world-class blow job, taking him deep down her throat on every thrust, pushing her head down into his pubes, her lips wrapped past the base of his cock. Daniel could see his friend push his hips forward, fucking against Marjorie’s face, lost in his own world.

Daniel realized with a shock that this was likely Radhu’s first nontrivial sexual experience, and it was forced on him with an audience of angry haters who would have liked nothing more than take pleasure in his humiliation. The hand gripping his shoulder reminded Daniel that he could do nothing.

Marjorie finally let Radhu’s cock pop out of her mouth, and she stood, gasping for breath, her chin coated with a film of saliva. Radhu’s cock was hard and erect and glistening, waving slightly with every tiny movements of his hips. Marjorie straddled Radhu, legs on either side of his body. She paused, grabbing his cock. The crowd was going wild, smelling blood, wanting to see Radhu suffer, probably wanting to see Marjorie suffer just as much. Chants of “Fuck him! Fuck him! Fuck him!” competed with those of “Shred him! Shred him! Shred him!” Marjorie lowered herself onto Radhu’s cock. Daniel closed his eyes.

There was a terrible scream of pain.

The crowd went wild at the sound. The scream continued unabated. Daniel did not want to open his eyes, and felt tears welling up underneath his eyelids. And then he realized—it was a girl’s scream. Not Radhu’s. A girl’s. He opened his eyes. On the platform, Radhu was still sitting in his chair, looking at Marjorie who had collapsed on the ground, pain distorting her features, clutching her head. Then pandemonium broke.

The crowd went crazy, shouts and screams and sounds of broken furniture coming from everywhere. Marjorie was writhing on the ground, still screaming. Daniel saw the man from the alley rush up to go to her. The speaker was looking around in wild confusion. Daniel could no longer feel the hand of the bouncer on his shoulder, and he rushed the platform. In the general melee no one stopped him, and he reached Radhu unimpeded. There was no blood. His friend seemed unhurt, aside from the bruises on his face. Daniel did not waste time trying to understand what had happened. It took him a while to untie the knots holding his friend’s down, and Daniel kept expecting someone to knock him out and finish the job on Radhu. But the partygoers seemed more intent on property destruction and random fighting than a concerted attack on Radhu.

As Daniel pulled a shaky Radhu up from the chair, he spotted the man from the alley carrying a now limp Marjorie away. Daniel hesitated a second before grabbing the blanket and pushing Radhu ahead of him in a mad dash for the front door. They emerged in the cool night without anyone stopping them.