Tolerance
Chapter Five
By the time DJ left the police station, his conscience was clear.
Not that he’d been arrested, mind you—far from it. He’d gone in and asked—well, demanded—to speak to a detective, and once he’d been put in touch with one, he’d explained everything he’d done to Dr. Missy, in torrid detail.
“So, did I commit any crimes?”
The detective considered. “Certainly several counts of public indecency, though that could be argued it was instructional—a professor inviting a student on stage to do it and all—which would make it her crime, not yours.”
“So I didn’t rape her?”
The older man shook his head. “No, son, it sure doesn’t sound like any rape I ever heard tell of. Both adults, both consented to the act before and during. Ain’t a crime to not give a lady a good time—just bad manners. Quicker though, eh?” He nudged DJ with gentle bro-ish camaraderie.
And that was good enough for him. After all, everyone had consented to everything he’d done. Kelsey had seemed to resist a bit more, but he wondered if her trying to ditch him in the parking lot had just been part of the foreplay—she’d certainly been wet and ready by the time he got her pants off.
That evening, he made a To-Do list, resisting the urge, for now, to include people’s names, and went to bed early to rest from his wild romp with his professor and to prepare for the big day ahead. First on the list was transportation. He really did like walking around campus, but the weather didn’t always cooperate, and it would be good for getting around town, save his step-mom from having to pick him up for fall break on Friday.
DJ had done a little research, and got himself a nice sensible hybrid—no need for anything flashy, and he liked to be eco-minded when he could afford to be. He had the owner of the dealership transfer the deed to his name and told the woman to take care of the payments herself. After stopping by the BMV (even cutting to the front of the line, it was slow going there) to take care of all the legalese, since he didn’t know if cops would pull him over for plates or the like but he didn’t feel like dealing with the hassle, he ordered a personalized license plate reading “TOLR8ME.” He smiled as he screwed it into place.
Next, he stopped by the duty office and explained to the residence manager that he’d no long be doing the various parts of his job he didn’t feel like doing—mailroom duty, meetings and so on—and switched around the duty schedule to leave him free all weekends, and all his weekday shifts he was partnered with either Emily or Abby. Abby was one of those girls who never got tired of looking for excuses to bring her politics to bear at every possible opening, but she was still pretty hot and word had it that she was a tigress in bed. (This last came from complaints from her next-door neighbors, who had no recourse but to put up with their noisy RA’s sexcapades.)
While breaking from his checklist for lunch, DJ was eating alone as usual, reflecting how strange it was to be so influential and yet still not be popular. Then, suddenly, he wasn’t alone. Ashley Vandoren sat down across from him, as casually as if she did this every day. He stared, dumb-founded; their last interaction had gone well, but hardly seemed to qualify him as a friend. He’d never had a friend as hot as Ashley, and certainly not one with such amazing tits.
“Um, hi Ashley.” His voice almost broke. For all his recent luck with the ladies, his inner geek still ruled his instincts in social interactions.
“Hey, Deej. You don’t mind if I sit here, do you.” She didn’t even bother to put it as a question. Of course no guy would mind if she sat with them. He managed a monosyllabic response as if it had been one, though.
“So I hear you’ve been busy.” She took a bite of her burrito nonchalantly.
He had a strange feeling like he was on the cusp of an interrogation. “I guess… what’d you hear, exactly?”
“Well, for starters I heard you made Dr. Restrepo give you a blowjob during lecture and then fucked her brains out behind the podium after.” She grinned.
“What? Who’d you hear that from?” Up until now, it hadn’t struck him like his misadventures had occasioned gossip.
“A friend of mine’s in that class. She only brought it up because she knows I used to have that big grudge against you. So is it true?”
DJ nodded slowly, nervous about this line of questioning. “More or less. The podium sort of fell out of the way during the, um, sex part.”
“Don’t short yourself—the question was ‘did you fuck her,’ and you did, no ‘more or less’ bullshit about it. Surprised you didn’t parade her around campus like you did that bitch Emily after our little thing the other night.” She smiled teasingly.
“Well, I did, um, sort of take her out, after, and, uh, talked her into a tattoo. To commemorate it.” Why was this so hard to talk about?
“Inked her, huh. What’d she get? ‘I heart blowing my students’ or something?”
The first time he answered, he mumbled so badly that she made him repeat it. “It said ‘Bitch From Hell.’ On her lower back.” He explained the bit about the dress code then, too.
Ashley laughed so hard she almost spit out a gob of burrito. “That’s harsh. Though from what I hear about her class, fairly spot-on. Always trying to fit in with her students like she’s one of us. I fucking hate profs like that—just grow the fuck up and move on already. Well, nothing to help a bitch fit in with college girls better than dressing and acting like a ho.”
DJ just nodded, and an awkward silence ensued for a while until Ashley broke it. “So you get off on the public stuff, do you? Enjoy an audience and all that?”
He considered. “Well, not specifically. I, uh, I guess I just, well, seized the opportunity. And the opportunity happened to be in public.”
“Sure. Just like it was with me and Emily the other night, huh?”
He blushed. “Hey, in my defense, you and Charlie were already having sex in the lounge before we showed up.”
Ashley just grinned slyly for a long moment and then made a show of slowly sucking a little gob of cheese off of her finger. She leaned across the table and murmured in a dusky voice, “that’s because I get off on the public stuff.”
DJ’s brain was mired somewhere between the sight of Ashley sucking on her finger, her sensual murmuring, and the memory of seeing her naked and fingering her to orgasm not even a week ago. It couldn’t pull its feet out of the muck enough to manage an intelligent response. “If you’re worried about Charlie,” she went on in his stupor, “don’t. It was just a fling, and I ended it over the weekend.”
“Oh,” DJ monotoned. “Well that’s good. Not for Charlie, I guess.”
She smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment, DJ.”
Then, just as wild imagination had him convinced that Ashley was about to lay down on the table strip her clothes off and fuck him, she instead stood up and grabbed her tray. “Well, think about it, OK asshole?” It was what she’d called him every time she’d interacted with him until today, but her tone was all affectionate. Too stunned to react, he watched her saunter away, certain the extra wiggle in her hips was for his benefit.
He would most definitely be thinking about it.
It was only with the most herculean of efforts that he made it back to his dorm room without grabbing the next hot girl he saw and fucking her on the spot. He had a checklist, after all; much to do and less time to do it in. Next up was trying to secure a line of credit—he’d at first reasoned he wouldn’t need one, since no one seemed to be of a mind to bust him for shoplifting, but shopping online would require a credit card, and likewise if he wanted to let someone else benefit from his gift or go out and run errands for him. It took a lengthy conversation, talking his way through three layers of bureaucracy, but it finally ended in the acquisition of a credit card with no spending limit. Their system wouldn’t let them make one that wouldn’t require payments (for obvious reasons), but he made sure the regional manager noted on the account that no one would cancel his card for failure to pay, as he surely had no such intentions.
The card was in the mail, but they’d made sure the number was available for immediate use; as such, he set about fulfilling a few other whims. By the time the evening rolled around, he’d racked up charges of a little over $10,000. (Shipping everything overnight was pretty crazy expensive, after all.) After grabbing a quick dinner (this time, in genuine solitude), he went back to his floor and called a floor meeting. DJ ushered each student in there; unlike last week’s failed floor program on his birthday, nobody tried to weasel out of this one, or sneak away at the last minute. Soon, the lounge was jam-packed with almost every one of his four dozen plus residents. Although the floor was co-ed, men and women lived on opposite ends, and even here, they had self-segregated by gender.
“All righty everybody—just wanted to review a few new policies I’m going to be putting into place,” he announced. “First off, there are going to be no more judicial sanctions—no write-ups, no j-board hearings, none of that.” He allowed a moment for them to hoot and holler their excitement before continuing.
“Instead, there’s now a system administered ad hoc by me. That means if you do something I don’t like, I’m going to handle it how I feel like handling it.” Someone asked for him to clarify. “OK, say I find people having a big loud party one night, and it’s disruptive or dangerous or just bugs me. I might stop in and just fine everyone there $50 apiece.”
“What happens to that money?” a girl asked in the back.
“I keep it.” There was some grumbling, but no one seemed to want to argue. “Or say someone’s blasting their music too loud—looking at you, Dylan. I’ll come in and chuck your speakers out the window. Or a girl makes a big mess in the bathroom—I’ll come down to her room and administer a spanking.”
The girls frowned; the guys were a mixed lot. One girl, a heavyset freshman named Alyssa, spoke up with a raised hand. “Wait, so that means if you don’t like something I do, you’re going to… spank me?”
“Not you, Alyssa—that’s something I’ll save for girls with nice asses. You, I might just make clean it up and then issue a fine. Or whatever I feel like. Look, my point is this folks—there are still rules around here, and I’m still enforcing them. The important things to remember are: DBAA—that’s ‘don’t be an asshole’—and the punishment will be whatever I feel like. Any other questions?”
When no one spoke up, he went on to his next point. “All righty. For the guys, that’s it—head on out. Ladies, stick around—I got a little more that pertains only to you.” The guys shuffled out of the lounge, already talking about whether or not this new system would be to their benefit. He was glad that many sounded optimistic. Once they left, he continued.
“All righty. From now on, the girl’s bathroom is going to be a limited co-ed bathroom.” The girls immediately began to shout over one another to complain, and he raised a hand to silence them. “Limited, I said. That means it’s only going to be me. And no, Terri, that means your boyfriend still isn’t allowed in there. The other guys on the floor, and any guys visiting, are still down in the men’s room. I’ll probably do my business down there, but I plan on using the girls’ room to shower, and I’d like some idea of when it’ll be available. So what I need from each of you is to fill this out,” he began distributing a sheet with a grid on it, “with your name and the times you usually shower on it.”
It was Alyssa who spoke up again. “Um, why do you need this? If the showers are full, you can just wait in line.”
DJ laughed. “Oh, no—this isn’t to make sure it’s unoccupied. This is to make sure it’s occupied by the right girl, so I have a shower buddy to keep me company. Now come on, let’s go, fill those puppies out.”
There were some sour looks, but as DJ circled around the room prompting them, they all began to fill it in. “Good, good. Don’t forget your names there; that’s the whole point, after all. Fill in the whole thing. That’s what she said, right?” Nobody laughed. Whatever.
As the young co-eds began to hand in the completed forms, DJ directed them to Alyssa. “Since she’s so interested in the system, I’m going to have her compose the master schedule for me—have it to me tonight, OK?”
“I have homework actually,” she said with an annoyed tone.
“Refusal to cooperate, that’s a $20 fine,” he said.
“All right, geez,” she grumbled, accepting the stack with an irritated look.
“Good. And last but not least before I let you all out of here, let me just remind you all—this is college, ladies. It’s an environment in which decisions come at you faster than you can anticipate them sometimes. Talking about sex here. I know many of you are sexually active, and that’s fine—that’s great, even. Good for you.
“But from here on out, I’m going to ask that all of you use birth control. If you’re not on the pill currently, get your ass down to the health center and get on it. If you are, great—but stock up on condoms, because pregnancy’s not the only risk out there.”
A young Asian girl spoke up shyly. “Excuse me, DJ, but why are you so concerned about this? Like, I’m not on the pill, but I’m not sexually active and I’m not some drunk bimbo who’s going to have sex with some random guy. Like, how will you even know?”
“I’m glad you asked, Miko,” he replied. “I’m going to be popping by your rooms on occasion—at random, as the mood strikes me—for surprise inspections of this policy.”
“Surprise inspections? What does that mean?” asked Jillian, a curvy little sophomore with just the right amount of baby fat left on her.
DJ smiled. “I’m glad you asked, Jillian. Come on up here.” With a little hesitation, she walked over to him at the center of the circle. “Well, say one night I’m walking around the floor, and I see Jillian here—sexy little thing, isn’t she? Strip for me now, would you?”
“Strip for you?” she repeated dumbly. “I don’t want to.” Still, her hands grabbed the hem of her shirt nervously in anticipation of complying. She didn’t want to be rude to DJ, after all.
DJ smiled. “Excellent—this is a good time to illustrate what I meant earlier tonight.” He had one of the seated girls stand up, then took her spot. With a hand on Jillian’s wrist he pulled her down onto his lap and proceeded to give it a nice hard smack. Her butt jiggled enticingly.
“Now see, I told Jillian what she needed to do, and rather than get with the program, she decided to drag her feet. So now her punishment is that the whole floor sees her spanked over my knee like a petulant child.” He delivered three more smacks, each a couple seconds apart.
Jillian whimpered. “How many am I going to get?”
“As many as you need, Jillian. The punishment is for not stripping when you were told to, and it stops when you do as you were told.”
“Oh! You can stop then, I’m ready!” She hastily kicked off her shorts and her shirt, then her bra and panties when her RA’s look made it clear that wasn’t enough.
“Good girl. So you asked about random inspections. Are you on the pill now, Jillian?” She nodded, bright crimson from all the eyes on her (even though most of the girls were looking away). “Good. So now if I want to test that, how might I go about it?”
Several girls offered suggestions. “Ask to see her prescription.” “Search her purse for pills.” “Watch her swallow one.”
But it was Alyssa who got it right first. “You could have sex with her, then wait to see if she gets pregnant.”
“Bingo!” DJ called out. “So right now, I’d like to do a random inspection on Jillian here. Jillian?”
She moved to stand in front of him. “Oh, I get it. Or wait, do you want me to… right now…?”
“Up to you. I think you already understand the consequences for poor citizenship.”
Jillian nodded; her butt still bore little red hand-prints from the smacks a couple minutes before. “Yeah. So, let’s…” And she sat down staddling his lap, reaching down to guide his cock into her pussy. She moaned a little in spite of herself, then started to rock her hips. It was divine.
DJ thought back to when he’d first seen Jillian, on move-in day. He remembered seeing her father and brother carry in her huge TV, a plush love seat, what had to be thousands of dollars worth of clothes, and thinking—in a detached sort of way—how this rich, beautiful girl would be out of his reach and out of the reach of every guy he knew. Now, here she was, guided onto his cock with all the effort it took to direct the actions of a semi-trained dog, doing all the work of fucking him until he came, just to prove that he could fuck her without risk of messy consequences.
“Hey, didn’t you say we should use condoms?” someone asked. He couldn’t see who, since he had his face buried in Jillian’s boobs, but he suspected it was Alyssa again.
He raised his voice to be heard through the pounds of titties concealing his mouth. “That’s for when you fuck other guys, not me. Good question. Any others? ‘Cause if not, Jillian and I would like the lounge to ourselves, right?”
“Right,” Jillian echoed, whimpering a little as his tongue circled a nipple.
The girls cleared out then, Alyssa immediately setting to work on making the girls’ shower schedule for him. Jillian continued fucking him, mechanically moving her hips. “Jillian, this is sex, not ping-pong. Don’t just find a rhythm and stick to it—make it an art. Be spontaneous, for God’s sake.”
A hard smack on the ass was sufficient to motivate her into mixing it up a little, wriggling her hips in slow circles, bouncing vertically, rocking front to back. “That’s it, babe, but don’t forget to use your mouth, too.”
Jillian pondered a moment, then leaned down to kiss him. To her credit, her lips felt passionate, eager for the act, regardless of whether she was or not. DJ enjoyed it a moment, then pulled back and shook his head. “No no—that was good, but I meant to make some noise. Get excited!” He grabbed a nipple with each hand and twisted it; Jillian cried out in a little pain and a lot of ecstasy, and thereafter panted and moaned loudly.
“That’s all your mouth does—breathe and grunt? Come on, Jillian! Get into it!”
Jillian halted her moaning, then transitioned into what, from her hesitant tone, was clearly the first instance of dirty talk she’d ever engaged in. “Oh yeah, baby! Fuck my little, um, pussy! Just drill me, baby, drill me hard!” It was almost too funny to be sexy. Almost. “Fuck my dirty little c-cunt,” she stuttered over the word, and he wondered if she’d ever used it before. “Fucking cum in me, cum in my wet cunt, prove I’m a good girl, a good girl who does what she’s told!”
Jillian kept it up, but didn’t have to for much longer before his cock sprayed its bounty up into her. He kept at it just long enough to get her off, too, and while he doubted she’d enjoyed it as much as he had, her orgasm was unfeigned and seemed to reduce her to a pile of slut-meat for a minute, at least. Once he was done, she slumped forward until another few smacks on the behind got her off of him. “We’re fucking, not courting. That’s it, go clean yourself up. I’ll see you around.” DJ tossed her her clothes as she nearly left the lounge without them.
As the door was shutting he could hear her roommate, who’d clearly been waiting for her, asking how it was. “It was pretty awesome—and I’m sure I’ll pass inspection.” The two giggled hysterically as they walked off down the hallway.
He spent the rest of the night in his room, day-dreaming about what all else was in his reach now. Abby was on duty that night; he stopped her as she walked by and stripped her naked long enough to do an inspection before sending her on her way. Not bad; like he’d thought, not as well-built as Emily, but still pretty damn hot. Later, after Alyssa dropped off the schedule, he got out his highlighter to suggest a few rendezvous. One of them was tonight; Stacey evidently showered at night, and he’d always liked the perfect little ass on the varsity track runner’s body. It looked just as amazing naked as he’d thought, and felt even better when he was washing and soaping it for her. She was a lesbian, she said, and he believed her, so rather than fuck her he just got down and licked her until she came right there in the shower. It made for a nice change of pace. Felt generous. Tired and happy, he popped into Janelle’s room before bed and had her strip down to nothing but her panties and join him in bed, just so he’d have someone to grope if he felt like it during the night. (And he did feel like it, though a little less than he’d thought.)
Janelle was already out and in class by the time he woke up the next day, and as he plotted how he’d spent it, he considered how only days ago, he’d been a different man—a man with all the same power, but who’d been too much of a wimp to use it. Since then, he’d remade himself, and he stepped out into the crisp fall air that morning with vigor and purpose.
And he could barely hear the tiny voice in his head begging him to reconsider.