Perhaps he could undo it? He saw down, straddling the bench right next to her. “Well, think about it. What would you do if I pulled your head down into my lap right now and put my cock in your mouth?”
Her pale skin flushed a bit. “I’d suck you off so good you’d forget that blonde bitch ever existed.” She smiled thinly.
Hot, but doesn’t help answer anything. “All right, sit right here.” He stood up; she looked shocked (and perhaps somewhat offended) that he’d shrugged off her suggestion so lightly. He walked across the cafeteria to where a couple girls had just entered. Nobody Ashley knew. It was too far away to hear what he said, but one frowned like she was annoyed, the other just looking a bit nervous.
Then, they turned their backs to him and bent over, first one then the other. DJ delivered a half dozen smacks to each; they were audible even all the way across the room, but they seemed to be more about volume than pain, as the girls hardly reacted. People glanced at the source of the noise, then reacted for a half-second before looking away complacently. As people entered, they did a double-take at the freshman girls being spanked inside the entryway, but walked on by. Here and there someone stopped to stare or glance casually. There were no other reactions.
Meanwhile, she could see more and more people turning to look at her sitting there in her lacy blue bra with wide eyes, blushing and looking away when they saw her looking back.
Then DJ stopped and walked back over to her. The confused girls rubbed tender buttocks and proceeded to get their lunch. People quit looking at her as he sat back down.
“So, did any of that seem unusual to you?”
“That you just fucking spanked two girls in plain view of a hundred people and no one batted an eyelash? Um, yeah.”
“Unusual how?”
“What do you mean, ‘unusual how’? How is any of this NOT unusual?”
“Well, nobody else seemed to find it unusual.”
She pounded a fist on the table in frustration. “That’s what makes it so fucking unusual, asshole!”
DJ considered. She’d bet him someone would notice his exploits, so she’d been watching with that expectation; when no one did, perhaps it had jarred something loose, the same way a forced contradiction had worked on Derek and Rachael? He couldn’t be sure.
Either way, it was one more reason—beyond the two incredible reasons sitting there on her chest—to keep her close. DJ figured he may as well be honest; he couldn’t think of a lie that would explain it anyway.
“You see, I… have a power.” It felt weird to say aloud. “I can do anything I want to anyone, and they just… tolerate it.”
“What do you mean, ‘tolerate it’?” She eyed him askance.
“I mean they just let me do it. Sometimes they complain a little, sometimes they just play along, but they let me do it. It’s… well, it’s like a traffic jam. Some people turn up their music and jam, some people honk their horns and scream themselves hoarse, but everybody puts up with it, ’cause what ya gonna do.”
“But then what about that girl, Bethany? Is she a special walking traffic jam too?”
“It’s ‘Brittney.’ And no. But when I’m involved, people seem to just let the outrageous happen. Like how nobody’s worried about your hot-ass self sitting here with no shirt on. I don’t know if there’s like a… range? I dunno. It just happened to me a few weeks ago.”
Ashley processed a moment. “So… is this how you managed that thing with me and that other RA, the stuck-up one, in the lounge?”
He nodded. “Yeah. That was actually kind of the first I realized it. I… I honestly thought that was a dream when it was happening, one of those dreams where you’re in control?”
“Lucid dream, yeah.”
“Yeah. We were just doing rounds, and… you didn’t seem to mind, right?”
“What? Fuck no. But then… well, in case you haven’t noticed, I kind of get off on being seen in the act.”
He smiled. “Yeah, I sorta picked up on that. Speaking of…” DJ hooked a hand under each of Ashley’s thighs and lifted her up, depositing her back on his lap. He rested his hands on her generously ample ass.
“Hey, this wasn’t part of the bet, asshole,” she chastised teasingly.
“Well, what’re you gonna do about it?” he replied, caressing her butt in the tight jeans.
She rubbed her breasts against his chest. “Well, to hear you tell it, I have no choice but to ‘tolerate it,’ right?” She giggled.
He nestled his face into her inviting cleavage. “So you believe me?”
Ashley shrugged. “I don’t know what I believe. What you’re saying sounds insane.”
He grinned. “Well, let’s put us both to the test then.”
She playfully pulled her breasts apart, then released them and let them slap him in the head. “How so?”
Ashley didn’t know what to make of this crazy power DJ seemed to have, but she had been made a believer. On their way out of the cafeteria she’d tried to reclaim her shirt, but he’d thrown it in the trash, then dumped his food tray on top of it. So that was out. She’d followed him out of the dorm and into the parking lot, to his car, and drove all the way across town without anyone seeming to take note of her toplessness.
It was exhilarating.
Most people had their kinks, she knew, and everyone took them to different levels. Her first serious boyfriend hadn’t been able to get off unless he was aiming at her chest. Ashley had once walked in on her sister doing some role play with her girlfriend. One of her good friends in high school had this thing about having her eyeballs licked. For Ashley, it was fooling around in public.
It was a damned inconvenient one to have, to be sure. Lots of kinks were the sorts of things that could be quietly explored in the comfort and security of one’s bedroom, and if it made one party feel awkward, at least it was good and private and no one would ever have to find out. It was exciting but totally risk-free beyond those annoying little fears of rejection, and Ashley had no such fears. If a guy didn’t want what she wanted, he was the wrong guy so she curbed him and moved on.
Fear of rejection was apparently tougher for people to conquer than fear of getting arrested or caught on tape.
She’d entertained a few weirdnesses from the beefier sex, same as most girls, yet she’d always struggled to find a guy who shared her particular thrill. It was hard. In fact, to date, it had been impossible. There was no set profile; nothing guaranteed that some idiot dude-bro who’d bang anything with a cunt was going to risk doing so publicly, nor a promise that some shy geek would be so excited to be propositioned by a cute girl that he wouldn’t panic at the thought of a surreptitious handjob in a dark theater. Likewise, she wasn’t a fucking whore; she wasn’t going to hop on the internet and start looking for some random stranger advertising they wanted to fuck a girl on a park bench.
After so many guys rebuffing her on it, she’d gotten sensitive about it. She’d managed to talk that idiot jock Charlie into fucking her in the lounge, and that had taken so many blowjobs leading up to it that she’d figured—correctly—that no guy would be willing to give up that steady stream, even if it meant potentially getting cited. She’d practically unhinged her jaw enticing him into it. Afterwards he wouldn’t do it again, though she suspected being kicked out pre-orgasm and having his girlfriend fingered by his RA on camera hadn’t helped.
She’d been thinking a lot about that on the drive this afternoon. Had she let him do it because of this so-called power of his? She’d never liked him, ever since that incident when he wrote her up last year. She’d enjoyed giving him shit since then, reminding him girls with great tits out-ranked power-tripping RAs by a wide margin. But she had wanted to get off in front of an audience, too. So which was it, the power, or her own kink?