Copyright © 2001, Jaz1701. ALL Rights Reserved
This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit or on another website without the written permission of the author.
I did nothing wrong. What I did was not illegal, and I won't go to jail. Was it ethical? Moral, religiously, politically correct... probably not. But it wasn't really illegal. Obviously I don't want my name associated with the events though. Have you ever had a secret? Have you ever done something so deliciously, saucy, so utterly wicked that it makes you giggle just a bit? To plan it, to execute it, to get away with it--and then be unable to tell anyone... it's maddening. It is not fair. God bless the Internet. I'm going to tell you what I did, what I will continue to do.
I'm writing this story under my pen name "Jaz". It's not the first one, far from it. I've posted 27 nasty fics before this. The only difference is this one is really true. I've been fascinated by rape, and to a lesser extent incest since I was a teenager. It was a dark, dirty secret that I kept hidden from all who know me. The idea of forcing, tricking, humiliating a tasty, little cuntwich, breaking her, bending her to my will... I don't have the words to express how much I wanted to do that in real life. It's been my fantasy for as long as I can remember, but I never have crossed that line. You see, I am a coward. I was simply too afraid to act on my desires. Oh I'd dream about it, write about even. But I am an intelligent man. I know myself. It was a simple equation, If I rape a girl/woman once I will enjoy it. If I enjoy it I will do it again and again with other women. If I do it enough times THEN the law of averages demands I will be caught. THEN I will lose my job. Then I will go to jail. As a Rapist in Jail, I will be raped myself. Being a gutless bastard, I never took the chance, never had the courage to take the risk. I am 32 years old and I thought rape would forever be just beyond my grasp. Then god (um ok maybe it was someone else) smiled upon me, and showed me how to get what I wanted. Better still it is completely legal, I won't go to jail, ergo I won't be raped myself. Here's how it happened.
"Bring!!!!! Professor Jaz! Wait up I need to talk to you."
I could not quite place the face of the young lady calling my name. She was very pretty. She looked like a friendly, intelligent, kid. Not quite innocent, but certainly no slut. She was sexy, but did not seem to know it. In a few years she'd grow into herself. Perfect, the kind of girl I would love to humiliate, dreamed of raping. The ass on her swayed seductively. Her sweet tits were made to be sucked. Her mouth looked like it would just barely fit around my dick, she might gag a little but she was a good girl, I knew she'd swallow.
"Yes, what can I do to you, Ms..."
"Johnson, Susan Johnson. I'm in your Intro to Creative Writing class this semester. I need some help passing it... I have missed a few classes, " she mumbled as her voice trailed off to nothing.
Oh god I remembered her now. I had barely seen the girl in months. As a tenured professor in a major eastern university I have seen it before. It always made me mad. Students take a puff class like Creative Writing, so they can coast along to an easy B, while devoting the extra time and energy to other classes, or partying. I've seen it, but rarely to this degree. There was less than a month to go in the semester. That meant a term paper, and the final exam. It did represent a combined 60% of the grade.
Theoretically there was a chance...
"Ms. Johnson I don't see how I can help you. It is too late. I'd have to check my records but you are failing quite severely. You have not been attending class other than to take the tests, and have missed several quizzes. What precisely do you expect me to do?"
We had been walking the whole time and finally reached my office. I sat down and scowled at her from across my desk.
"Please Professor Jaz, I need your help. I don't know what to do. I failed Chem. class already, My parents won't continue to pay if my grades drop below a B-. I can't fail Creative Writing. I'll do anything. Special projects, extra assignments. Just help me... pleasse," she said as she whined, and begged, and dripped her tears on my floor. I remember getting very hot, and itchy as the plan came to me. She'd do anything?!! I could have this girl against her will but with her consent! I had to be careful, I did not want to expose myself, or scare her off.
"Ms. Johnson, stop crying. I hate to see a pretty young woman in tears(Sigh). I'll try to help you, but I need to give it some thought. You will have to work around my schedule. Here is my address. Meet me at my apt at 10pm."
"Oh thank you Professor Jaz, I can't believe this, thank you," she squealed as she gave me an impulsive hug.
The tips of her nipples mashed into me, and I wondered what they tasted like. Were her tits salty, or sweet? Were they fat round ones, or perky cone shaped tits that sat high and proud on her chest? I would find out soon.
I had work to do. I spent the rest of the afternoon on the Internet, and in the law library. I needed to know what the Code was in my state. I checked, Susan was 19 years old, so I was safe from statutory rape charges. Next I looked up blackmail. It was quite confusing. In essence it is a puzzle, wrapped in mystery, surrounded by an enigma. No two definitions completely agree.
In my state here is the legal definition:
"BLACKMAIL - A criminal act of extortion, malicious threatening to do injury to another to compel him to do an act against his will. Usually involves the threat to release information, often true, about the person that will defame his reputation or bring criminal actions against him. The criminality lies not in the release of the information - at least if true - but in the extortionate aspects of the threat to do so."
What I planned would be very different than this. I would not be malicious. Susan would get something she wanted out of our arrangement. It was straight Quid Pro Quo. I got what I wanted, she got what she needed. I really would help her. I certainly had no desire to "release information" about what we did together. I wanted it kept secret as much as she would.
The other legal concept I investigated was coercion.
Here is an excerpt from what I found on Coercion law: "... but only because of force or coercion in the form of intimidation and threats of bodily harm to himself or his family... intimidation or coercion must be present and immediate, and must be of such a nature that it induces a reasonable and well-founded fear of death or serious bodily injury to one's self or someone else; and there must be no reasonable opportunity to escape the coercion..."
I was not going to threaten her with bodily harm, she would have every opportunity to leave. No statutory, no blackmail, no coercion, no rape, no crime, no jail. Bottom line, Susan would make the decision--it would be her choice, every step of the way. If she said no, she was free. Free to leave, free to fail, free to accept responsibility for what she had done, free to flip burgers, or type in an office. She was free to sell her body on the street or worse sell it to her husband. No, if I read her right that was not the freedom Susan wanted. She would give herself to me, allow me to have her sweet tender young body. She just would not like it, heh. Tough shit. No it was not rape, it was BETTER.
She arrived at 10pm on the dot.
"Ding Dong Susan come in, have a seat."
"Thanks Professor Jaz, I love your house."
"When we are not at school how about I call you Susan, and you call me Jaz. Now then here is Roger Berkeley's first dissertation on creative thought. Why don't you read through Chapter his essay on Dissociative thought and we'll get started."
I had intentionally picked an advanced, and confusing author for Susan to review. Roger Berkley was a pompous ass who liked the sound of his own voice. His conflicting ramblings would be impossible for Susan to decipher.
It took her an hour to realize it. When she did, when she was desperate she started to cry.
"Susan, what's wrong how can I help... come here tell Jaz all about it."
More than anything else the teenager wanted comfort. She wanted someone to hold her and tell her everything would be ok. She came to me as I held open my arms and held her in a fatherly embrace. I walked her to the couch and pulled her down next to me, still keeping one arm around her shoulders as I made gentle shushing sounds and stroked her hair.
"What am I going to do? I can't understand anything he is saying! I'm so stupid. My life is over, I'm going to flunk, and get kicked out of here. Oh god Jaz what am I going to do?!"
"Sigh... you are in a tough spot Susan. You have put yourself in a difficult position. I'm sympathetic to a point. I think we have to give up on you passing this course legitimately. It's just too late."
"Professor... what do you mean. Is there a way you would let me pass this course another way? I'll do anything... uh, well almost anything..." her voice trailed off.
"I said I was sympathetic, there is a reason for it. When I went for my doctorate. I almost failed. I would have but my Professor allowed me to pass. She needed a service done, and I needed a grade. We worked out a fair trade. Nobody got hurt and we were both happy with the results."
.... There is more of this story ...