Vixen's elderly World History teacher was Professor Ivan G. Wainmoor who had a Ph.D. from a Midwestern college that no longer existed and was the long-time head of the history department as well as a respected member of the faculty council. A widower, he had been at Seaside for more than twenty years and could do almost all of his lectures from memory. He gave the same exams year after year in his required courses, and any student who did not acquire a copy early on wasn't really paying attention to campus life.
Sometimes fraternity boys and team members came to the exams with their blue books already filled out. Among the student body, he was a kind of bald-headed joke, but to his small coterie of friends he was a very useful source of extremely stimulating pornography at reasonable prices.
Because of his position in the faculty hierarchy, Professor Wainmoor usually had two or three undergraduate students grading papers and doing research and scut-work for him and often supervised graduate-student teaching interns on fellowships. He had two of them this year.
With the help of his diligent researchers, the rotund professor churned out a book on Roman or Ancient Greek history every five or six years, his most recent and thoroughly redundant work was on the building and uses of Hadrian's Wall. He had made a trip there with two girls from Wellesley the previous summer. Photos he secretly made of their lesbian lovemaking were among his most profitable Usenet favorites.
Vixen barely tolerated his monotone lectures but managed to stay awake and did take enough notes to breeze through his mid-term essay test and was well prepared for the final for which Dave had provided a copy from the previous year.
She was surprised when she was summoned to his office near the end of the first semester. After her Thursday art class and a quick tumble with Jim Victor on her unmade bed, a lesson in doggy-style pleasure, she reported and sat where he indicated, her body still glowing from sexual release, and her pussy still seething from Jim's vigorous and sustained efforts.
"Vixen, most interesting name. Don't believe we've ever had another," he said, picking up a manila folder and adjusting his half-moon glasses. "My old friend in the speech department told me about you." He made a sour face at her.
Vixen's belly tensed, and her heart rate increased.
He looked up and licked his liverish lips. "My, my, but you have been busy, you and that little Texan, the swimmer. Twenty-three different overnight male visitors in ten weeks. That must be some kind of record. The RA tells me that you are seldom sleeping alone these days and often enjoying a mid-day romp, as you just did, so I'm told. Hope that was fun, all that ass fucking." He paused, smiled and looked up, smacking his lips and raising his eyebrows. "That so?"
Vixen took a deep breath. "I don't think that's any of your business."
"Quite." He turned to another sheet of paper. "Ah yes," he said. "Here it is. You are 17 not 19, eh? You never actually finished high school, did you?" He did not wait for an answer. "You made many, many hard-core, pornographic films, no, videos, while you were sixteen or so, dozens of them - all illegal you know. You do know that, don't you?"
Vixen swallowed and nodded. Her teeth ached, and she relaxed her jaws and took a deep breath.
"Made them for your father, most of them, and one or two others, evidently on loan. I have the titles, but I have not counted them all. I've seen several. Active little slut aren't you?"
He paused and cleared his throat, squinting at her. "You are a clever performer, a realistic screamer with a sturdy body and unbelievable jugs. Silicone are they?" He chuckled and laid the papers aside. "I'd say those involved in production could get ten years for each film. And the fines, oh my, hundreds of thousands. It is a crime, you know? Very serious." He looked at her and chuckled again. "They jail people who just look at it." He made a sound deep in his throat and sucked his teeth. "And you have a forged driver's license, don't you? That's also a crime I believe."
Vixen felt suddenly cold. She gnawed her lip and blinked. Her new life was melting, heading for the sewer, right down the drain. Her stomach churned.
The smiling professor put down his folder and said, "Take off your sweater, you little bitch. I want to see those tits I've been admiring since September." He looked very serious. "They need some twisting I suspect."
Vixen stood and turned toward the door.
"Do you really want your father to go to jail for the rest of his life? Do you want to forfeit that fat bank account and your nice, red car? Live as a streetwalker in Atlantic City?"
She sat back down and stripped off her sweater and dropped it on the floor. Her nipples were hard and pointed upward, quivering. She was both angry and frightened. She tossed back her curly hair and waited, gritting her teeth while the professor looked up her and down, licked his lips and smiled.
Except for the sports bra she wore during the PE classes, Vixen seldom donned a bra and enjoyed the feel of her bare nipples joggling against the cloth of her shirt or sweater. So did most of the boys on campus.
"Better," he said and pushed a button on his desk. "You have some admirable freckles there, and I do like your big nipples. I am going to give you a choice, a real choice, understand. I do not want to force you to do anything; you must agree. Eh?" He snorted and then showed her his teeth, an odd sort of smile. "I am going to sign you up as one of my student assistants next semester, Vixen, minimum wage, two or three hours a day, at least two days a week. OK?"
"You will take World History 2, of course, and you will get another A, but your main job will be here, with me and my grad students. Understand? And you will be cooperative won't you? We have some exciting things planned."
Vixen nodded and a tall young man and a slight female entered and stood behind the professor's chair.
"Well well, that's settled," said Wainmoor, "we will write some scripts, and you can make some more videos with us, can't you? Alan here had a nine incher I believe, arches up like a serpent." He smiled and the tall young man behind him studied the bare-chested girl avidly, smiling and feeling his huge cock swell.
Wainmoor went on, "Just as you did for your father, same kind of thing, lots of sloppy action, plenty of cum. Come girl, let's have a sample of your talents, eh?" He chuckled. "Something to seal the deal."
"What's the alternative?" she asked, thoroughly frightened and very angry.
"I give this information to the provost, and you are thrown out of school, expelled. You might even find it hard to get into another school."
"That isn't fair," she said, acid in her throat...
He smiled. "No one said it was. But you do have a choice."
.... There is more of this story ...