Another school day has come and gone. It’s time to go home.
Ms. Allison Webb Sinclaire. Chancellor of Brakebills. Walks into Kirstjen’s classroom, with non-Lovecraftian Auntie in tow. Idlily, Kirstjen wonders, “if Auntie is the new campus sex counselor?”
“Auntie, who you’re very familiar with. She’s taking over as proprietress of Friday 13th. This is your formal faculty introduction to her.”
“Isn’t this akin to the fox taking over the henhouse?” Kirstjen chuckles.
Chancellor Sinclaire ignores the jab and walks out, leaving the two girls alone. You can literally cut the sexual tension with a knife.
“Long time, no see,” Auntie delivers with an inhumanly-wide smile, those maniac eyes of hers briefly glowing.
“Yes, it has been.”
“I have no use for pretty girls.”
“Get used to it.”
“Such a waste.”
“My husband would disagree.”
“Be seeing you.”
Auntie walks out. And, that’s that. Or. So, it would seem.
Instead of going home on the bus, Kirstjen walks over to Friday 13th. The shop is closed, its lights are off, but the front door is unlocked. Kirstjen enters. The proprietress’ residence is upstairs. Kirstjen goes downstairs into the cellar where a Lovecraftian Auntie is expectedly waiting.
The cellar is much different than it was when Kirstjen last visited during the tenure of the previous proprietress. Now, it looks just like those dungeon “presentations” where the Crueler dominated.
“I had no doubt that you would come.”
Kirstjen, saying absolutely nothing, walks stiffly over to the harlot. The girl’s eyes are empty.
“Show me.”
Kirstjen hikes up her skirt. She’s now strapping butch.
“Much better.”
Kirstjen lowers her skirt. Erection, followed by ejaculation into her rubber knickers.
Auntie licks her lips in anticipation.
“Now, the rest.”
Kirstjen. Thick-readers. Plaintive makeup. Fifty-something. Well-used. Yellow blonde jeannie liberally streaked with grey and white. Cougar, MILF, well-past-her-prime-bimbo.
That wretched plaintive makeup applied heavily to face, neck, and cleavage. No longer pretty. Rendered ugly and plain, looking much older and well-used as well. Thirty-something has given way to fifty-something. Looks that no longer upstage Auntie’s, which is an Auntie requirement.
“This is how you will come down here to me, from henceforth,” Auntie viciously bitch-slaps the girl several times for good measure!!!
In response to this naked brutality, Kirstjen experiences “rolling” orgasms. Her knickers are hard pressed, excuse the pun, to keep up with keeping her clean.
“You used to be pretty, and you MUST suffer for that crime!!!” Auntie screams at the top of her lungs. She has whipped up herself into a literal frenzy. Seething with loathing and disdain for how the girl used to look.
Then. All of a sudden. After raging non-stop. Auntie stops foaming at the mouth with unbridled rage. Her eyes glow, conveying “orders” to Kirstjen.
Kirstjen obeys Auntie’s commands, and goes about her assigned tasks for the evening. In the morning, before her classes start, Kirstjen will make it official and register at the campus employment office as Auntie’s new parttime after-regular-hours “volunteer” assistant at the pawn shop. Kirstjen will not be Auntie’s only assistant; there will be a rotation of fulltime ones, working staggered hours. Kirstjen will have a two-hour shift, on an “as needed” basis.
As a reward. After having finished her assigned evening tasks. Lovecraftian Auntie will drink Kirstjen voraciously, resulting in a Kirstjen who’s reduced to two-legged prune danish.
Kirstjen will, of course, revert to her hard pretty thirty-something default, before she leaves the shop for her bus ride home.
Kirstjen. Degradation and humiliation. In total subjugation to her Lovecraftian Auntie. Her newest primary OCD.
Auntie. Postscript. It is obvious that the Crueler is now in total subjugation to its Lovecraftian Auntie. Kirstjen. Postscript. It’s equally obvious that more is afoot, in the case of Kirstjen, than her total subjugation to her Lovecraftian Auntie. Raising the specter of “when is close, too close”? A hard stern dowdy Kirstjen, in the pipeline? Pure unadulterated Alice Quinn, for Kirstjen, sooner than later? Alice Quinn, schoolmarm as dominatrix, that BDSM stalwart? In a month’s time, per their unspoken agreement, all of these questions will be answered by the “compromise”.