Character Creation
Chapter Seven – Sympathy

      Most role-playing games occur throughout the low and mid levels. Sometimes, spellcasters advance far enough to have access to some of the more significant powers of the game – teleporting across (and between!) worlds, summoning mighty beasts, even raising the dead. Yet it is the rare game that reaches the highest levels of power, where any spell, any item, is potentially within reach.
      In a world in which even the least gifted of enchanters can manage a simple charm person, making anyone perceive them as friend, and not halfway through the game can muster a dominate person to crush the free will of their fellows altogether. What, then, awaits the aspiring mind-bender at the very pinnacles? Dominate monster is there, of course, though in a world without dragons and devils and other such impressive foes, this is less braggable.
      There is, however, the sympathy spell – often over-looked for its banal name, for most beings who are nearing readiness to contend with archdemons is concerned with the goodwill of their lessers? And an hour-long ritual to cast – who has that kind of time? Yet, in the right world, under the right circumstances…
      
      
      
      It wasn’t easy being a new teacher, but James Stringer was committed. Sure, the pay was so lousy he was renting an unfinished basement for an apartment, and yeah, he hadn’t had a free evening or weekend in a month with all the grading and planning, and all right, maybe he occasionally had to swallow his pride and deal with being smarted off to by a pack of teenagers who he couldn’t seem to motivate to do even half of their homework…
      But he was going to make a difference. 
      It wasn’t as difficult for all first-year teachers, of course. There were three of them, all fresh out of college, hired on this year at JFK Senior High School, Julianne DeVeaux in family and consumer sciences, Kurt Donovan in P.E., and himself in English. They met up a few times early in the year, but James just had too many papers to grade, and soon fell off their radar. Julianne and Kurt were both young and hot, and soon had not only become favorites with their students, but with one another. Their relationship was a hot topic of conversation among staff and students alike.
      James, meanwhile, was focused on that difference he intended to make. Besides, not like he would have had time to take Julianne on a date anyway.
      This weekend, he’d finally gotten their essays graded and his lessons planned two whole weeks in advance, and he’d been looking forward to relaxing a little. He’d wanted to go out, actually, but Kurt had said he and Julianne were visiting her parents; Julianne had said she had to do laundry. Well, whatever. He’d just relax.
      Or that’s what he’d thought, but then he’d read a poem written by one of his students, Victoria. The quality of it wasn’t anything impressive, but the content was disturbing indeed. He’d had concerns about her for a while, but from what he could make of her writing, he felt that she was genuinely afraid to go home. Whether she was being molested, abused, or simply neglected, he wasn’t sure, but it was enough for him to drive out to her family’s house and touch base.
      That had been eight hours ago. In the interim, he’d seen squalor, bruises, sobbing children, shouting parents, whining police sirens, child services case workers… 
      James still didn’t know what to make of it. He just knew that Victoria couldn’t be worse off than she’d been. He was too emotionally exhausted to even process it at this point. So exhausted, in fact, that he didn’t notice the presence of a robed figure peering in through the tiny window of his basement apartment, an expression of great sympathy on his face. “Sympathy,” in fact, was the only word he spoke before departing, not wishing to deprive the public servant of his much-needed rest.
      Sunday began strangely for James Stringer. Maybe it was the previous day’s emotionally harrowing journey, or maybe he was coming a little unglued, but he found himself going to a jewelry store and buying, of all things, a pearl necklace. It cost him every penny he’d managed to save up over the school year and he still had to put some on credit. He promptly went home with it, then, with part of himself looking on in horror, the other parts of him ground up a few pearls with a mortar and pestle from his kitchen.
      He added a single drop of honey, and then, for reasons he couldn’t understand, he took his thumb and smeared it across the doorframe of his apartment.
      “What in the hell did I just do…?!”
      But he had no answer. He just shook himself, then slumped down into his chair to ponder what on earth he’d done, and how he was going to pay for the necklace. 
      Then, there was a knock at the door. With the door situated in his landlady’s backyard, nobody ever knocked except the landlady herself. It was a strange term to apply to Evelyn, a woman not five years older than him, who’d inherited the place from her parents. He had little patience for her. She charged too much, fixed too little, and was a quintessential ice queen, beautiful and frigid.
      “Coming, Evelyn,” he said. He went to the door, and of course, it was her, sneering down at him.
      Only then, she wasn’t. Then, she was looking down at the basement with a bewilderingly awe-struck expression. She peered at it like she’d never seen it before. “Hi… James…” she managed, though she never even looked at him.
      “Look, I know I’m a couple days late with the rent. I get paid Friday, and then I’ll have it to you first thing, plus a little extra, I promise.”
      She still seemed oblivious to his presence, looking around at what she could see from atop the stairs. “Evelyn? If you’re looking for my checkbook, I promise you, it’s not going to do you any good. Um, Evelyn?” He waved his hand in front of her face, but she just craned her neck around it, then brushed it aside and came in, walking past him and down into the unadorned room.
      “Hey! I happen to know you don’t have a right to enter my apartment unless it’s an emergency or I’m at least a month behind, ya know.” Still no response, but when he ran out in front of her, he saw a big, silly grin on her face. He hadn’t seen her smile since he’d put his signature on the rental agreement.
      A little worried, he snapped his fingers in her face. “Evelyn!”
      That seemed to do the trick. “Oh. Um, hi James.” Her voice had a dreamy quality to it.
      “Are you high? Did you hear anything I just said to you?”
      She smiled broadly. “No, I don’t use drugs. Yes, I heard you. And the rent’s $20 a day late.”
      “Great, message received. Now if you’re done gloating over your triumph, would you mind leaving?”
      She gasped. “What? No! No, I want to stay!”
      He eyed her askance. “This is my apartment, Evelyn. For me and my invited guests only. If you haven’t gotten your check this time next month, you can come back.” James pointed to the door emphatically.
      “James, please – please don’t make me go. I’ll… do those repairs you wanted.”
      This was getting weirder and weirder, but still, he wasn’t one to turn away a landlady looking to do her part for a change. “Suit yourself, then.” He sketched out a list of the things he remembered – the missing socket panel, the drippy faucet, the broken fan over the stove, and so on. She took her time about it, that was for sure, grinning around blissfully and sometimes losing herself for minutes at a time before returning to her task. 
      A couple times, she needed to go back up to the main house, where she lived, and get some tools; at those times, she literally ran. He could hear her footsteps clomping around through his ceiling, running around like she couldn’t wait to get back and change light bulbs for him. As soon as she was back inside, she moved like molasses.
      Still, the list was only so long, and a few hours later, she was done. He actually found her just sitting on the edge of his tub, eyes closed, smiling brightly at nothing. “OK, Evelyn, looks like you’re all done now. Can I have my apartment back?”
      Her eyes opened in a panic. “No! No, please, I can… Hmm. I can clean for you? Yeah, that could take hours!” She smiled at that, for some reason.
      “I can clean my own place – and it’s not that dirty. Are you… hiding from someone? If you’re in danger, Evelyn…” Maybe that could explain her rush upstairs, her relief at being down here.
      “Um… yes?” The lie was so transparent, he just rolled his eyes.
      “No. You’re just… I don’t know what you’re doing, actually, and I don’t care. Out.”
      “Let me stay! Please, please let me stay!” she cried, falling to her knees in front of him. “I’ll do anything you want, just don’t make me go!”
      “What? Why are you acting like this? What’s so special about my damn apartment?” He tried not to think about it, the sight of his sexy landlady on her knees in front of him, pleading.
      “I don’t know! I just love it in here, OK? It’s the best place I’ve ever been! I’ve been in here before, obviously, but suddenly today, it’s just… I can’t leave. Please, James. Please. I’ll… I’ll waive your rent for the month if you let me stay.”
      Well, there’s a gift horse if ever there was one. Besides, the nature of that pearl and honey mixture was beginning to make sense to him. “For how long?”
      “Forever! Let me stay, and you never have to pay me again!”
      “I actually meant how long do I have to let you stay.”
      “Oh.” She looked like this was a much more difficult question. “Um, for the rest of the evening? I’m sure it’ll be out of my system by then. It has to be.” She sounded unconvinced nevertheless.
      James agreed, and – not being a total sucker – had her put it in writing, saving a copy for both of them. The rest of the evening she just sat around, staying out of his hair and grinning like an idiot. Finally, it got to be late, and he needed to go to bed.
      “All right, Evelyn, you’ve had your fun – time to scoot, for real this time.”
      “Oh. Um, there’s nothing else I can do to convince you to let me stay?”
      The teacher hesitated, not sure he was hearing the hint he thought he was. “I don’t need any more noise and bustle in here while I’m trying to sleep. Sorry.”
      She took a deep breath. “What if… what if I slept with you?”
      The foundation of his resolve not take advantage of her cracked a little further. “You mean… sleep with me as in go to sleep also, like on the couch, or sleep with me as in…?”
      “Whichever you want. Whichever one lets me stay. I don’t care. I’ll do anything you want if–”
      “–If you can stay, I get it, I get it. Look, Evelyn… I’m not sure if I’m ready to get involved with anyone right now…”
      “You don’t have to get involved. You can just fuck me. However you want. Anywhere you want.”
      “Anywhere? Like… what if I wanted to do it in your apartment?”
      She shook her head vigorously. “No. I meant you can fuck me anywhere on my body. Mouth, pussy, boobs, butt… whatever you want would make me happy. Please, James. You’d be doing me a favor.”
       It turned out that James Stringer was the type who liked to do favors. He was also the type to not want to let an absentee landlady off the hook easily. “All right, Evelyn. You can stay, for as long as you’re able to keep my interest up.”
      She heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you thank you thank you!” She kissed him then, as passionately as he’d ever been kissed. When she pulled back, he could see her nipples tenting out her shirt, and he had no doubt that her arousal was more from his apartment than his own technique.
      But who the hell cared. Besides, he needed to know just how effective this magic was.
      “Strip for me, Evelyn. Make it good – your presence here depends on it.”
      The blonde grinned. “Of course, James.” She used her phone to bring up some music, something with a slow but steady beat, and as he sat back on his bed, she began dancing for him. She wasn’t even shy or coy about it – just being allowed to be in the apartment had made her so happy that whatever kept her there was just part of the thrill.
      Off went her blouse, her skirt, her bra, and she had him take the panties off himself. She practiced a little twerking – a term his students had taught him – once she was good and naked. 
      “So, was that good?” she asked self-consciously. 
      “Um, yeah,” he said, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. “Yeah, that was pretty good.”
      She grinned. “Great. What next?”
      “I told you – you have to keep my interest up. If you can’t figure out how to do that…”
      “No no, I can figure it out. In fact,” she said, sliding down to her knees, “would it be all right if I gave you a blowjob? Not a quick one, not one just to do it and get it over with. I want to suck your cock for an hour. At least. Would you be OK with that, letting me give your cock a nice, long suck?”
      What followed was one of the most thoroughly relaxing experiences of James’ life to date. He didn’t look at the clock, but it felt like it went on for days, Evelyn’s leisurely licking and sucking of his cock. She seemed to possess infinite patience, never tiring, never even trying to bring him to the brink. Every time he began to get close, she’d pull back and spend some time tongueing his balls or nuzzling his shaft with her nose and cheek.
      “Thank you for letting me do this,” she said, probably a hundred times as she worked.
      She was skillful enough that he never got bored, but nonetheless at one point his head lolled to one side where his alarm clock annoyingly told him it was going on one in the morning. “Much as I hate to say it… I gotta get to sleep, Evelyn. I have to work in the morning.”
      “That’s fine,” she said between licks. “You go right off to sleep, and I’ll just be here keeping your cock company. Think of my blowjob as a lullaby.”
      He didn’t think it would work, but sure enough, he drifted off and slept like the dead. He had blazing hot sex dreams all night, many of them featuring Evelyn, but she wasn’t the only one by a long shot. When he woke up, though, it was her lips that were still wrapped around his cock.
      She’d fallen asleep that way. James even managed to pull it out without waking her; his morning routine didn’t either. He left even earlier than usual, though left behind a note to Evelyn that she could stay as long as she wanted, but if she stuck around, he wanted to place spotless when he got home. Just because a spell made her friendly didn’t mean she’d actually changed, or that he now suddenly liked her.
      The school was dead silent when he arrived; students wouldn’t show up for more than an hour. He set to work grinding up a few more pearls at his desk, and when he was done, he mixed it with a drop of honey and, with a swift hand, applied the solution where he needed it.
      Though, if this worked, it probably wouldn’t be the last. 
      The clock still said it’d be another twenty minutes before the first buses arrived, so he hurried down to Julianne DeVeaux’s room. Like usual, she was in early, setting out ingredients for her students’ cooking lessons that day. “Heya, James,” she said pleasantly. “Enjoy your casual weekend?”
      “Not really,” he replied tersely, not wanting to re-live the upsetting events of Saturday. Sunday, on the other hand, she’d find out about soon enough. “How about you? Visiting your parents, was it?”
      “Visiting my… oh yeah, yeah. Fun as always.” She smiled blithely at her lie.
      “Say, speaking of fun, I had something I wanted to show you.” She looked up from measuring out baking soda, then did a double-take at the sight of her colleague’s penis hanging free in the room.
      “James! What are you… doing…?” Like Evelyn, her expression soon became an idiotic grin, staring raptly at it.
      “Oh, you don’t like it?” He pulled his boxers back over it.
      “No! I do – I really like it. You can… you can leave it out…. If you want… Please…”
      “Well, since you asked nicely,” he said, pulling it back out. 
      Julianne took stumbly steps towards him, seating herself at one of the students’ desk so she could look at it close up. “It’s… so beautiful…”
      “Glad you like it, Julianne.”
      She leaned closer and closer, her nose almost touching it, her tremulous breath teasing through his pubic hair, her gaze going cross-eyed at the proximity. “James? Could I… touch it? Please? I’ll be gentle, I promise. I just… need to see how it feels.” 
      “Sure, go ahead.”
      She smiled at his permission, then brought up a quivering hand to stroke along it with her fingertips. After his epic blowjob last night never getting him off – that he remembered, at least – he was on edge, and got hard in an instant. This seemed to please Julianne all the more, that there were several more inches to admire now.
      “This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. James, I can’t believe you hid this from me!” It wasn’t meant as an accusation, quite.
      “You think it looks amazing, Julianne, you should see how it tastes.”
      She glanced up at him, but only for a moment. “Really? I mean… could I? Would that be OK with you, just to… give it a little taste?”
      “Sure,” he said, then waited until her mouth opened before adding, “if you think Kurt would be all right with it.”
      She hesitated. “Oh. Him. I mean… he’s a pretty understanding guy. I think he’d understand. Even if he didn’t, maybe it’d be OK to just break up? If it meant more of this…”
      “Well, if you think that’s what’s best… go right ahead.” 
      Not a second later, Julianne DeVeaux’s mouth was wrapped around his cock, and she was bobbing up and down, tongue lashing at it like it was her favorite flavor anything and she couldn’t get enough. His cock was the only thing that mattered to her.
      So much so that she didn’t even look up when the door opened and Brigitte Mahoney walked in. “Miss DeVeaux, I…” The girl froze as she saw her sewing class teacher blowing her English teacher. It was weird for her to see a teacher at the grocery store, much less this.
      James’ embarrassment reflex kicked in a moment later, so when Julianne didn’t stop sucking him off, he had to pull back, then further back as she tried to follow him. “Brigitte, look, I can explain. You see, we were… Brigitte…? Brigitte, are you… Oh, shit.”
      There it was, the same blissed-out look on Julianne’s face, beginning the moment she got sight of his dick once he pried it loose. Pretty little Brigitte, from his senior English class, a short but curvy blonde with little nerd-girl glasses to keep her good looks from branding her a bimbo. He’d coached her through her college admissions essays, helped her improve her critical reading skills, even worked with her after school a couple of times on some essays she’d wanted help with.
      Right now, though, she wasn’t a student. She was a girl who was in love with his cock.
      “Mr. Stringer? That’s… you’re so… I can’t believe…” she babbled on, finally composing herself enough to sigh dreamily as she settled into the seat next to Julianne. “I love your cock, Mr. Stringer.”
      Shit shit shit! This was not part of the plan, damnit! “Brigitte, what are you doing here so early?”
      “My mom dropped me off early today, and I wanted to see if I could borrow a needle and some thread to fix the stitching on one of my buttons.” Her words were addressed to his dick.
      “Brigitte, I need to ask you not to tell anyone about what you saw here. Ms. DeVeaux and I could get in a lot of trouble, and–”
      “Sure, whatever you say,” she agreed instantly.
      With students evidently in the building, he apparently wouldn’t have time for his original plan, so he quickly tucked his package away and buttoned up. Brigitte and Julianne both immediately expressed alarm at its disappearance. “No, please! Just a few more minutes with it!” cried his colleague, right on top of “Mr. Stringer, no, you can’t tease me like that, I’m young and impressionable!”
      “Sorry, ladies. But I tell you what. If you’re both well-behaved today,” he said, feeling a bit off talking to his co-worker about not misbehaving, “you can come to my room after school and I might let you see it again. OK?”
      “But pleeeeeeeease,” the girls whined in near-unison.
      “No excuses, ladies. Now you keep this to yourself, and do good work today, or else no more for either of you, ever.”
      “I’ll do SO good, Mr. Stringer, you’ll see!” Brigitte insisted vehemently.
      “Me too, Mr. Stringer!” Julianne said, not even noticing she’d called him that, like she was a student too.
      He made a hasty exit and retreated to his classroom, wondering how he was going to fix this. Damnit, he didn’t even know how long this took to wear off – if it even did! Or what would happen at such a time. He’d been so horny and gotten such so turned on thinking of Julianne begging for his cock like his landlady had that he hadn’t thought things through. 
      Thank goodness Brigitte was eighteen, at least, and that it had been her and not a male student. In the future, he thought he could tweak the juice so it only affected women, but still. Thank goodness male faculty had a private restroom and he didn’t have to worry about using a urinal. James shuddered at the thought of what trouble that might cause.
      Before long, his classroom was full of students, and he had no choice but to abandon his musings and get on with it. He went through his day, knowing that he had the tool to make every single one of his students do anything he wanted right there in his pants.
      In second period, Candace Vance showed up almost five minutes late. He asked if she had a pass, and she just rolled her eyes at him without even responding.
      In third period, he caught Jennica Washington playing games on her phone three different times. After the first two warnings he told her he was confiscating it; she made such a fuss that he almost had to send her to the office before her friends talked her out of getting herself suspended over something so trivial.
      Fifth period, he caught Shelly Piedmont taking a photo of his quiz with her phone to share with her friends who had him later in the day. She lied to his face and said she’d just been getting a text from her mom; Brigitte Mahoney, however, ratted her out, smiling sweetly at her teacher, the only sign of her seduction she gave all class.
      Sixth period, his last of the day thanks to his last period teach prep, he had to simply endure Trish Billingsley’s obnoxious mouth and attitude. Nothing in particular, just a non-stop disrespectful distraction, as ever indignant any time he asked her to stop.
      “Will you please just keep quiet for five minutes!” he finally barked at her, his irritation bubbling over.
      “Aww, sounds like someone has their panties in a twist,” she said mockingly. She knew she didn’t need better than a D in his class, and wasn’t aiming for anything higher.
      “That’s it, stick around after class, Trish.” The class did their characteristic “ooooooh” at it, though Trish just laughed. She knew full well there was very little he could punish her with at this point. For the next twenty minutes as the class read through MacBeth, all he could think about was what he would say to her.
      Or what he would show to her. She was an adult in the eyes of the law, after all. Only four years and change his junior. Definitely no virgin, if even a quarter of her reputation was to be believed.
      He could do it. Couldn’t he?
      She waited around for him gamely, smirking all the while as her friends patted her shoulder and wished her luck with what would surely be just another feeble chewing-out by Mr. Stringer. He waited until they were alone, then shut the door.
      “So what, you gonna give me the whole ‘even if you don’t want to learn, maybe your peers do’ spiel again, Stringy? ‘Cause maybe you didn’t realize, nobody’s learning anything in this stupid class.”
      If he hadn’t decided before, that decided him. “I don’t know, Trish, I think I could teach you a thing or two.”
      She made a face. “What is that tone? Are you flirting with me or something? That is so fucking gross. Holy shit, what are you doing! This is sexual harass… that’s so… bad…”
      There it was in front of her, and thus was Trish Billingsley’s attitude broken with a glimpse of his magical cock. “Trish, I think you and I need to come to an understanding.”
      She nodded. “Mmhmm. Whatever you say, Stringy.” 
      “There’s a good point. I know when you call me by the wrong name you’re just trying to get my goat. I’d like you to call me Mr. Stringer, or sir. Understand?”
      She smiled at his cock, slowly inching her way around his desk as if she were trying not to be noticed. “Yes sir, Mr. Stringer.”
      “I’d also like you to behave yourself during my class. No more outbursts, or eye-rolling, or throwing paper, or cursing when you don’t think I can hear you, or talking back when I ask you to do something.”
      She giggled. “Now why would I do that?”
      He laughed right back. “Suit yourself.” And he tucked his cock away.
      Trish collapsed to her knees, crawling forward desperately. “No! No, bring it back! I’m sorry! I’ll be good from now on, sir! Please, just bring it back! I’ll be good, I promise!”
      “That’s the spirit, Trish. You sass me at any point, talk back at all, show me any attitude, and you never see it again, understand?”
      “I understand, Mr. Stringer sir!” 
      He gave her a moment to wallow in her desperation, then slid his pants back down, stepping out of them, then lowering his boxers enough to let her take in her prize. The worshipful look on her face was all it took to get him hard, and he’d be lying if he said her body wasn’t cause enough on its own. She was one of those girls made for high school basketball, captain of the team – tall and leggy, plenty of muscle in her thighs – while being exactly the sort not to make it far in college – big DD tits, a curvy body better suited to being looked at than being run up and down a court. 
      “Oh thank you, sir!” she cooed. “I’ll be totally good from now on, promise. No more bullshit.”
      “Trish, was that a curse word?” he chided.
      “No! Oh I’m so sorry. You can punish me however you want, a million detentions or whatever, just don’t pull your underwear back up!”
      “However I want, hmm? What if I wanted to make you write extra essays?”
      “Sure – name the topic, I’ll do ‘em. And no more copying from the internet, I promise.”
      “So… you’re saying you think the work for my class is punishment, is that right?”
      She glanced up at him, taken aback. “Oh. Um, no? No, I love doing it. I do now, anyway. I will from now on.”
      “So if that’s not punishment, I’ll have to think of something else. What do you think would be a good punishment for you, Trish? Bear in mind, I just put up with your crap for most of an hour – better part of a year, really – so that one little profanity isn’t the only thing you have to answer for.”
      She seemed to be thinking it over for a good long while, until he realized she’d just gotten lost in staring at his cock. He covered it with a hand, which got her attention. “Trish? Answer my question.”
      “Oh. Um… hmm. Well, I guess… oh! I really hate giving head. So you could, umm, make me suck you off,” she said, licking her lips.
      “Why don’t I believe you, Trish? You look like you’re a little slut who would love to suck me off if I gave her half a chance.”
      “I would, OK?! Come on, Mr. Stringer, aren’t you always talking about how people deserve second chances and shit? Just let me suck it!”
      He shook his head disappointedly. “That’s twice now, Trish. I’m afraid to teach a girl as poorly behaved as yourself, I’m going to have to do something more extreme.”
      She grimaced. “Are you gonna call my mom again? Because believe me, she’s the one who taught me to talk like this, and she could care less.”
      “No, I was actually thinking of something more along the lines of corporal punishment.”
      She froze. “What! I thought you said you were against the death penalty!”
      James sighed patiently. “That’s capital punishment.”
      “Oh. What’s the difference?”
      “Bend over my lap and I’ll show you.”
      She paused. “But then, how will I… see it?”
      Well, if you position yourself right, you’ll feel it instead. All right?”
      Her eyes sparkled with delight, and in an instant, she was bent over his lap, her denim shorts clinging to her curves so tightly he could see her panty line through them. She wriggled over to press her hip against his cock, squealing in delight when she felt it.
      “You know… you could probably feel it better if you weren’t wearing those shorts.”
      “Oh! That’s a great idea, Mr. Stringer!” She was out of them in seconds, and then when she realized her panties were in the way too, they followed without him even suggesting it. 
      There it was, Trish Billingsley’s bare ass just waiting for him. He’d be lying if he said he’d never imagined this, especially those days where she was especially trying. The day he’d caught her plagiarizing her essay and she accused him of framing her in front of the whole class. The day she’d had a cold and left a pile of snotty tissues on her desk for him to pick up. 
      The day she’d stage-whispered to her friend her suspicion of where the name “Stringy” came from. 
      With that thought in mind, his hand clapped down, hard.
      “Ow! Is this what incorporeal punishment is?! Spanking me?!” she groused.
      “You bent over my lap, naked–”
      “–bottomless–”
      “–fine, bottomless, to be punished, and this possibility didn’t occur to you?” He swatted her again, her plump cheeks reddening. “See, this is what we call a ‘context clue,’ Trish.”
      “Oh yeah, I remember you talking – ow! – about those.” Her grin faded only briefly, and only barely, with each firm smack.
      Her teacher went on for some minutes like this, venting months of pent-up frustration. He could have gone on for much longer, truth be told – this sort of power, taking this disrespectful little brat and making her behave. Finally, though, he decided he needed to stop before he left welts and the litte bitch couldn’t sit downfor a week.
      Only… just a few more. She seemed so happy to let him, after all.
      Of course, his greed was his undoing.
      “Mr. Stringer, I think I left my… notebook… under my… cock…” Cadie Harris had walked in without knocking or announcing. Seeing Trish Billingsley bare-assed on his lap, she paused; seeing his cock peeking up over her hip, she just stared.
      If he’d had to guess at someone interrupting him, it would’ve been she. Cadie was a true airhead, not just playing dumb for attention from boys like lots of girls her age unfortunately did, but genuinely and unabashedly dumb.
      She did, however, have the face and tits of an angel, which seemed to be doing just fine at getting her through life so far. Cadie wasn’t a bad kid, just helplessly unacademic. Another soon-to-be-graduate, she was destined to wind up some guy’s trophy wife someday; he didn’t worry about her missing any meals.
      Only now, he had to worry about having yet another girl’s brain scrambled by his power. “Shut the door!” he yelled, before someone else came in. “And lock it, please.”
      “OK,” she said, casually obeying. It was awkward, watching her fumble blindly at the door as her eyes stayed riveted on her teacher’s lap. Once she managed it, she came over and stood next to him.
      “Hi, Cadie,” Trish said after managing to look back and see her. “Isn’t it amazing?”
      “Yeah,” the brunette said spacily. “Super super amazing.”
      “Don’t get any big ideas though – I saw it first. It’s mine. Right, Mr. Stringer? Please?”
      “It’s mine, not yours, Trish, and I’ll decide who gets to touch it.”
      “Aw, c’mon, I let you spank me, didn’t I?”
      “You can spank me!” Cadie offered brightly. “Um, if I can touch it, that is.”
      “No, Mr. Stringer, please! C’mon, I suck a mean cock – I could show you. You won’t regret it, I promise.”
      “Oh, no fair! I could suck it too!”
      “No, I wanna suck it!”
      “No, me!”
      “Ladies!” he said, and they quickly quieted. “Now, this is a school, and we use our indoor voices? Understand?”
      “Yes, Mr. Stringer,” they said together.
      “Now, it looks like both of you feel like you feel like you deserve this. So what seems fair, considering where we are, is to have each of you sit down and write me to me a short argumentative essay explaining why you’re the one who should be allowed to suck my cock.”
      They both fell to whining and pleading about the unfairness of it, but they fell silent when he tucked it away. “Neither of you get to so much as look at it until your essays are done. Understand? You have twenty minutes, starting now – may the best arguer win.” 
      Given what he’d seen of how intense the effect was, he was impressed with their level of concentration. Indeed. It was the most focused he remembered ever seeing either of them, though Trish Billingsley sitting there bare-assed in his classroom hardly helped his own ability to concentrate. He reminded them of the time as they worked, and both came right down to the wire, hustling over when he reported time was up. Without his even asking, both knelt at his side while he perused their work, staring adoringly at the crotch of his pants, and the paradise concealed within.
      He read Trish’s first.
      
      There are many reasons why I should be allowed to give you a blowjob. Not only am I an experienced cock-sucker, but I have been told on multiple occasions that I am very skilled at it. I do not wish to make myself sound slutty  whorish  like a herpes-infested skank like SOME people, but I think I am quite an impressive specimen around the groinal area. I once made Kentrell Hatcher actually pass out I sucked him so good. Besides, you have already spanked me and so I feel like I have put in time and effort that others have not and thus I am more deserving of the opportunity to suck you off. Plus I know I have always been a little rude to you, so think how good it will feel to have me on my knees with your dick in my mouth. It will feel as good for you in your brain as it will on your cock probably. Give Trish a chance!
      
      “Not bad, Trish, not bad. Some concerns with run-ons, and I don’t think invective is going to get you very far in this sort of competition.”
      “What’s ‘invective’ mean?” Cadie asked.
      “Ugh, of course a dumb-ass bimbo like you wouldn’t know,” Trish said with a mocking laugh.
      “That. That’s invective. Which I believe seconds ago I just warned you against, didn’t I?”
      “Sorry, Mr. Stringer. Want to spank me again?” She grinned.
      He ignored her and went on to Cadie’s essay. All of the i’s were dotted with hearts, like usual, complementing her choice of ink that was so pink he had a hard time reading it.
      
      To who’m it may concern,
      My name is Cadie Harris and for my thesis I think you should let me give you a blowjob! First, I would really be good at it because I want it REALLY REALLY bad!!! Second, you will enjoy it a lot because blowjobs feel good I want to do it for you. Third, their are several times trying to look down my shirt at my boobies or sometimes when I tease u a little and leave my legs spread just a lil when i am wearing a skirt so i kno you find me sexy. I thought it was weird before but now i don’t care u can do anything you want to me if i can be with you’re cock. Even stuff with my pussy or my boobies to not just my mouth. In conclusion, I would like to suck your cock! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!
      - Cadie <3
      
      “Well, Cadie, there are definitely some mechanical concerns in here, but I do like that you made an effort to use transitions, an introduction and conclusion. A marked improvement over your previous work.”
      “Thanks, Mr. Stringer! I tried not to use any infections, like you said.”
      “That’s not… that’s… well, good work on that.” She beamed.
      “Her essay is total crap! She misspelled whom for crying out loud – and it wasn’t even a letter! Come on, you can’t seriously be telling me that’s better than mine!” Trish protested.
      Cadie frowned, then, with a light bulb practically visible over her head, she just took her top off, revealing two perfectly smooth orbs stuffed into a frilly pink bra. “I meant it about my boobies, Mr. Stringer!” 
      “Now she’s cheating, sir! Totally not fair! And violating the dress code, I might add.”
      “You’re not wearing any pants, Trish!” Cadie argued.
      She glared a moment, then hastily pulled off her own shirt, and her bra as well. Cadie, not to be out-done, quickly shed her pants, with the girls racing to get their underwear off before the other. He didn’t know which one lost the competition, but he knew he was the winner.
      Once stripped, they fell to bickering and pleading for him to make a decision, or at least to let his cock out while he thought it over. Then, suddenly, the bell rang. The last period was over; students poured into the halls to prepare to leave for the day.
      “You girls have buses to catch?”
      “I drive,” said Trish.
      “I only live a few blocks from here,” Cadie said.
      Both knelt naked, eagerly waiting for his decision, completely uncaring about the thousands of their peers just outside the door. By now, he was pretty sure their behavior would be no different if he were having them do this in the middle of the auditorium in front of the whole student body.
      “Well, let’s just hold off until the halls are clear, just in case, all right?” They agreed – reluctantly – and the room settled into an eerie silence as the two girls just needily ogled their teacher’s crotch.
      Then, there was a knock at the door. “Mr. Stringer?” came a voice. Julianne’s. Oh shit. And worse, she had a key to the room – she and Kurt and he all had spares made so they could help one another out when need arose.
      “Under the desk, ladies – quick! Not a sound!” They didn’t ask questions – to their minds, it just meant being closer to his dick. The two pressed tightly together, huddling in the hollow space beneath his desk. 
      Not a moment too soon, because Julianne was keying into the room, and Brigitte was right behind her. They both looked immensely relieved to see him, though their eyes diverted instantly to his groin.
      “Oh, hi ladies. I’d actually sort of forgotten you were coming by.” Bizarre to think he could have forgotten something like Julianne DeVeaux swinging by to give him head.
      “We sure didn’t,” she said. “So, what do you say we cut the chit-chat and pick up where we left off?”
      Brigitte nodded. “I was good today, wasn’t I? I helped you with the thing with Shelly, and I did really well on my quiz. Right?”
      “I… suppose you’re right.”
      “So… can I?”
      “You’re just a student, Brigitte. You need to wait for the adults to be done,” Miss DeVeaux said firmly.
      “No way!” came a voice from under his desk. Trish. “It’s MY turn! Or at the very least, I’m second in line!”
      “Me too?” Cadie asked, peering out.
      Brigitte and Julianne now saw the two naked girls emerging from their hiding spot with shock. “Mr. Stringer!” Julianne said. “Are those two naked students under your desk?”
      “I know, I know, this looks bad, but I can explain, really I can…”
      “Explain? I’m not judging – I just don’t like all the competition.” She frowned.
      “You don’t know the half of it, Miss DeVeaux,” Trish said. “You haven’t even written your essay yet.”
      His colleague arched an eyebrow, and he sheepishly explained. “I like that,” she said after. “Your cock is just the incentive some of these girls need to push themselves. I can only imagine how much harder I would’ve worked in school if I’d had a teacher like you. With a cock like yours.”
      “I’ll write an essay!” Brigitte volunteered. “Do I need to be naked first?”
      “Yes, and what’s your policy on the eligibility of faculty submissions?”
      Mr. Stringer smiled at her. “Julianne, I’ve been dreaming of you submitting to me since I first laid eyes on you.”
      She grinned. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
      “That’s not submitting then, is it. Just exchanging. Show me yours, and we’ll see.”
      The pretty brunette teacher immediately began undoing the buttons of her blouse. “Me too?” Brigitte asked, worried she’d be forgotten in the parade of flesh.
      “Go ahead and strip, Brigitte, then wait with Trish and Cadie.” She grinned, then began the hasty process of disrobing, joining her peers on her knees at his side.
      With her more cumbersome top undone, Julianne stood before him in her bra and a denim dress. “You call that submitting?” he prodded.
      “Strip, Miss DeVeaux! Strip!” Trish pleaded, frustrated with the delay of her prize. The other girls soon echoed her, begging and whining for their teacher to join them in nudity.
      The peer pressure – for now, these desperate, pleading teenage girls were for all intents and purposes her peers – wasn’t ineffective, but the chance to see James’ cock again was what really drove her. She removed her dress, then a cute matching set of surprisingly sexy bra and panties.
      “Whoa, Miss DeVeaux shaves!” Cadie exclaimed, pointing. Indeed, she did, baby smooth.
      “Um, my boyfriend… likes it that way.” She said shyly. Her cheeks colored at that admission, but not at the nudity. Maybe because it wasn’t immediately related to getting at his dick? 
      “You mean, Mr. Donovan?” Brigitte asked. “Wow, I never thought he would like… that, from someone like you.”
      Julianne shrugged. “I just try to be a good girlfriend, I guess. It’s not a big deal.”
      It wasn’t. Yet… the knowledge served to remind him of the short end of the stick he’d drawn compared to his so-called colleague in the gym. He never had homework to grade, or lessons to plan, or standardized tests to worry about. While James was doing those things every evening and weekend, Kurt was out fucking Julianne. And making the same money he did. 
      “Yeah, you know… speaking of things Kurt would like to see, why don’t you call him on down here?”
      “Down here? I mean, if he sees me like this… he’ll break up with me. I mean, I will, but… I guess, so you know.”
      “Sure. If you’d rather have Kurt’s cock than mine, be my guest. Just close the door behind you, so the girls and I can have our privacy.” 
      Julianne broke immediately. “No no, it’s no trouble!” She fetched her phone from her disarded dress, and made a call. “Hey, babe, it’s me… Yeah, I wondered if you could give me a hand with something, down in James’ room? … I know you have practice… I know you don’t, um, like to…” Like to hang out with the book nerd, she meant. “But please? For me? … Look, it’s an emergency, OK!”
      That finally seemed to sell him. “He’s coming,” she announced to the group, clearly self-satisfied despite the consequences she’d just brought down on herself. Then, she settled in, nudging her way into the middle between Cadie and Trish.
      At last, James stood up, and with theatrical methodicalness, undid his belt, his button, his fly, stepping out of his pants. The girls trembled in anticipation as he turned his back to them, slowly lowering his boxers to the ground and stepping out of them. Finally, his shirt followed, and once he was good and naked, he turned to face the girls.
      Their faces lit up like they’d each found their own pony under the Christmas tree.
      “It’s so beautiful,” said Julianne.
      “You’re my favorite teacher,” said Brigitte.
      “This is, like, the bestest thing EVER,” said Cadie.
      “It’s about damn time,” said Trish.
      James walked sideways in front of them, close enough that each girl got the chance to extend her tongue and get a little lick as he passed. He went back and forth, giving them taste after taste, until he finally stopped in front of Julianne, took two handfuls of her curly hair, and pulled her face down onto his cock.
      She didn’t resist in the least. If anything, his pulling had slowed her down. When Kurt entered the room, she was still happily slurping, and she didn’t even look up.
      “Hi, Mr. Donovan,” Brigitte said, though she could only let herself be distracted for a moment. None of the girls seemed to care that another of their teachers was seeing them naked. What could that matter? Mr. Stringer wanted them that way, and he had the magic cock, so that was that.
      His jaw dropped at the sight of his sexy girlfriend deep-throating the nerdy English teacher. “Trish…? James…? Jules?! What the FUCK is going on here?! What the fuck is going on here?”
      “We’re taking turns sucking Mr. Stringer’s cock!” Cadie cheerfully explained.
      “I still don’t see why she gets to go first,” Trish grumbled, rubbing at her sore butt.
      “OK Jimbo, you got about three seconds to tell me what the fuck is going on here before I call somebody.” He glowered, his arms tensing. No doubt the “somebody” he called would be his instinct to kick ass first and use the system second.
      “Julianne here told me this morning that she wanted to suck my cock. We didn’t have time then, so I told her to stop by after school.”
      “That was my fault,” Brigitte offered remorsefully. “Sorry again, Mr. Stringer.”
      “Quite all right, Brigitte. Anyway, Julianne thought you might want to see her work. She’s having the time of her life, aren’t you Julianne?”
      “Mmmhmmm!” she hummed merrily.
      “Look, I don’t know what kind of sick fuckin’ game this is, and I don’t care. You’re goin’ down for this, pansy-boy!” 
      The powerful P.E. teacher started forward, fists clenched. James was impressed at how the teens stood up to block him, protecting him and his cock from harm as best they could. Kurt was reluctant to so much as touch a naked student, but he still firmly moved them aside one by one. By the time he had, Julianne had been nudged aside.
      He saw James cock, and he froze. “Holy SHIT, man. That’s… you’re… dude, you’re my fucking hero!”
      He grinned. “You’re not mad?”
      “Mad? You’ve gotta be shitting me! I mean, I was mad my slut of a girlfriend was blowing you, but… I get it now. Damn, Jules, you got good taste in cock!”
      “See?” she said indignantly. “I’m not just some ho, Kurt.”
      “No, I hear you girl. I’m sorry I interrupted – don’t mind me, babe!” He took a seat nearby, eyeing his co-worker’s cock like it was Peter North’s.
      Julianne did so – with James’ blessing – and this time, neither he nor anyone else interrupted. He had the girls fondle themselves, and one another, just to amuse him while she worked. Kurt made for a proper cheerleader, praising his girlfriend for her good work, encouraging her to use some of the techniques she’d practiced on him in the past. “To think, I’ve had my dick the same place as that! Damn, this is the proudest day of my life!”
       As he got closer to cumming, the girls – now all dripping with lust from being fondled, from the thought of being near his perfect cock – began whispering about how exciting it would be. “I wonder if his cum will taste as good as his thingy!” Cadie wondered aloud.
      “I bet it tastes even better,” Trish said, and they all agreed with the probability of this.
      “Mr. Stringer? Would you please have her share?”
      He smiled indulgently. “All right. Julianne, it’s going to happen soon, but no swallowing, understand? I want you to share with your co-sluts. Nobody swallows until everybody’s had a taste.”
      She nodded. Moments later, her cheeks bulged with the explosion of a lifetime. Trish all but pushed the other girls aside, locking her lips against her teacher’s and sucking out a goodly portion of the bounty. Brigitte intruded next, while Cadie open-mouth kissed Trish to get her share.
      “Uh’s suh guhd!” Brigitte exclaimed.
      “Uh knuh, ruh?!” Cadie replied.
      Mr. Stringer gazed down at them and smiled. “You can swallow now, ladies.”
      They did, each girl moaning in delight at the taste of his fluids like it was the ambrosia of the gods. Kurt soon came over and kissed Julianne, just to satisfy his own curiosity, grinning in appreciation of the bounty his girlfriend had produced.
      Having put it off thus far, he couldn’t resist a few pinches and gropes of the girls – they were only too happy to permit it, especially when he let them stroke his cock while he stroked their bodies. Tempted as he was to just fuck them then and there – and he could easily have managed the stamina for a go at each – there were a lot of variables in play here, and he didn’t need to wreck these poor girls’ futures by knocking them up. 
      He was here to make a difference, after all.
      James reluctantly bid them a good evening, though it was nowhere near the reluctance they felt. He entertained a little begging and whining, but when he said that if they kept it up he wouldn’t give them anything for tomorrow, they fell in line. Kurt and Julianne left hand in hand, openly discussing their hopes to talk James into bed with them (or at least, with Julianne, if James only wanted to let him watch again).
      For the girls, he had them each promise to do their homework, and even gave Trish and Cadie a list of makeup work they could do to bring their grades up. They literally skipped out of the room, talking about how excited they would be to do their work and impress their teacher. Brigitte already had an A, so to reward hard work, he let her rub her big tits on his cock for a few minutes once the others left. 
      Back home, Evelyn was waiting for him bare-ass naked. His apartment was cleaner than it had ever been – she was on her hands and knees getting every scrap out from under the refrigerator when he arrived. She spent the entire evening with her mouth attached to his cock – which now, somehow, was as amazing to her as his apartment! – as he drew up plans.
      Only these weren’t lesson plans. He’d never be able to go back to settling for that old framework, working himself to the bone for minimal results. Not when he now finally had the ultimate tool for inspiring young minds. 
      No, these plans were for a whole new school – a private school for young women who wanted to be pushed to their academic limits, who might need a little extra incentive to work for it. He would recruit faculty from anywhere and everywhere he liked, attracting the best of the best. Admission would be steep, to cover overhead and a steady supply of pearls. People would pay it, though, once they saw what he was offering. A new day was dawning for education.
      And if he got a few extra fringe benefits while he was at it… well, what difference would it make?
      
      
      
      A character’s background is, sadly, overlooked oftentimes. A character may not need to have any elaborate backstory to have a need to slay dragons, explore ruins, defy a dark priest or two. In many groups, especially among more mature players, a backstory is as essential to a character as their armor class and feat selection. Perhaps more so.
      Any character can earn experience, after all, as well as gold and jewels and magical treasures. This is automatic in the game process, and while it should be scrutinized for practical purposes, the difference between 200 gold pieces and 500 will likely have little or no impact on the story going forward. Yet the difference between a reformed brigand seeking to redeem himself and those same mechanics applied to a consciousless con artist only looking out for himself is night and day.
      In the end, for their own sake as well as for the DM’s, players must look at their character sheets and have a ready answer to some basic questions: What is my motivation, and how far am I willing to go for it?