From "nothing to do" counted men. Exactly ten people. None of them pays any attention to me, as if they are not near me. Soon came the first ladies. More precisely, two arrogant brunettes in tight jeans and short jackets made of the same material. Both are of my age (maybe a little older, but not by much), similar to each other, but definitely not sisters. They did not greet me, although they sat down beside me. They began to whisper about something, sipping mineral water from glasses.

When the water was over, they poured it from the bottle brought with them. Probably, the “stinkers” (that's how I called them myself) suffered a terrible hangover. This is not surprising, given the International Students' Day, marked by the "student fraternity" on the eve. And the fact that the “bitches” are students is not a question at all. Their outfits were from that, "my" gray world. And in no way from the world of big money, in which we were with them, only invited guests. The fact that they built themselves as noble maidens was their right. But to not believe in it was my right.

For these thoughts, I did not notice the appearance of another character in the room. And when she noticed, she was stunned. All because it was Apollo, descended from Olympus. No, really, you can laugh, but it was he! On the threshold stood a golden-haired, stately handsome man, in a snow-white shirt and iron trousers. When he saw me, he smiled broadly and beckoned a finger to himself. I, just in case, looked back so as not to look stupid if someone was called behind my back. But they called me exactly, because the “stinkers” continued to treat their state of health with some water, staring at the TV turned on.

I rose to my feet, and with an indecisive step moved towards the Apollo. He vigorously waved his hand, saying, "bolder, bolder!". Having approached him, I embarrassedly greeted me, admiring the regular features of his face and manly chin. Suddenly, I caught myself thinking that I no longer belong to Arslan. I now have a new idol.

A “idol”, meanwhile, took me by the hand and led me into the bathroom, similar to the Louvre. This applies to both the area occupied by the room and its design. Not a bathroom, but a real work of art. Mirrors, white painted marble and a huge jacuzzi bath, which I have never seen live before.

"Apollo" closed the door behind us and headed for the washstand, incidentally leaving me, as if by chance:

- Take off your clothes and get into the bath.

I was taken aback, but obeyed.

- All clothes? - clarified, taking off his dress and shoes.

“Yes, yes, all,” the curly-haired blond answered carelessly, rolling up his sleeves and carefully washing his hands.

I pulled off my white thong panties and an elegant bust. I climbed into the bath and, filled with shy blush (despite what happened yesterday, I was still modest in kind), I began to expect further orders. Resist the wishes of the new "idol" could not, even if she wanted.

The man, meanwhile, had finished washing his hands. Wiped them dry with a towel, and approached me. He looked around appreciatively, lingering on a small chest, and with a good-natured smile ordered him to kneel down.

- Well, beautiful, we will know? What is your name?

“Ira,” I answered shortly, looking up at him.

- Very nice, Ira. My name is Marcel, and you are at my house. Breakfast in the morning?

- I hardly eat in the morning. A little oatmeal, tea and an apple are my usual diet.

- I see.Judging by the diet and physical form - do you play sports? (again charming smile, in the style of Denzel Washington)

- I did, but this is already in the past, - I also smiled, penetrating the young man with sympathy.

- Sport can not be in the past. He has always been, is and will be. So you answer incorrectly. We need to say that you are on academic leave, and it does not matter that he can be for life, - Marcel spoke seriously, but not boringly. Unique human quality.

“Good,” I smiled again, “I’ll take it that way to answer that way.” Why did you ask me about breakfast?

- What for? Now you will understand why. Open your mouth as wide as possible.

Suspecting his intentions dimly, I carried out the order and opened my mouth wider. Marcel looked at him, and looked, holding me by the chin. Then he said, like a doctor:

- Well. Now stick your tongue out, and say, "Aaaa ...".

When this order was executed, Marcel laid his left hand on my nape, and a pair of fingers (index and middle) unceremoniously pushed his right hand into the throat, causing a strong gag reflex. I barely restrained myself from refusing to return the notorious oatmeal, apple and gulls to the world. She held back, although she understood that it was inevitable.

"Apollo" was exactly what he wanted, forcing him to choke on his fingers, and wash his own tears, involuntarily poured from his eyes. Especially impressionable, I do not recommend reading further. Since after a series of feverish attempts to fight off the torture that had begun, I still could not restrain myself, and indeed, I was sick. Then again and again, to the accompaniment of my tearing moans and convulsive wheezing. I choked and coughed strainingly, instinctively pushing Marcel with my hands. But for me it was an impossible task. The man acted very confidently, easily holding me in the most comfortable position for him.

During the next attack of nausea, I somehow inexplicably managed to push my fingers out, and immediately prayed, gasping for air with my mouth:

- Enough ... Marcel ... Enough! Please ... stop!

The pitiful requests greatly pleased my tormentor, who continued to smile. And he continued to force my nasopharynx with fingers (now not two, but four at once), saying:

- Not enough, Ira, not enough yet. Be patient.

Further more. Soon in my mouth was already half of his hand, and he was not enough. It seemed that a little more, and he would reach for my stomach, and I would turn inside out. Finally, I was so desolate that there was nothing left in me. And only now, when the vomit urges ceased to be accompanied by something else, apart from the convulsive reduction of the diaphragm, I received a long-awaited amnesty.

Marcel wiped his soiled hands on my hair. Then rinsed them in running water. Switched her (water) flow into the shower horn, and began to carefully bathe me, destroying traces of recent atrocities. I sat in the bath, and still could not breathe. For the first time in my life, I felt first-hand how expensive an elementary breath of air could be. Truly right are wise people who say that we do not value what we have. And we begin to appreciate, only by losing it.

When I, together with the bathroom, was washed, the Apollo left the room, ordering me to stay in place. He returned a minute later, with a bottle of mineral water, which he opened and handed to me.

- Drink it.

How grateful I was to him! My throat felt as if I had my tonsils without anesthesia, and the mineral water, in the current situation, was just a salvation. A few sips, and I immediately felt better. I handed the bottle back to Marcel with words of sincere thanks, but he refused to accept it (the bottle).

- Then thank you. Another drink.

- But I do not want more! - tried to argue.

“Drink, I told you,” the man was adamant.

I realized that it was useless to argue, and I took several forced sips.

- Still! - ordered ... Read more →