Tami signs "the contract" -- III

The offer of three credits for posing nude, plus being paid thirty dollars an hour for it as well, registered only vaguely in Tami’s mind.  Hunched over her plate, her white-knuckled hands gripping the edge of the table, her legs stretched back and looped around the neighboring chairs, the naked teenager gasped quietly as she concentrated on smothering the swell of arousal.  She was praying that Ross would be done soon and leave.

        “Let me ask you at this time, Miss Smithers, whether this arrangement would be acceptable to you.”

        Tami was in no condition to think of a response.  She just wanted Ross to leave!

        Henry Ross then said, with the slightest hint of menace, “In light of your willingness to assist Dr. Congi in her, ah, workshop, this arrangement would seem to me to be no problem for someone with your, ah, professed religion.”

        The way he said “professed” was scary.  It cleared Tami’s mind up for a second.  Ross had a point.  There was no reason why a religious nudist would object to posing nude, especially if it meant getting paid and easy college credit.

        But at the moment Tami cared mainly about getting this creep to go away.  “OK, yes, I’ll do it,” she said between gasping breaths, hoping this would end the conversation.

        But this was not to be.  “In addition,” Ross droned on, “the shortage of models has also affected our artists in residence and, ah, other members of the faculty and has hindered their artwork and, ah, other projects.  We have discussed your, ah, situation with them and they would very much like it if you could assist them, depending on your schedule of course, for a similar fee.  I believe --”

        “Yes, yes, yes!” Tami said.  At this point she would agree to anything if it meant getting Ross out of her face before she erupted in what looked like would be a volcanic orgasm.

        Henry Ross could see that Tami could not hold out much longer.   She was just moments away.  “I believe,” he continued, speaking with agonizing slowness, “this is a mutually beneficial arrangement.  Our art program and faculty would have its model shortage addressed, and you will get college credit and some spending money, in fact a good deal of spending money.”  He looked at Tami.  Her head was bowed as if praying.

        Ross reached inside his coat and pulled out a single sheet of typed paper.  “The arrangement with the faculty has been reduced to writing, and I believe it is a simple document which you can understand and sign.  I assume you are eighteen or older?”

        Tami didn’t answer.

        “Miss Smithers?”

        Tami slowly looked up.  Her eyes were dull.  Her eyelids were heavy.  Her breasts hung tightly from her torso, the nipples rock-hard, distended, and pointing toward her plate.  Sweat could be seen all over her naked body, or at least the part that was visible.  From the part that was not visible, a slight but unmistakeable odor of female musk filled the entire corner of the dining hall.

        “Are you eighteen or over?”

        Tami tried to form words with lips that would not cooperate.  Finally she said, “Y - y - y - yessss . . .”

        “When, may I ask, is your birthday?”

        Beneath the table, Jen bit on Tami’s clitoris and began to suck on it.

        Tami suddenly felt an orgasm about to crest.  With all her might she pushed her pelvis down to suppress it.  She emitted a long, strangled grunt which made it sound like she was constipated and trying to move her bowels.  “Nnnnnnnnhhh!!”

        Jen wondered why Tami was taking so long to come.  Maybe it was because her last orgasm, in the dorm, was only about an hour and a half ago.  Jen resolved to try harder.  She was inflamed with the competitive spirit she felt when performing on the gymnastics team.  Here she was now in Tami’s pussy, her favorite arena, and she was determined to give a virtuoso performance.  She pretended judges were watching.  She was going to go for perfect 10’s!

        Jen began to suck continuously on Tami’s clitoris as if it were a nipple.  Tami’s body shuddered and the cresting began again.  Jen only wished she could see intimidated, mortified look on Ross’s face!

        Henry Ross asked again, louder, “Miss Smithers, when is your birthday?”  With a quick glance at Jeffrey, he took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow, pretending he was sweating.

        Jeffrey Dillon leaned forward in anticipation.  Tami was about to come.  And it was going to be a big one!  This Ross dude will be so - o - o humiliated!

        Tami looked up.  Her eyes were almost rolled up into the back of her head.  Her whole body was shaking like a leaf about to be blown off a tree in a windstorm.  The sight was grotesque, but also morbidly fascinating to Henry Ross.  He squinted as the sadistic gleam in his eyes got more intense.

        As for Jeffrey, he had heard it said that when women are in the throes of orgasm they can look like they are in terrible pain.  This was certainly true of Tami.  Jen was right -- Tami’s face by turns was anguished, tortured, horrified, but in the end gorgeous.

        Ross asked a third time.  “Miss Smithers . . . when is your birthday?”

        The tortured girl’s eyebrows went in all sorts of crazy directions as she tried again to form words.  “J - j - j - j - j. . .”  She tried again.  “J - j - jullllllllyyyyyyyyy . . .”  With a final breath she spat out, “Twenty-ty-sevennn . . . ohhhhhhhhhh . . . ohhhhhhhh . . .”  She could no longer control the moans.

        “Well then,” Ross said, again taking a great deal of time with his words, being careful to enunciate meticulously and give each word its full  measure, “you are legally able to sign this document.  Please look it over.  I will be happy to answer any questions you may have about it.”  He put the paper in front of Tami, to the side of her tray.

        Tami forced herself to turn her head to look at the paper.  Her eyes could not focus.  She could make out the beginning, “I, Tami Smithers . . .”  The second paragraph began, “I understand that . . .”  Somewhere she saw the word “nudity”.  Somewhere else she could make out the word “sexual”.  The rest was a total blur.  As she tried to read her moans continued.  “Ohhhhhhh . . . ohhhhhhh . . .”

        “Is this suitable?” Henry Ross asked.

        “Uhhhhhhhhh. . . ohhhhhhhhhhh. . .”  Tami could not answer.

        “If suitable, you can sign right here,” Henry Ross said, pointing to the line at the bottom and putting a pen between Tami’s clenched hands.

        I’VE GOT TO GET HIM OUT OF HERE!!!  That one thought, at least, was clear in Tami’s fogged mind.  Sign the damn thing so he’ll go!  She grabbed the pen and signed next to where Ross was pointing.  It was the shakiest, quickest signature she ever did and then she slammed the pen down on the table.  “Ohhhhh . . . shit!  There!!” she said under her breath in frustration.  She shook her head wildly to release some of the energy, her voice surging through clenched teeth.  “J - j - j -j - j . . .”  Her damp hair flew in all directions.  It was so sweaty that a couple of drops flew away to the side.

        Ross took the signed paper and showed it to Jeffrey.  “If you please, you could be the witness.  Sign here. . . Ah, Mr. Dillon?”

        Jeffrey, transfixed by the complexities of Tami’s expressions, jerked himself into alertness and took the paper.  He read it carefully.  Tami dimly sensed this and wanted him to hurry and sign the damn thing and give it to Ross.  The strain of resisting orgasm was intense.  She continued breathing with her voice through clenched teeth.  “Zhhhhhh . . . zhhhhhhh . . .”

        Jeffrey shrugged and said, “Looks O.K. to me.”  No big deal for someone with Tami’s beliefs, he thought.  He casually signed the witness line with a florid signature, dotting the “i” in “Dillon” with a flower.  Ross suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

        Folding the paper back into his coat, Ross said, “I’ll send you a copy, Miss Smithers.  Ah, I have also been speaking to Professor Congi.  She was very impressed with the response to the recent, ah, workshop and would like you to assist her in future workshops . . .”  He cleared his throat again.  “For some time she has wanted to give a, ah, demonstrative lecture on, ah, sexuality, but that has not been possible.  She noted your, ah, state of mind during the workshop and was concerned that you were being, ah, made uncomfortable.  In light of what I now see about the, ah, habits of your religion today, obviously I will recommend that her longstanding proposal be, ah, re-evaluated.  She may be calling you on these matters.”

        Tami didn’t hear any of this.  Her head was bowed down.  Sweat fell off her forehead.  She stopped gripping the edge of the table and her hands formed fists which pounded down on the table and stayed there.  She seemed as if she were trying to push herself up with her hands, but Jen kept her pinned down.  Her arms were shaking, the muscles and tendons standing out like taught cords.  “Ohhhh . . . ohhhhh . . .”

        When she pounded down with her fists, the glasses and plates on the table clattered.  The other students in the dining hall, all of whom were some distance away, had noticed the old guy coming in to talk with Naked Tami and then forgotten about it.  But now the noise of Tami’s fists drew the attention of some of them.  Was Tami angry at this guy?

        Jen began pulling Tami’s clitoris out to his fullest length, sucking it, biting it and twisting it around her teeth and tongue, faster and faster, faster and faster, giving it the most vigorous workout she could . . .