Eugene Smithers stood on the other
side of the Dean’s door, his ear pressed to the cool, smooth wood. Had Kent mentioned his name? It hadn’t
sounded like it, but he could never be sure.
He couldn’t have that little twerp, or his father screwing things up for
him. He had worked too hard to get to
where he was, and now that he was in a position of power there was no way he
was going to lose it.
After the call had ended he stepped
away from the door, and headed to his desk.
Dean Stanton wouldn’t need him for a while longer. He would be too busy trying to keep calm and
think of a plan. Eugene, on the other
hand, already had one.
He needed to deal with Kent
directly.
The drive to the Dean’s house gave
him time to think, and more importantly, to remember. Finding out about Kent and his sick little
mind had been a near perfect accident.
Finding out about the Dean and his fucked up relationship with his son
had been even better. All it took was a
few well-taken photographs and a video to get Kent to play along with Eugene’s
little plan.
When Eugene had first started
working for the Dean, he had sensed that there was something in him, something
twisted. It had probably been what had
drawn the two of them together. Both of
them loved control, and in their positions at the school, they had the ultimate
control over the students. Luckily, Kent
yearned to be controlled, and Eugene had been more than happy to oblige.
Eugene bit his lip as he remembered
the first time he had dominated Kent. It
had been three months after he had started working for his father. They had been at a different school then, in
a different town. Kent, outwardly, was a
normal college student. He had been popular,
with plenty of friends. Hell, he had
even been on the football team. At home,
though, away from the public, Kent was a wimp.
It had all come together so easily.
Eugene had secretly placed a camera in Kent’s room weeks before, and
when those fateful pictures had downloaded onto his laptop, he had his in.
Those pictures, of Eugene, his face
a mixture of agony and ecstasy, belly down on his bed. A large, powerful body lay on top of him,
face hidden. Both figures were naked and
sweaty, their skin flush with passion. Then
the second picture had loaded. The figure on top of Kent, riding him like there
was no tomorrow, had looked up.
Dean Luther Stanton, eyes closed, a
face a gasp of rapture, was revealed.
That had been his in. He could have used the photos to blackmail
the Dean, but Kent seemed like he would be more fun. The boy took one look at
those photos and had instantly given into everything Eugene had demanded.
That meant that there would be no
problem now in getting Kent to play along with his little plan.
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