Chapter 3

  The next morning, a knock woke me.
  I went to sleep pretty late pondering Melisa's actions, mostly
fantasizing what it would have felt like to be inside her. I knew
she tested me, or at least my self-control. She offered herself,
but only a part as if to say 'Tonight, but no night after!'
  I did not know what my options were but I wanted more than one
night.
  I looked up hoping my roommate was going to answer the door,
but he rolled over to face the wall.
  "Damn," I exhaled.
  I got up slowly hoping the person would go away, but she did
not. I knew it was Melisa. There was little pleasure in finding
out I was learning my steps in their dance. I opened the door
slowly.
  She was looking bright and beautiful, even early in the
morning.
  "Hi," she said holding up a bag from which I could smell the
sweet scent of flavored coffee.
  "Breakfast," she continued, smiling at me. The innocence had
made a comeback in her demeanor and clothing; no nice shorts and
no tight t-shirt.
  The smile changed to a feminine teasing 'I know what you're
thinking' smile. I was seeing that smile too much; it was
disconcerting to have Melisa read me so easily. She seemed to
know how I would react to different situations.
  "No classes today," she said half-brushing, half-pushing by me
into the room. It was not an unpleasant experience. I turned and
the knowing smile was on her face again.
  I sighed.
  I watched as she put the bag with the wonderful coffee smell on
my desk. Blue jeans and a thick, white button-down shirt were not
a bad substitute for shorts and t-shirt I thought to myself while
trying to figure what she might have scheduled for me that
required getting up early. I gave up with a quick shake of my
head. I was perfectly capable of figuring out the steps while she
was executing them; I could not hear the music we were dancing to
though.
  For now, I had to let Melisa lead.
  "You have a very important appointment today," she told me
opening my closet.
  "Oh, really," I smirked at her, half in question.
  She turned and smiled with a slight tease to her lips. She took
a step half into the closet to move hangers back and forth,
looking for something appropriate. Her tone of voice suggested
that my appointment with Professor Ryan was actually an
interview.
  "That 'interview' isn't until 3 pm," I told her pointedly.
"It's only 8 am, Melisa."
  I got into bed and lay on my stomach. I put my chin on my
folded arms and watched her.
  Watched her ass mostly.
  Melisa was 5 inches shorter than me and had an extremely nice
ass. The jeans did not hug her curves, they just showed where
curves began and traced their routes gently.
  "Yeah, but you have to shower and shave. Grab breakfast," she
answered pulling out a white shirt from the closet that almost
exactly matched hers. She put it against her chest and looked
down. I smiled, sure if she and I became a combination wherever
they were taking me, I would only be wearing that shirt enough to
keep it broken in the way she liked.
  "I thought the bag was breakfast," I said, looking at the bag
on my desk.
  "Nope, just coffee."
  She put the shirt back in the closet but away from everything
else. She sorted through my clothes again; it looked like she was
ordering things by what she would and would not wear.
  I sighed to myself.
  "So I'm to shower, shave, go to breakfast and then what?" I
asked sitting up looking for my towel.
  "Work," she said withdrawing a pair of informal tan slacks from
the closet. I guessed the interview would also be informal.
  "How do you know so much about my schedule?" I asked
forcefully. She was in most of my classes so I expected her to
know that but even with Melisa, I avoided talking about myself.
  "Tsk, Tsk" she said, bending down to pick up the towel at the
bottom of the closet. Another reason I liked jeans that fit the
way these did, they hugged her butt a little bit more with any
movement in that area of her body. She looked at the towel and
tossed it back in the closet. She jumped up to pull a different
one down from the top shelf. She tossed it in my general
direction and returned to searching for a suitable shirt. I
guessed explanations were going to be Professor Ryan's
department. I walked over to my desk and picked up the small
bucket containing my toiletries. I opened the bag, and took the
coffee out to take a quick sip. I hoped that it was black because
she figured better to let me add to it if I liked it differently,
but somehow I doubted it.
  Melisa probably knew what my favorite everything was.
  I walked out of the room, making sure not to stomp, part of
whatever this was, or at least her part was about my attitude to
the situation. While blonde hair and green eyes was waking me up
in the morning, I could deal with it, or at least better than if
Professor Ryan had wake up duty.
  I let some of my temper drain out with the cold shower. When I
entered my room, Melisa was sitting on my bed, next to the layout
of clothes she wanted me to wear. I stared at her while taking
another sip of coffee to give her the opportunity to look away.
  I wanted her to look away. All that having her watch me change
would accomplish was turn me on again.
  She smiled, refusing to take the hint.
  I sighed.
  I have never been sure how attraction for a woman works. I only
got as far as if she expressed a like, it was generally safe to
go in that direction, the opposite for a dislike. Melisa seemed
willing and desirous of watching me undress. There was no reason
to refuse her, and maybe the favor of frustration that she had
done me could be returned.
  I took the towel around my waist off giving her my back at the
same time. I took my time drying.
  After a couple minutes on my hair, I faced her, still using the
towel to dry my hair. Her eyes riveted to my crotch; I got harder
and harder under the pressure of her stare. I dried the rest of
my body as her eyes traveled and absorbed different parts of me.
  The military tried to put its stamp on my body; large torso for
power with long muscular legs shaped for distance. Unfortunately,
I was too short for the long part and they had to settle for
muscular. I was utilitarian in my workouts; martial arts classes
supplemented by thrice weekly weight work. I was abnormally
strong so I worked nearly a hundred pounds higher than most men
with my weight regimen and size. I was toned, and had the natural
width to show it well.
  Melisa did not hide her appreciation.
  I finished drying and leaned back on the desk. I picked up my
coffee and studied her. I wanted to see how much would be enough
for her. After my hard-on ached in its insistence for more than
being looked at, I decided to get dressed. Melisa had an
incredible gusto for looking and I was the only one suffering.
She watched as I put on deodorant and got dressed. She sighed
almost forlornly as the last button on my shirt was buttoned.
  Maybe I was not the only one that suffered.
  We walked to the student cafeteria for breakfast. I grabbed a
quick, healthy breakfast and found us an isolated place to sit.
  We ate quietly.
  After we finished, I looked at the clock. It was only 9:30 am,
an hour before my computer lab shift. I sat back and stared at
Melisa.
  "Last night's," I searched for a proper word, "incident is
going to be talked about. My roommate is in one of the frats that
popularized your nickname. They also spread the rumor that you
and Doris Alex are 'involved'."
  "The school is too big for it to affect me," she replied
calmly. "Anyone that matters to me and the assholes will know
whose bed it was in."
  "What difference does who's bed it was in make?" I asked.
  "The bus," she replied in a voice that said I should have known
that.
  There had been an incident the last semester; three guys
harassing two girls on a bus. One of the girls got slapped, so I
slapped the dickhead with the happy hand. It did not sit well
with any of them.
  In a closed space, it was not much of a fight.
  "The big assholes know there will be a confrontation if they
talk too much. The girl he slapped was one of our pledges. My
sorority sisters know who you are. Do you know how many times
I've told one of my sisters 'Yes, I would mind if you went after
him'?" she continued.
  "It wasn't much of a fight," I said looking around. I took her
question to be rhetorical.
  "They were drunk and in a confined space, everything was to my
advantage."
  "Modest, too," she replied with a tiny feminine smile.
  I was not though.
  Trouble rode shotgun to a reputation. I did not need to deal
with assholes that wanted to prove their manhood; I was too
well-trained. Outnumbered, I hurt two of the three guys bad and
only their non-student status saved me from arrest. Pressing
charges against me would have put the city in a bad light when a
busload of witnesses stepped forward to testify the three thugs
were assaulting a co-ed when I got involved. Too many businesses
depended on the school for the incident not to be smoothed over.
  Hospitalizing a drunken frat boy, even in self-defense, would
have different results.
  "No one I care about will say anything, David," she said
seriously. "We've hung out a lot together. They'll think either
it's been going on for a while or that I finally decided I didn't
want to be 'just friends' anymore. Even if my sisters wouldn't
defend YOU, they won't allow a sister's love life to be someone
else's entertainment."
  She turned her green eyes on me.
  Her sorority was the most influential organization in the
school. They had the full support of their status equal brother
fraternity. Combined with deep ties to the administration and
community, Melisa's sorority did not have to take kindly to open
attacks on a sister. My roommate's frat would back off at the
first sign of backlash; the least of which would be the
University Police raiding every party looking for underage
drinkers.
  I smiled at her.
  We talked about our schedules for the next school year until I
had to leave. She walked me to the lab and told me not to be late
to my appointment with Professor Ryan. She placed a quick kiss on
the base of my neck before walking away. I stared in the
direction she left for a good while before going inside.
  I left the lab at 2:30pm and visited the student center for a
bite to eat before heading to Professor Ryan's office. Rachel was
sitting in front of the pizza stand; she said hello as I passed
by. She was someone I wanted from my first day at college. She
never gave a hint she held the beginning of a belief that I was
male in her pretty blonde head though. Unfortunately, every time
I thought I stopped wanting her, I saw her and realized 'Nope,
still want her just as badly, maybe more.'
  I did not sit to talk to her. I said hello, got a slice and
left. I was reduced to that with Rachel; smile, say hello, and
walk away.
  I ate on my way to the English department and worked my way to
Professor Ryan's office. His door was wide open; I smiled widely
as I walked in. He was sitting in his chair facing the door.
  "Hello, David," he said. "How are you doing today?"
  "I think I'm okay," I replied sitting down at the chair across
from him.
  He watched me for a few seconds, I watched him back. I did not
know what was going on so silence was the best policy.
  "Any questions?" he asked me with a voice bordering on the
smug.
  I stared at him. The foster homes taught me how to be quiet and
wait. I waited for years at times, and I could wait for whatever
was about to happen.
  He took the ring off and tossed it to me.
  "Go ahead," he told me.
  He watched as I studied it carefully.
  The band was not gold like Melisa's; platinum, I guessed, not
shiny enough to be silver. The stone was black like an onyx but I
did not know rocks well enough to determine if it was. It was a
much simpler band, without the etchings on Melisa's ring. The
crest on the stone was exceptional. The beauty and detail of the
artistry was evident even from a cursory study. I tried to
inspect the crest deeply but I could not quite get to where the
detail ended. Crest might have been the wrong word; it was more a
painting of a gold dragon bathed in red flame. I could not tell
if the dragon was reveling in the heat or being consumed.
  I stood up, walked to Professor Ryan and handed the ring back.
  I sat down, and looked at him. I wanted to know what it was all
about but we were still dancing. I put it on them to take every
first step.
  "The rings, mine and Melisa's, are the keys, David," he said,
his eyes growing quiet.
  "Let me tell you a story," he continued, "Then you tell me if
you believe it or not."
  "A movement began in ancient Greece, arising from philosophical
teachings. Plato wrote about them in his books; the elite. Some
men are the center of society driving progress. Society works
constantly against them, to hold them down, to protect itself
against them."
  He stood up to pull down an Ayn Rand book from his shelf. He
tossed it at me. I looked at the cover and smiled.
  "The mediocre naturally seek to destroy the elite among them,"
I said tossing the book back. It was not everything the book was
about but that part stuck with me.
  "Yes, that's how the movement ended," he said staring at the
book.
  "The masses destroyed the few that banded together, erasing any
mention of them," he smiled to himself.
  "The movement did not die though, it went underground. Several
purges later, the movement's fundamental values changed. Secrecy
and survival became more important than power. The profile of the
members altered to people that sought to build a network,
allowing them to live as they defined life. They sought to ensure
their heirs would enjoy the same privilege. A more focused and
easier goal to hide from the mediocre."
  "An offensive term, don't you think?" I asked. I never thought
most people were mediocre, just victims of their ancestors'
successes and the loss of new worlds to conquer. At worst, I
thought most people were lazy.
  "A lot of people find comfort in conformity," he replied
seriously. "A girl gets slapped on a bus and only one man stands
up. What would you call that man?"
  "A fairy tale, like your story," I said smirking.
  He smirked back.
  "Yes, we think that's how the Brotherhood started. We're
confident of the dating around Plato and Aristotle's time, but
we're not sure about the rest. The Brotherhood destroyed its own
history during some purges to ensure surviving members could not
be tracked by rebuilding the past."
  "And now?"
  "And now what?" he asked me back.
  "Melisa's ring is not about living life the way you want to
live it." I replied.
  "It isn't?" he asked. "The words are different but the focus is
the same, David. Freedom from the pluralist definition of
existence."
  Those were big words but still just words. I waited trying to
piece together the incomplete picture he was giving me.
  "I'm not one of our historians," he continued. "How about if I
do it this way though?"
  "Fairy tale or truth?" he asked. "Today there is a Brotherhood
of twenty thousand members. Two thousand are what the civilized
world would call Dominants. We prefer Brothers. The rest of the
membership is made up of Submissives, or using our term
Siblings."
  "The rings?" I asked.
  "There are two kinds of rings. A white ring like Melisa wears
is a Sibling ring; the black, a Brother's ring. If a white ring
has a crest on it, it means the Sibling has been accepted as the
sole responsibility of a specific Brother."
  "And the relationship between Siblings and Brothers?" I asked
him.
  "Difficult if not impossible to explain," he replied
hesitating. "Only a Sibling can tell you why they wear a ring.
The relationships they accept vary from Sibling to Sibling. Let
me ask you, most people find the words dominant and submissive to
be useful, but what did you think of the Sibling's performance
the other day?"
  I stopped and thought about Doris Alex's act of pleasure.
  "Heinlein's character in 'Stranger in a Strange Land' made
women faint from kissing them," I said hesitantly. "One of the
female characters said that it was because when he kissed, he
wasn't thinking of anything else, not even of kissing her. His
entire being centered on physical act of kissing the woman, a
type of focus too intense for her to handle. That's what I
thought about Dor... the Sibling. She wasn't thinking about
anything; technique, your pleasure, if she was enjoying it or
not. She looked as if her existence was your pleasure."
  "That's not really submissive as defined by the general
population," he told me. "Don't get me wrong, Doris is
exceptional. Other Siblings have a different set of expectations
when they desire contact with a Brother."
  "Nothing universal?" I asked him.
  "Very few will reject a Brother. They may not offer more than
physical pleasure but an outright rejection of any contact is
nearly unheard of."
  I raised my eyebrows questioningly.
  "The only ones I know of occur when a Sibling's crested ring is
destroyed accidentally and she is wearing a plain one. In those
situations, a Brother may not know she is unavailable."
  "Why two thousand and eighteen thousand?" I asked.
  "The maximum number of Brothers is set," he replied, "It
probably will not change until the world hits a population over
10 billion. I believe, historically, the most we've ever had is
nineteen hundred but that was before the McCarthy Purge. The
number of Siblings fluctuates greatly, and is much larger than
Brothers because their screening is not as rigorous."
  "Screening?"
  "You were thoroughly studied before your attention was focused
on the rings."
  "How did you manage that?" I asked, knowing I was not going to
like the answer. He unlocked one of the drawers in his desk,
pulled a folder out and pointed it at me before putting it down
on his desk.
  "David Feather," he recited. "Left at the doorstep of a
Catholic Church. Worked your way through the foster care system
until you graduated high school. The foster care records all say
the same thing; a loner, intelligent, does not get into trouble,
but can't be pushed. You joined the military as soon as social
services set you loose. They spent a great deal of money training
you for tasks not spoken of in polite society. They wanted to
keep you but a young inexperienced officer wanted to make a bad
decision in a place that did not forgive them. You didn't kill
him but your superiors chose not to thank you for ONLY
embarrassing the son of a multi-star general.
  "It makes good reading if one is smart enough to read between
the lines" he told me. "Your type of personality does not usually
develop from a social services program that doesn't work
properly. Every step of the way, you've made good decisions, or
made your decisions good ones. There are a lot of things in this
report worthy of a second look."
  I watched him now. I was right; I did not like the answer.
  "Don't feel too bad," he told me waving a hand at me
depreciatingly. "We've actually been watching you for a long
time. You ran across a Sibling in grammar school. She suggested
that you be adopted, but few Brother's homes are a family
environment for someone not born to the Brotherhood. On the other
hand, putting young Brother candidates in a Sibling home creates
the obvious problems of control. We had to let watching you
suffice, and hope that you were not damaged by our inaction."
  "Do all candidates get this much attention?" I asked pointedly.
  "Nearly all candidates get more, David," he replied simply.
"You were easy; we only had to keep tabs on you. Social services
and the military did most of our work. We just needed to get
access to the records and reports. Usually we spend an intense
two years making sure a candidate will not be a disappointment to
other Brothers or harmful to Siblings. If a Brother candidate is
born to the Brotherhood, it requires even more time to decide. In
those cases, we have to distinguish between reality and a good
mimic."
  "So you kept tabs on me and that decided you?"
  "There was also the psych evaluation you took last year."
  I sighed, remembering.
  A marketing agency offered me good money for a psych eval. They
were 'attempting' to find better ways to market to my age group.
I took so many of the damn things in the military, I knew most of
the questions before the head doctor asked them. It did not take
a whole lot for the attractive blonde to get me to sign up. The
psychiatrist was also blonde and attractive. There was something
about her that made me comfortable, almost like there had been a
slight flirtation between us. She called back several times
during the next couple of months to get me back in the chair. I
was well paid for each visit so I did not give the situation much
thought, other than wondering what kind of lingerie the
psychiatrist wore.
  I was sure about the thong and had guessed no bra. Lamentably,
she deflected all of my advances.
  The door opened.
  Melisa walked in wearing a short white summer dress, white
sandals and her hair down. She smiled at us taking the last seat
in the room.
  She stared at me. I liked the change in outfit so was happy to
stare back.
  "So what now?" I asked keeping my eyes on Melisa.
  "The Brotherhood is extending an invitation; accept a Brother's
Ring, David."
  "And the last few days were temptation," I said.
  "I like to think of myself as temptation," Melisa spoke before
Professor Ryan could, "but I don't believe you can be tempted. An
intelligent decision requires the right information though."
  I nodded. "Knowledge, David, not temptation. We wanted you to
know what you would be turning down if you denied yourself the
ring," she continued.
  "You?" I asked.
  "Yes," she said with sincerity. "Doris, Janet the pledge you
defended on the bus is also a Sibling and believe me she has been
scratching the walls to... anyway every uncrested Sibling."
  "Freedom," Professor Ryan said.
  He looked at me for a while before he continued, "I think you
would be in school much longer and teach if you did not have to
worry about other things like money."
  "Knowledge," Melisa whispered.
  I looked at her.
  "You didn't say all the information," I told her.
  "No Brother has all the information, David," Professor Ryan
said with finality. "Accepting a ring gives you a right to more,
but never all. You will have access to the resources necessary to
do what you want to instead of what you have to, though."
  "I like to earn my way," I replied.
  "You did, David," Melisa said to me. "You will."
  Professor Ryan laughed.
  "Anything we give you, you earned by becoming someone we want
as part of our Brotherhood," he said. "I'm sure you'll put back
ten times whatever you use. As much as we tell new Brothers they
don't owe us anything, we seem choose ones that pay it back
anyway. There may also be other things you can do for the
Brotherhood, later."
  I spent a minute looking at each of them alternately. They
stared back knowing what my answer would be. It is rare that the
spider offers to make something trapped in the web another
spider.
  "So all I do is say yes?" I asked.
  Melisa beamed at me.
  Professor Ryan shook his head.
  "Seven Brothers have to interview you. They must make a
unanimous decision to accept you."
  I raised my eyebrows at him.
  "I don't remember anyone failing at the interview or training
level."
  "Failing? Training?" I interrupted questioningly.
  "Yes, we would not turn you loose on close to eighteen thousand
people who believe a black ring means you have a right to their
body upon command. Some Siblings will believe you are a
foundation," Professor Ryan said weighing me with his eyes.
  "What do you mean foundation?" I asked him.
  "Siblings do not just wear a white ring because they have an
instinctive desire to be submissive," he replied.
  "It's a trade-off for most of us, David," Melisa continued for
him. "The Brothers are something we can believe in; something we
can build out from. A family with more connections. An escape
from the real world. There are a lot of different reasons, we
like having the Brothers in our lives. For a lot of us, the only
price is sex with the kind of lovers we would accept anyway. Even
that can be rare, I know plenty of Siblings that have to actively
seek contact with a Brother."
  Melisa's eyes were boring into me.
  "They give us everything we need. The only obligation, and even
then we have a choice, is for something most of us would gladly
do with them anyway. Most Siblings are happy the Brothers go
through so much trouble to sort themselves out from everybody
else for us."
  Professor Ryan stared at Melisa.
  She blushed attractively but her chin went up in an almost
challenge.
  "So you don't want me turned loose on eighteen thousand people
who would instinctively trust me without being sure I'm worthy of
that trust," I said hesitating to think about what Melisa's
expectations of me might be. "What does the training concern?"
  "That's between you and your trainer," he told me with a smirk.
  Melisa grinned widely and a touch of smugness crept into the
grin. I could not help myself; I had to give her a silly grin of
my own.
  I turned back to Professor Ryan.
  "A Sibling?" I asked.
  "Of course," he replied. "Using the vocabulary of the civilized
world, would you let a submissive train another submissive."
  "No," I said immediately.
  "Why not?" he asked.
  I had not really thought about it but worked it through in
words.
  "The things that felt good to Doris Alex were the things that
felt good to you. She got off on doing that to and for you. So
much of her pleasure is mental in those situations; she has to
know being in that dominant position over her is giving you as
much pleasure as being submissive gives her. There would be a
mental disconnect with a sub-to-sub situation. Everything would
be different the first time she was with a Brother, for HER."
  "So?" Dr Ryan urged.
  I nodded to myself as I thought about it.
  "It wouldn't make any sense to have a Brother train another.
Most of the time would be spent fighting for control, if not
dominance. It's also important to go through that first transfer
of power when the Brother takes over the relationship if a
Sibling does the training. A Brother candidate would have to
learn how to read a Sibling's wants, needs and how she wants him
to take control. Again, you might as well get him started right
away with a Sibling he trusts."
  I turned to look at Melisa.
  "So you're my trainer?" I asked her.
  "We prefer First Sibling," she replied.
  I got up, and stared at a corner of the room.
  "When are the interviews?" I asked.
  "Three tomorrow, and four on Sunday," Professor Ryan said.
  "Where?"
  "The Ramada," he said. "Melisa will guide you through it. They
start at 9 am."
  I nodded almost to myself and walked out.