For the first time ever, I sat in one of the seats in the demo room — on both other occasions I'd been in the room, I'd had a special task to perform that had kept me standing throughout the event. I smiled, thinking how lucky I was to be sitting down this time. I'd only been able to start sitting again a few days ago. The bruises on my butt had faded at last. Maverick was beside me, holding my hand, his shoulder rubbing mine. I didn't feel any particular tenseness in Maverick's grip — as recently as a week ago he'd inevitably displayed internal stress when surrounded by other students, as he concentrated consciously on throttling his previous instincts to belittle and humiliate them, and I found it a sign of progress that he seemed relaxed now.
The other members of the First Year class were assembling around us. A last couple of stragglers were taking their seats facing the empty area where Sumner was hanged a month ago.
Brian finished checking off the last name on his list, and nodded to Gil, who stepped into the center of the room and cleared his throat. In a few seconds the babble of students died to a murmur and then silence. Everybody listened as Gil started speaking, referring to notes so he wouldn't leave anything out.
"Okay, your first party is coming up on Friday, so you've got three days to prepare for it. The First Year class is big enough that only half of you will be needed to perform host duties. The other half of you will staff the video monitors to observe the activities and behavior of the hosts. Those of you on monitor duty should keep in mind that you will have a number of different responsibilities. One, you'll be expected to protect the host you are observing, though in practice they are rarely in danger. Two, you'll write a short report later, summarizing your impressions of the host's performance." Gil smiled slightly. "We expect you to evaluate your host objectively, but if you do have some axe to grind and intend to grade your host unfairly, keep in mind there will be other people reporting on the same host, and the host can get even with you when you swap roles for the next party." There were some nervous titters at that.
Gil went on, "Three, and this is most important: you'll be expected to make your observations into a learning experience for yourself, just as the host will find himself in a valuable learning experience. As the hosts learn by doing, those of you on monitor duty will learn by observing.
"The hosts at this first party will be the students with the best grades in your Sexuality class. Of course, in Sex class you have only responded in writing to questions about sexual theories and hypothetical situations. The parties are going to be your opportunity to show that you can perform as well in practice as you do on paper.
"Those of you who are hosts: You have until Friday evening to get yourself ready for the party. I understand some of you have already scheduled appointments at the hair salon, and as usual there's been a rush on the cologne counter at the student store. Once you get your hair done and pick up your party outfits, I want you to stop by my room, in costume, so I can clear you for the party. All of our party costumes are sexy, but of course, not every costume is necessarily appropriate for every hairstyle or body type. Once Brian or I give you clearance, you're good to go.
"Those of you serving as monitors should take the time over the next few days to familiarize yourself with the equipment. We don't like hearing while the party is in progress that you're having a hard time following your host partner with the camera, or can't hear what your host or any guest with him is saying. The time to be figuring out how to do all that is now.
"As you probably know, Sequoia Turner will be the student hanged at the party." Gil paused and looked around, seeing several solemn nods. "His roommate Garrett will be on monitor duty, but will be excused for the last hour to keep Sequoia company, and one of the Second Year students will fill in for him on the monitor. I know all of you will take some time in the next few days to say goodbye to Sequoia and give him some encouragement."
Everyone could see Sequoia, a gemsbok sitting in the second row of seats. He managed to look unthreatening and very attractive, even with his rearward-pointing horns and slightly bovine musculature. I knew how hard he'd exercised to get the trim body shape he sported. Garrett, a tall giraffe, sat beside him, holding his hand. The boy on the other side of Sequoia patted his arm, and Sequoia smiled at him in return.
"Okay, now pay attention while I read out your assignments..."
I wasn't surprised to hear that both Maverick and I would be on host duty. Zuchter, a gray-furred stallion I knew vaguely, would be my monitor, watching and listening electronically as I mingled with the guests and eventually took several to bed. I felt a thrill of anticipation as I visualized meeting some new people and getting to know them briefly — and trying to read them, the way Marshall could. In Sex class, sensitivity to a guest's inner desires was indeed one of the topics, but it was understood that a special knack, such as Marshall had, was needed to become truly proficient at it.
I brought my mind back to the present, as Gil was reminding the boys about handing out their private-party chits. "You'll start out with three of them. As soon as a guest asks you to go private with him or her, give the guest one of your chits so the guest can use it to purchase a ticket. We call that validating the chit. Then you lead the guest back to your assigned room, or he or she might meet you there. After your one-hour session with the guest, come back to the main party hall and mingle again. We know from long experience how many guests to expect, and most likely all of you will have at least two private parties. If you give out all three of your chits, tell any other guest who hits on you, very politely, that you've finished for the night. Don't worry about any guest getting mad — they have to behave or they'll lose their membership. And they've generally been to enough parties that they understand anyway."
Tarrant, an oryx I'd seen in hanging class a few times, asked in a puzzled voice, "Membership?" I blinked at the question, and was prepared when I felt Maverick's sudden tight squeeze of my hand. There were a few muted snickers I could hear around the room, but no sound from Maverick, nor any sign that Maverick was incensed at a question no student would ask if he had read the student handbook in detail. Jack's head suddenly swiveled toward Maverick, watching, as he had lately, for any sign of the old Maverick returning.
Gil answered patiently, "Attendance at the parties is restricted to members of the Hanging Academy Support Society, who have paid thousands of dollars for their membership, and that just gets them the right to purchase a ticket to come to the party — and a ticket costs another thousand, so not all the members are going to come to every party. Validating a private party chit costs nearly a thousand dollars as well, so you can feel very proud that one of the guests wants to spend time with you. Some, of course, will only be there to watch Sequoia hang."
Lucas said, "I guess membership is still cheaper than buying your own Hanging Boy, right? I was just thinking members kind of have a better deal than people who buy their own boy. They get to watch a lot of hangings, not just one, though the boys they see aren't fully-trained graduates, and they don't get to keep their fur."
Gil held up his hands. "Oh! I see what you're thinking. They didn't feel a need to make this point in the handbook, but anybody who buys a Hanging Boy also gets an automatic membership in the Society. So it really is a better deal to buy a boy..."
A roaring sound in my ears drowned out the rest of Gil's answer, and I clenched Maverick's hand so convulsively that he gasped in pain. I slowly became aware that Maverick was stroking my arm, with a worried look on his face, whispering, "Wynn? What's wrong? What happened?"
Feeling out of breath as if I'd just finished a practice hanging, almost shaking with my pounding heart, I whispered back, "Later. I'll tell you later." Maverick nodded and covered our interlocked hands with his free one, the first time I had experienced Maverick trying to calm me down rather than the reverse. A few more heads turned in my direction now, watching for a moment before turning back to Gil.
Safely back in our room, Maverick closed the door and looked back at me. "Okay, what's going on? You're still whiter than your uniform."
I sank down on our shared bed, and wrapped myself with my arms, shivering. "I just... didn't know. My brother is a member. He can come to the parties." Since Marshall had been, technically, bought by Andrew, though with Father's money, Andrew would automatically have a membership in the Support Society.
Maverick blinked. "You've got a brother? I didn't know that."
I rolled my eyes. "Well, it's not like it's my favorite subject to talk about." I squeezed my eyes shut. "He never mentioned being a member. Well, we didn't used to talk much anyway, and by the time he might have said something..." I held myself more tightly and shuddered. "...he... he knew I was going to come here. I know... I know why he didn't tell me."
Maverick came over to the bed and sat beside me, putting his arms around me. I began relaxing a little, and let Maverick gently pull my head towards him until my head rested on his shoulder. Usually I couldn't be held by Maverick without being aroused, but now I let myself sink into soothing warmth with no thoughts of sex. Maverick asked softly, "Okay, why didn't he tell you?"
I sighed deeply. "How long till class?"
"Couple of hours."
"Okay. Maybe that'll be enough time."
I began talking. About Andrew. About the years of contempt and insults. About the sudden change in Andrew's behavior towards me when I'd treated myself to a makeover while preparing for my interview at the Academy. About the way he'd started looking at me then, as if seeing me for the first time as more than a competitor for Dad's affection and money. About his frustration at having the object of his sudden desire so close to him but so out of reach. About his plans to capture me as his slave, for sex, for breeding, for amusement as he kept me locked away in chains in a secret underground bunker.
I was safe in the Academy, I knew. Andrew couldn't get me out. The only part of the student area he could get into was the party pavilion, which only had two entrances, both guarded — one from the secured student area into which no guest could pass, the other from the public area, through which no student would be allowed. But if he rented me... I'd have to give him what he asked for. I'd felt so sure I was away from all that. My lunch was trying to leave my stomach.
After listening to it all intently, Maverick finally spoke. "Give me a signal, if you see him. I'll try to head him off. I'll put on all my charm." He grinned. "You haven't seen me when I really turn it on. And while I'm talking to him, try to give out all your chits really quick. Even if I can't hook him into a private session, I can delay him long enough. And he won't even suspect anything. We can do it at every party."
I sighed and put my arms around Maverick. "Thank you so much. I'd rather have something sharp to throw at him, but if you'll throw yourself at him, that will help me out a lot."
"I can be pretty sharp sometimes."
"You've done a lot to smooth off some of the rough edges." I kissed Maverick's neck softly. "And thank you again." I felt my sense of hopelessness beginning to evaporate. I realized that a major part of the atmosphere of the last months of my home life had been caused not just by Andrew's existence, but the complete absence of any help in dealing with him. Now I had help.
I began stroking Maverick's back softly, reaching to pull my shirt up as he kissed my neck. I said huskily, "About an hour left?"
Maverick, breathing more deeply, his lips parted, nodded, reaching down to pull off his shirt. "Never long enough."
I kissed his lips at last, reaching down to unzip his shorts, whispering, "It'll do."
"Yes, it'll do." He unzipped me and pulled my shorts and briefs down. I stepped out of them.
"Now that your sexy butt isn't sore any more, I want something special. Lie down."
I lay down on my side.
"Mmm.... ummm. Face up. Please?"
I turned over on my back.
Maverick climbed on top of me and kissed me. His lips were soft, sensual, loving. He slid down and started kissing my nipples. I started to shift position so I could reverse under him, but he said, "No, please. Just lie there, with your hands at your sides. OK?"
"OK," I said.
He worked on my nipples for a good time. I was panting, dripping, screaming in pleasure. Then he slid down further and wrapped his mouth around me.
It was even better than I thought it would be. Not only was a hot, wet mouth better than my hand, but this was Maverick. The person I desired more than any other in the world, except Scott. And I would probably never see Scott again. Yes. Yes. Yes!!! I was hot. So hot! Maverick moved slowly at first, but he sensed my need and sped up. I didn't last very long — Maverick obviously had experience at this. His lips slid up and down my shaft while his tongue flicked my most sensitive spot. He seemed to know exactly where I was most sensitive and how fast to move at every moment. The orgasm left me out of breath and shaking, and I suspect they heard my pleasure-scream over in the third-year dorms.
I played with him while I got my breath back. I ran my hands up and down his furry body, and all over his furry butt. I kissed his mouth, his ears. I toyed with his tail and the fur where his chest and belly met. At last I managed to stop shaking and breathe normally — well, anyway, as normally as someone in a sexual frenzy can.
"My turn," I said firmly, "Sit up on the edge."
He did.
"Now, imagine that you're watching me hang, the noose digging into my neck, my legs kicking, knowing that I have only minutes to live, if that." I waited a few minutes, my hands toying idly with his cock and his butt, while he pictured this in his mind. Then I knelt on the carpet and started sucking on him. I'd made him just as hot as he made me. I didn't have his unerring sense of where and how fast, but I learned as I went along, adjusting the amount of suction, moving slowly at first, then faster as his breathing told me I was getting it right. At last I just used suction to apply as much pressure as I could while my tongue rolled around the area between his head and shaft. A couple of minutes and he shouted my name as I swallowed his hot sperm.