The Subjugation of Rembrandt Logan Chapter 4: Heart and Humiliation

Crystal grunted, then a sigh of relief. For the second time in ten minutes she had roughly deposited a load down Rembrandt’s throat in what had become their regular lunch break routine over the remaining week, only this time she pulled out part way.

This caused the last pulses of her orgasm to spurt on his face. Whether this was intentional or not was debatable.

“What the f-”

“Wait!” Crystal interrupted with a pinch to the corner of his cum covered mouth. She pulled out her phone with her freehand and snapped a couple of pictures. “Hot!”

“Delete those!” Rembrandt shrieked forgetting his previous rage at the spontaneous facial for newfound fury.

“Mmmmake me!” Crystal teased playfully. She rubbed the scruff of Rembrandt’s hair as the significantly smaller young man struggled to reach her phone. It was simply adorable to see him jump at her in vane, face covered in cum, too distracted to care about it now. It would hit him again soon enough.

He stopped out of exhaustion and hunched over. His hand went to his forehead and he recoiled. “And what am I supposed to do about this?!”

Crystal smiled. “Wipe it off, duh! Unless you don’t mind walking around school with jizz on your face. I think the teachers might have something to say about that.”

“With what?” He snapped.

“Your sleeves? Your jacket? Figure it out, mongrel.”

Rembrandt sneered at her. “No!” He defied. “You figure it out!...Or I’m sure the teachers will have just as many questions for the person who did this to me.”

Crystal squinted at him. “You’re a real prick you know that?” She pulled down her pants and then her panties. They were pink and lacy with flower designs in the pattern. She tossed them to him. “Use this. You can keep them when you’re done.”

Rembrandt grimaced as he watched Crystal pull up her pants perfectly concealing her true nature when flaccid. He inspected the panties. They were nearly as soaked as he was in their own right from liquids of questionable origin. The smell alone indicated at least some of it wasn’t sweat.

“I can’t use these!” he said.

“Picky, picky!” Crystal teased. “You’re almost not worth the responsibility.”

“Please! Give up on me!” Rembrandt seethed.

“No, no, no.” Crystal shook her head. “The head’s too good.” She snatched him up and held him in a cradle.

“What are you doing?” he whined.

“We gotta getcha cleaned up don’t we?” Crystal grinned. “The girl’s bathroom is just down the hall.”

“No!” Rembrandt panicked. They were alone, safe in the pseudo-privacy the emergency stairwell offered. In the past few days he’d come to rely on it. The hallway was different, there were potential witnesses to the shame still on his face. “Please!”

“Relax.” Crystal said not breaking her smile. “Everyone already knows.”

The feeling of dread was palpable. Rembrandt had never felt this level of humiliation in his life, that was saying something considering what he’d escaped from. His heart would stop and start with every stray sound of the mercifully empty hallway. They were in the section of campus that rarely saw any foot traffic. That didn’t discourage the echoes of idle conversation, footsteps, and doors opening and closing from just a corner away. It was still a school and Crystal was holding him for a reason.

She knew he’d bolt for the restrooms as soon as she released her hold on him. She even held his arms tight so he wouldn’t wipe her cum off with his sleeve out of desperation, which he considered more with each wayward noise.

“Hey!” he heard in a boy’s voice. He turned his face to hide.

Crystal turned around slowly. He heard footsteps and then a metallic slam. More footsteps.

“Hurry up!” Another voice said and he felt the swoosh of wind  that made him flinch as two people ran past them.

“Someone’s jumpy!” Crystal noted with a smirk. She pried his head away from her bare shoulder where he had pressed his face. Her facial had started to dry by now so little had actually gotten on her, but she made a production of licking her tongue and wiping it off with her index finger. She then traced the residue on his lips.

He could only frown at her. “This isn’t funny!”

“I think it’s hilarious!” she beamed.

A full minute felt like an hour as Crystal dragged her feet hauling him toward the girl’s restroom. She kicked the door open and finally set him down. Thankfully it was empty. He made a b-line straight for the sink but was stopped before he could start the water.

“Please, allow me.” Crystal said.  She held him by the arm and towed him with her toward a bathroom stall. She unfurled a roll of toilet paper and dampened it in the sink.

“First.” Crystal said. She took his head and turned him toward the mirror. He barely recognized his reflection. His hair was disheveled and soiled with Crystal’s spent seed. It had dried considerably leaving him with a cowlick. His face was worse than he’d imagined. The spots that had dried left his skin speckled in off white, slightly opaque splotches. Liquid where she’d wiped her sperm dripped from his lips and his chin. He was close to breaking now. It was taking all his willpower not to lose composure. Then she took out her phone.

*CLICK*

She snapped a picture of his reflection.

“Another one for the archive!” She announced.

The door opened. Both looked to see a girl walk in. She was very thin for someone like her, with little muscle definition and taller than Crystal. She had short ginger hair and freckles. She gasped at what she saw. It must have been some sight, seeing a young man’s face covered in more semen than a porn star, hair wild and frayed, eyes red and on the verge of crying.

“Just cleaning my bitch off.” Crystal laughed. “Stalls are free.”

The girl covered her mouth and stifled something Rembrandt feared was a laugh.

“S-s-sorr-sorry!” She mumbled as she awkwardly shuffled by them. Her eyes didn’t break from the stare she had on them. Rembrandt imagined it must have been like watching a car crash, shocking but you can’t look away. “D-don’t mind me.” She went for the very last stall at the far end of the room.

That was enough. The damn of mental fortitude broke and Rembrandt started silently weeping as the tears leaked from his eyes to mix with the sticky remains of Crystal’s cock.

“You need to relax more.” Crystal comforted. She tenderly wiped some of her own cum of Rembrandt’s forehead with a dampened sheet of toilet paper.

“Someone saw me!” Rembrandt choked out as he tried to regain his composure.

“Sorry!” Came the voice of the girl from the furthest stall.

“What if she tells someone? What if-?”

“If anyone bothers you about it I’ll personally beat the shit out of them.” Crystal assured.

“Sorry!” The girl repeated over the flush of the toilet. She chose the sink two away from them to wash her hands.

Crystal ignored her to continue cleaning her handiwork off of Rembrandt’s face.

“Can you please delete the pictures?” He pleaded.

“.....No.” Crystal said evenly. There was no taunting, or cruelty in her statement. It was just a fact. She wouldn’t delete them. “I like the pictures. They’re sexy. YOU look sexy in them.” She rubbed his face and kissed his forehead that she’d just cleaned off.

Rembrandt didn’t have a response to that. He felt a twinge of hurt in himself, he couldn’t believe her.

That night Rembrandt received a message on his phone through facebook. It was a private message and friend request from a C. Hudson.

He didn’t know any C.Hudson.

He ignored it but then a picture popped up with a bird’s eye perspective of his face next to an erect cock covered in cum, a string of the pearly white substance connected the cockhead to the tip of his lips as he looked up frustrated at the photographer.

Rembrandt accepted the request out of fear.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he typed.

“Just wanted to show you this hot pick! One of my best works! <3.”

“Are you insane?!” What if people see this?”

“They’d be jealous!” Followed by a grinning winky face.

“How did you even find me!?”

“We have mutuals!”

That had to be a lie. Rembrandt only had like ten friends on his facebook. Two were his parents. One was….

“Who’s Rachielle?......Why does your relationship status say “engaged”!?”

Rembrandt panicked. He hadn’t frequented his facebook in over three months. He’d forgotten to update it, more accurately he didn’t care...until now.

He changed his status to single.

“Correct that!” C. Hudson typed.

Rembrandt gulped.

“I...can’t.” He messaged.

“Why not?!”

“I just can’t!”

“Do it or I’ll personally deliver you to Jericho tomorrow and film him excavating your backside in 4k!”

“Is this REALLY that important to you!?”

“YES! DO. IT.”

Rembrandt weighed his options. So far Crystal had spared him that indignity. As much as he hated it he could tolerate sucking her off. The alternative was unthinkable. His virginity was at stake, and it was something he was not ready to part with….but the repercussions of this?

She stalked his facebook. She would see it.

He had to take that risk.

Rembrandt Logan relationship status: It’s complicated.

“What the fuck, Remy!”

“That’s the best you get!”

He hoped that would be vague enough to avoid-.

His phone beeped with a text.

“What the fuck, Rembrandt!?”

“So this is how you’re gonna play things!?”

“I was willing to let you go through this phase of yours but you’re forcing my hand now!”

He turned off the phone.

Rembrandt wasn’t responding to her texts. He hung up on her! Again!

Rachielle Wanstone crushed her phone into fragments in her hand. She took a deep breath. Control. That was the key. Control of her temper, that’s what scared him off. Control. Control of him, because he clearly couldn’t be held responsible of his own well being!

“It’s complicated.”

Bullshit it was! If he was out there cheating on her because of the break SHE allowed him to have she would CRUSH whoever dared to seduce him under the weight of her diamond heeled Saint Laurent’s and-!

Deep breath.

Control.

She was a different person now. A calmer, quieter, gentler person. The person Rembrandt needed. She had fifteen documented hours of therapy to prove it. She was better, she was getting better!

“It’s complicated.”

This was unacceptable.

Rembrandt Logan had been on his own long enough. It was time to come home.