Sandra is pretty persuasive

"I don't think I can do that..." You leave the words hanging in the stillness of your apartment as a question and Sandra meets your eyes steadily and nods.

"I heard rumors of a freshman from some small town in Indiana who stumbled into the wrong frat house last year." You are honestly a little confused at first by the sudden turn in conversation, but relieved that she has dropped the matter. "She was a little drunk, but sober enough to tell them to stop when they tied her down to the pool table." You've heard similar stories just about every year you've been here, and not always the same fraternity either. "They took turns with her all night; the girl ended up transferring to a different University."

"Yeah, it's awful, Sandra. Those sick bastards always seem to get away with shit like that."

"I know, Stephen, but sometimes I wonder what would happen if I showed up late one night after one of their par-"

"No!" You cut her off before she can even finish the thought. "Sandra, those assholes don't fool around."

"I know, Stephen," Sandra's voice is trembling with emotion, "that's why I want to try this with someone I can trust." There is a long pause as you consider what she is asking of you. "Please?" How can you say 'no' to a lady's request? Especially under the circumstances. When Sandra sees your **** nod, she lets out a huge sigh of relief.

"Let me get out of this bra." She must see the surprise on your face because she is quick to explain, "In my fantasies, the bad guys always slowly cut away the princess' clothes, but these bra's cost a fortune." This situation has gotten way out of control, but you don't know how to put on the brakes without either hurting Sandra or having her try something really stupid. So, five minutes later you are waiting by your table with a coil of rope from an old camping trip in your hands when Sandra walks out of the bathroom wearing nothing but her white blouse that hangs low enough to cover her private parts. Without her bra, you can just make out the faint pink of her bare tits through the sheer cotton of her blouse.

"OK, Stephen," Somehow Sandra is able to sound as casual as if she does this every day, "Your men have just intercepted the young and noble Princess Brunhilda," she curtsies theatrically, "on her way to solicit aide from a neighboring kingdom. "They've stripped away almost all my clothes and brought me to you for questioning. My small group of loyal retainers are hiding in the forests of Endor, and I'll do everything in my power to keep that location secret." She pauses for just a second before concluding with a rush. "It's your job to do whatever it takes to question this pure, innocent maiden. You can do anything you want to get her to break, Stephen, anything at all."

"I don't want to go too far, Sandra."

"Anything, means anything, Stephen." Sandra's eyes meet yours steadily, "If it gets to be too much, all I have to do is tell you about the camp in Endor." Before you can come up with a reasonable counterargument, the pretty sophomore hops up on the hastily cleared table before holding out her wrists in surrender, "Do you want me face up or face down, Sir?"