The two were a study in contrasts. Tiffany Wells was blond, almost aggressively cheerful and hyperactive. Well on her way to a commerce degree with no intention of stopping short of her Masters, with the practical experience of being the one of daddy dearest's children who actually cared enough about the business to have worked at it every summer since she was thirteen. She had taken to work like she had taken to school politics, like a shark to a sea filled with slow moving tasty fish. Curly blond hair, a tight body whose five and a half feet seemed taller just through sheer force of personality. Her bubbly and perky manner covered the sort of thoughtless drive and ambition that propelled her father to the top of the business world, through four divorces, and powered Tiffany through a series of boy toys used and discarded in a way that would make Taylor Swift take notes, as her 36C breasts and tight bubble butt made her one of the most popular sights on the schools award winning volleyball team, none of her exes objected to the experience.

Deborah Shaw was her antithesis. Quiet, dark haired, studious and serious in a way Tiffany needed for grounding, Deborah wore her glasses like her disapproving frown, the screen through which she viewed a world that consistently failed to live up to expectations and required adjustment. Tiffany very definitely was used to that look from her friend. Pushing her glasses up her nose and sighing, Deborah tucked a lock of raven black hair behind her ear and began to lecture her friend again on her privilege leaking out.

"You mean Prithvi? The Indian Biotech major who chairs the co-op program board, who rallied the Hindu and Sikh students to support the Pagans to getting the same rights that all your precious Christian groups have to sign out class space out of school hours to host events? You know, the one doing all the work?" Deborah's drawl was openly challenging, and Tiffany was helpless to resist challenges.

Religion was something of a sticking point from Deborah's point of view, she was a Wiccan, a pagan, and her friend Tiffany was a Baptist of the sort that believed that those who were wealthy were simply enjoying the proof of gods favour, and that if most of them happened to be white, that just proved that more white people were hard working and devout, and thus favoured by god with wealth, power and position where they could better make decisions for those who were less fortunate, and less gifted to run their own lives. It wasn't racist, it was simply god's will. Tiffany gave no more thought to her religion than she gave to her hair colour. It simply was. The fact that Deborah was Wiccan was unfortunate, sort of like being born poor, and probably related, but Tiffany assumed her sterling character and influence would result in Deborah becoming both Christian and wealthy because the world always did what Tiffany expected, that was just how it worked.

"Prithvi is a very sweet boy, I am sure, but shouldn't the president of the University Faith Council be from a background that has a real understanding of leadership, and has experience in working with the higher strata both of the University and the major churches the students come from? You know, a real church?" Tiffany responded, glaring at her friend who was looking up at her from her bed in their shared room. Deborah was only five four, but curvier than Tiffany, and if she was not as skinny, her 38D breasts more than made up for it in ability to attract attention when the two of them went out clubbing together. When the two of them ditched their dates and danced together it had been known to start small riots among both genders to get a front row spot. When they fought it was at least as much a spectator sport.

Deborah laughed, pointing her pen at Tiffany like a wand.

"Oh my god your privilege is showing again! You mean he is too brown, working class, and Hindu to be in charge. He isn't rich and Christian. The whole point of the Faith Council has been to represent all Students, but only rich Christian kids have ever been on it, let alone chaired it. The Hindu's have real churches you know. I was at a wedding at one this summer, I did invite you, remember? There are like a billion Hindu out there, and hundreds of them on campus. Besides, he is hot!" Deborah ended with a leer, biting the end of her pen suggestively.

Tiffany shuddered "Gross! No way. I mean he's muscular enough, and exotic looking, I will give you that but seriously Deborah? I never thought of you as slumming."
There was a place in Tiffany's world for good boys (well muscled sons of the right families who danced well, tipped well, and played well), bad boys (attractive boys mostly top scholarship jocks either white or black who understood how out of their league she was and treated her accordingly) the rest of the world should be content to serve in the hopes of getting the slightest nod from her in return. The fact that Deborah saw this as racist, and class-based prejudice was cute, in a sort of communist ignorant way. The fact that Deborah didn't understand that being born Christian simply made you naturally morally superior was a flaw in her friend she hoped to overcome by her shining example.

Tiffany continued. "Someone needs to talk to him about withdrawing from the race. I mean, if he withdrew his name now there would be no shame in being beaten by me, and no resentment from the........" Tiffany reached for a politically correct word and Deborah rushed to assist her.

"Lower orders? Darkies? Heathens? Hindus?" Deborah suggested cheerfully, calling her friend on her racism.

Tiffany sighed and completed her thought "students requiring the guidance of a superior culture in their advancement towards a more rewarding place in society"

Deborah had a wicked thought and allowed it to play across her mind for almost a minute before speaking. Her heart beating fast, she felt a surge of anticipation run through her as she trolled the bait before her room mate, aware of how Tiffany responded to challenges, and more than aware of what she was setting her best friend up for.

"Say Tiffany, did you know the Hindu Students are having an open house party tonight, and the other minority faiths are pretty much all going. I have an invitation and was planning on going, if you wanted to come as my plus one, I bet you could get Prithvi alone and if you worked your charms on him, I bet you could settle who should be president!"

The party was at "The Lab" the nickname given to the Science and Engineering Student Recreational Center, where the geeks of the world united to party, and since their graduates built half the city, and whose industries ran half the planet, it was quietly one of the nicer buildings on campus and a well paid alma mater society made sure such things as campus police scrutiny on legal drinking ages were more smile and nod than doing math on birthdates. As you would expect from a building designed by engineers for their own, it had both killer sound systems and killer sound proofing. The party was an eye opener for Tiffany.

Half the kids were Hindu, but they were not dressed normally. Saree made the women into creatures of exotic flame and darkness as they danced with hedonistic abandon to the Hindu pop that pulsed like the blood of an aroused goddess through the sound system. The men wore loose shirts unbuttoned to show a lot of chest as they moved with sensual arrogance on the dance floor, great bulls powerful and confident. How unlike the awkward look they held in class, as they strove always to minimize their differences to be accepted long enough to be granted the access to the education they needed for their futures. The other half of the kids were a wild mix. Natives in various outfits calling upon their individual heritage. Tiffany always knew there were Native Americans at her school, but again they tried so hard to blend it was just easier to ignore the differences, except here they danced in arrogant celebration of it, uncaring that Christianity deemed their culture an offense, and through the residential school system committed terrible atrocities in living memory to wipe it out.

Pagans of various stripes, from Wiccans, to Zoroastrians, Asatru to Druid danced in wild garb describing traditions the God-Fearing Christians had thought to wipe from existence through fire and steel, and of course quiet economic strangulation, for centuries. Tiffany looked at her club dress, thought so daring because of the cleavage and thigh she showed off, and suddenly felt drab. The gold cross that hung in her décolletage, supposedly as a sign of her faith, but practically do draw every eye to the sway of her breasts while she danced suddenly made her feel a minority. The Hindu pop music was strange. The beats called to her, the wild sensual nature called to a primitive part of her that always awoke in the dance clubs, but here it was more raw, more potent.

Tiffany accepted a beer from a grinning Hindu boy who was openly eyeing her up and down in a way that normally made her feel comfortably superior, but just now made her feel somehow, vulnerable. She chugged half of it in an attempt to refuel with liquid courage as her own determination to march on as a Christian Soldier seemed to be foundering in the wild beat of the club. She clung to Deborah's hand as she towed her through the throng.

Prithvi was dancing with one hand above his head holding a beer and two sultry Hindu girls in saree frankly dancing on him. They used his body like a pole, and they writhed like two naga, two snake goddesses entrancing with their every curving gesture as they danced in competition for Prithvi who looked on like the king stag over his adoring herd. His body was pantherish, muscular but not bulky. His hair was full but cropped short, a think black wave like a lion's mane that flared when he danced and framed his dark eyes in a way that gave him a wild intensity Tiffany felt unprepared for having only seen him in committee meetings where forced social politeness stripped almost all character away.

Deborah shocked Tiffany to her blond roots when she pulled her up to Prithvi to make the introductions. Rather than addressing Prithvi directly, she grabbed the red saree clad dancer and pulled her into a long passionate kiss, until the green saree clad dancer pulled Deborah back by her hair and claimed one equally as long for herself, henna tattooed hands openly caressing her room mates white breast. Deborah giggled and shouted over the crowd noise.

"Paula, Chandra, can I borrow Prithvi for a bit for my room mate Tiffany? She wants to talk to him about who ought to be Faith Council President. I promise I will make it up to both of you!!" Deborah had one hand around the green clad Hindu girl (Paula's) neck, and the other one on the red clad Hindu girl's (Chandra's) ass, so it was clear exactly how she was planning on making it up to them. Tiffany tried to absorb the fact that her room mate was gay, or at least bisexual, but it was too much for her rigid Christian mind to accept so her thoughts just froze.

As Paula and Chandra whisked Deborah off to the dance floor, the trio moving together in a sensual rhythm that spoke of times and morals that belonged in ancient forests and painted idols more than the sterile churches and rigid social mores that Tiffany swam her entire life through unaware that it was an aquarium, when the whole dark depths of the wild and ancient seas still awaited her.

Prithvi was laughing, shaking his leonine head as his two partners swept away with Deborah between them, leaving Tiffany washed up on his shore like a shipwrecked and lost sailor.

"It seems you have cost me two beautiful dance partners, you will have to dance twice as well for me to make up for it I think" His tone was only half jest, but he continued before she could decide how to react.
"I hear you have an opinion about having a Hindu scholarship student as Faith Council President, something about natural fitness for president?" Prithvi mused as he moved towards her, moving to the music with a sensual arrogance that called to Tiffany on a level below thought.

Tiffany may not know how to react right now, but there were two things that were written in her blood at a genetic level, one was dance, and the other was social ambition. She gave both free rein as she began her pitch. Knowing how lust allowed her to bend all the good boys, and all the bad boys around her little finger, or baby toe when she wanted those kissed, she made no effort to keep her movements proper, but let the wild spirit of the Hindu pop music touch those places inside her where she was able to lose herself in the dance, and the needs of her own body.

Normally it took her half an hour of dance before she could touch it but moving with Prithvi it seemed to fill her with an urgency she only felt when the DJ was on his game, and the night would last forever. She felt the blood start to thunder in her veins, sweat break upon her skin and her nipples fill as her body gave itself to the beat and to the night. He body beginning that most ancient of all dances, she did not let her mind dwell on that, not when politics and position were at stake.

Turning her back to Prithvi, rubbing her bubble butt against his hard body, one arm thrown over her head to casually stroke his cheek and neck as she slithered up and down his body to the music, rubbing against him like a kitten starved for attention, she worked her body on his to break resistance to the words she had rehearsed a thousand times as she planned this meeting.

"You absolutely are a valued voice on the Faith Council Prithvi, but president, that is a position you are either suited for from birth or not. I mean the president must be seen by the whole student body as naturally the leader, or division is just going to turn every petty religious difference into a divisive issue. You have to be able to talk to those in power in the University in the language of power, and either you were born to it or you were not. I mean it is about your natural role." Tiffany said, the last words edging into a groan as she rubbed her ass on what was beginning to be a very large hardness in Prithvi's jeans.

He put one hand on her hip, the other on her belly and began to direct their movements, his lips came down below her ear, brushing her neck like the promise of a kiss as his own voice reached out to her. Low, sensual, with a level of arrogance and .....dominance.....she had never heard from anyone but her father, Prithvi began to speak.

"Ah, I see, so the question is about rightful place. Natural superiority. Some were born to rule, some to be ruled. Some were born to hold the leash, and others to wear the collar." As he said that, his hand which had trailed up her side and missed her breasts which she had been prepared to deflect, suddenly closed gently on her throat. As he spoke of being born to naturally wear the collar, his hand closed like a collar around her throat and her body melted backwards into his, her ass suddenly filling her mind with the awareness of the hot bar of bronze that pushed the silk clad cheeks of her tight ass apart when she pushed backwards.

This was not happening. She was always in control. Why did this feel so good?

He pushed her away, catching her arm as she flew off and turning her in a spin to face him. He danced towards her in regal unconcern.

She pressed close to him, matching his sensual challenge with her own, her breath coming in panting quickness now as an unheard-of urgency began to fill her. He was still speaking and for the first time she abandoned her rehearsed speech and really listened.

"My family are Brahmin, we have been rulers and priests for thousands of years. When your people were still painting each other blue before hacking off each other's heads, we had writing and poetry, we have had learned priests and scholars debating the teachings of the gods before yours first raised an altar to the sun and moon, before they realized the gods that ordered the universe made them too. We accepted the divinity of man, the divine feminine that shone not only in the holy goddesses but in our wives, daughters, sisters and mothers long before yours ever betrayed their own to follow a woman hating impotent godling who cannot even father his own children. A cuckhold god. A cuckhold god for a cuckhold people, waiting for one who has never lost their culture, never forgotten the divinity in the holy male, and the holy female to teach them how to be human again. If we were asked, nicely, to do so"

Tiffany opened her mouth to object. She was proud of her heritage. She was rich, white, and Christian. That was as god ordained, the rightful order of the universe. Rich white and Christian ruled and everyone else just wished they were. Wasn't it? How could she boast of five generations of wealth to a man who claimed thousands of years of nobility? How could she argue the divine feminine when her own dress right now she could never wear in church without the hissed whisper of "Slut" reaching out from every smiling face. Deborah always called her on it. Tiffany was a proud woman, in a faith that said women should be silent and obedient. Tiffany was a sensual woman, in a faith that said that sensuality was a crime. Virgin or whore were the Christian choices, and Tiffany was no virgin.

Tiffany's eyes showed her weakness, her indecision. Prithvi moved in. He drew her against his body, letting her move herself against him as he stared into her eyes, one hand trailing down her arm, the other holding in the small of her back as he whispered to her.

"You have two voices, the one you want to admit, telling you that you are naturally class president, and one you feel when you get near to me, to a real and proud Hindu man, the one that whispers you are naturally suited to be class prostitute."

She moaned and tried to hide the shudder that went through her body, the hot wetness filling her almost nonexistent underwear, but she was trapped in his gaze like a rabbit before a panther. He kissed her neck and she felt herself grind against his hard cock.

"There is nothing that is had cheaply that you will value. No lesson that doesn't cost you that you will truly accept. You have lived a lie your entire life, and you can't simply say you are going to live true now. You have to earn it, have to prove it. You will have to prove it to me, because only then will you own the lesson" His words were stern in her ears, but his hands roamed over her body, his touch on her ass had her climbing him like a tree, attempting to mount him on the dance floor as if they were both naked.

"One of us was meant to rule, one to be ruled. One of us was destined to hold the leash, the other to wear the collar. One of us was destined to be president, and the other for class prostitute. Which do you NEED to be Tiffany?"

Whimpering, Tiffany tried to kiss Prithvi, but his hand caught her hair and refused to let her lips claim his until she spoke the truth.

"You are naturally president, and I, I beg to be class prostitute!" Tiffany shouted, causing heads to turn.

Prithvi pulled her close and let her lips claim his and his hands moved on her body as hers clawed at his. He pulled her dress up to her waist and alternately stroked and spanked her nearly naked ass right on the dance floor. A circle quickly grew around them.

Looking over, she saw her friend Deborah on her knees, eating Paula's pussy against one of the pillars as Paula and Chandra kissed and watched Tiffany being educated in the middle of the dance floor. Tiffany took her hands off Prithvi long enough to jerk her panties down and Prithvi soon let his fingers begin claiming his pussy as Tiffany rode his hand like her first pony. She tore open his shirt and was sucking on his nipples as he brought her to her first orgasm.

He ripped off her dress, pulling it over her head and naked he drew her to him. He claimed her breasts with his lips and pressed her against the pillar where her friend was worshipping Hindu chut like a high priestess of love. He let Tiffany unzip his pants and pull out a massive dark bar of bronze, a cock fit for a bull, a Hindu bull, and she moaned as he put the tip against her.

"I know you think you can say anything, then back out of it later. You have Daddy's lawyers and generations of the rules never applying to you or your kind. You have a Church that sells forgiveness and lets you out of all the evils you do, and all the bargains you break, simply by paying off the priest and pretending you are sorry, but this is Hindu, not Christian" Prithvi whispered.

Rubbing the head of his penis up and down her needy slit, teasing Tiffany as no one had ever dared to tease her before.

"You have to submit to Hindu rule for real, forever. You have a choice, remain a free Christian woman and you can take your clothes and leave, never knowing what Hindu loving can bring to you, or swear before your god and mine that you will be my whore, whore for all Hindu's I choose to share you with, and I will teach you what your church could never allow"

Rubbing his cock up and down her slit, he teased and teased, looking into Tiffany's helpless eyes as no amount of wiggling would overcome Prithvi's pantherish strength and let her impale herself on his Hindu bull-cock without his permission. She broke and screamed at the top of her lungs.

"I will be your whore, whore for every Hindu you say, before Christ and Shiva I swear it!" Tiffany screamed.

With a growl, Prithvi claimed her lips for a fierce kiss and he began to thrust into her in time with the music. A crowd had gathered around, some couples also beginning to make out, but many lone Hindu males gathered to watch the new mleccha be broken in.

Deborah looked over in a frenzy of her own, as she was eating Paula while Chandra devoured her white pussy, watching Tiffany discover the joys of submission to Hindu love, and shatter at last the limits of her Christian blindness.

Tiffany sucked on Prithvi's tongue as she felt his cock resize her tight white pussy. She had lovers before who were large, but none this large, none whose entire manner dominated and overwhelmed her. No lover had ever made her feel conquered, subjugated, and owned as she did now. She looked into the dark pits of Prithvi's eyes and her mouth opened in a soundless scream. She began to cum, and looking into his eyes she saw only remorseless Hindu power, an elemental sexuality beyond anything her Christian mind could accept.

He fucked through her orgasm, and on to another. As he approached his own he looked deep into her eyes and let Tiffany feel his passion. He almost chanted as he pounded into her. Drilling his cock and his truth home with each thrust.

"Your body is mine to use"
"Your body is mine to share"
"Your orgasms are mine to give"
"Your pleasure is mine to withhold"
"Only Hindu cock can please you"
"Only Hindu love can fulfill you"
"Only Hindu cum can redeem you"

With a gasp, he started to fill her pussy with each shuddering thrust, his heavy bull balls slapping her ass as he buried hilt deep in her pussy and she felt the explosion of his unprotected cock deep in her white womb. Whimpering, she wrapped her ankles behind his ass cheeks, and clamped her pussy down on him like a vice. She would milk him of his Hindu sperm before she let him pull out. Her tongue practically raped his mouth as she hung impaled on his cock against the pillar.

As he let her slump to the floor, she stared up at him in wonder.

"Was it all a game princess? Or do you understand now. Understand who you are, who I am, and what your place in this world is?" Prithvi asked sternly, the waiting Hindu crowd waiting, watching, and several filming.

Tiffany had several flaws, but no one had ever accused her of being indecisive. When she learned something new she leapt upon it like a tiger and followed it to its logical conclusion with a focus and will that caused many of her professors to rethink their dismissal of the too popular too pretty girls mind. This was no exception. She took in her revelation and embraced it.

Taking off her golden cross, with its heavy diamond center, she hung it from Prithvi's swaying Hindu cock. She kissed his cock head, then kissed each of his sneakered feet.

"I am your whore, a whore for every Hindu you share me with. You were born to be president, and I ask if you will let me be class prostitute?"

Prithvi grinned and turned to the surrounding Hindu men.

"What do you say to our new mleccha whore? Will you let her serve all of your Hindu cocks, will you fill and cover her with Hindu cum, or do we send her back to her church and cuckhold god to only dream of real Hindu cock for the rest of her life?"

Wide blue eyes blazed upward with a hunger matching the dark black eyes that gazed down upon the sight of her white face devouring Hindu cock, her white hands stroking brown shafts and cupping brown balls as she performed like the most devoted whore for the crowd of her Hindu classmates.

She received many votes that night, some may have voted more than once.

In the end, half a dozen of the Hindu boys made sure both Tiffany and Deborah made it back to their sorority. Both were giggling, neither were even half dressed, and each were covered in Hindu cum of one gender or another.

Deborah caught her friend as she pulled her into the shower with her. Kissing her softly, taking the salty essence of Hindu sperm into her mouth as she let Tiffany taste the spicy citrus essence of Hindu pussy on her own lips.

"Tiffany, can you forgive me for setting you up like that? I knew how blind you were, and I knew what Hindu love was like for real. Can you forgive me, because now you are a whore for them, just like I am"

Deborah asked looking her friend in the eye, and looking for any hint of betrayal.

Tiffany grabbed a handful of Deborah's curvy ass and stuck her tongue half way down her throat in a passionate kiss before hugging her so hard they both almost fell over in the shower.

"Oh Deborah, I know two things are going to be true from now on. First, I am going to be way more involved in President Prithvi's University Faith Council. I really feel called to volunteer to serve under him any way I can" Tiffany said with a shiver.

Deborah turned on the water and watched as it washed the cum off Tiffany's breasts, onto her own before running down both of their bellies and mounds. She felt Tiffany's hands begin to move on Deborah's back and neck, as Tiffany continued.

"Oh, and showering is going to be way more fun with two, don't you think Deborah?"

Deborah replied with a kiss, noting the simple blackened steel trident that hung on a chain of heavy steel links around Tiffany's neck like a collar. It turns out, both of them would be serving Hindu's of both genders together on campus.

Life couldn't get much better.