Porterville High 3&4

That Monday evening, all thoughts of Achilles were driven from
Amy's mind when her father came home and told her that he had arrested her
ex-boyfriend and two of his friends. They had, he told her, gotten into
a fight in a bar, and her ex had shot someone dead with his father's
rifle. Oh god, she thought, please don't let them find out about the
store robbery. Her father, though, was telling her that the police
thought the boys might be connected with the store robbery, but they
couldn't prove anything, yet. Amy didn't fall asleep until late that
night, worry eating up her stomach.
The next morning the news was all over the school, and when
Achilles heard it, he was at first worried for Amy, but then he became
ecstatic. This was the final nail in the coffin for her; he knew exactly
what to do now.
Maria heard the news and didn't care. Since her rape she had
been withdrawn and even more anti-social than usual. She was surprised,
then, when Jim approached her at lunch and asked her to follow him. She
didn't know Jim well, but she knew his reputation, so didn't hesitate to join
him. If he chose to speak to her, she could learn something. She
shivered, though, and almost balked, when he took her down to the same
room in which she was raped. She entered anyway and was surprised to see
two chairs set up before a tv and vcr.
"Sit, sit," he motioned, and turned on the tv screen and started
the vcr.
"Oh Jesus," she whispered softly as she recognized herself on the
tape, herself walking into this very room and being grabbed by Ms.
Ellsworth's three bully boys. She was frozen with shock, and she stared,
transfixed, at the screen while Jim spoke to her in the background.
"I thought you might like to see this, Maria," he said, watching
her closely. "With this tape you can put that bitch away for good. You
know that. But I don't think that's good enough for her," he emphasized,
leaning closer to the girl, "I don't think she deserves to get off easy
with just going to jail. I want to see her punished, in pain, screaming
for mercy. Maria?"
Maria tore her eyes from the video of her rape and turned her
head slowly toward his. Her large brown eyes bore into his as she spoke,
her voice loaded with passion. "Anything, anything you want. Just give
me the cunt."
Jim let a smile grow over his face as he stared back at her
impassioned face. Sara, he thought, was going to be in for a big surprise.
Before she left, he gave her a duffle bag full of bondage and
sadomasochistic books and magazines, all, he said, to give her ideas on
how best to torture Ms. Sara Ellsworth. One last thing he gave her
before she left: a new outfit she was to wear when she came down to the
boiler room on Friday afternoon, where her teacher would be waiting for her.
That afternoon, instead of heading home, Sara went down to the
boiler room to await Jim and Achilles. She didn't have to wait long, and
wasn't at all surprised at what they did to her. There was a lot more
bondage and a lot more pain than pleasure than the previous evening, but it
didn't matter, because already she was having trouble telling the
difference. They whipped her, pinched her, slapped her, and fucked her
repeatedly for over three hours, then let her go home to collapse
exhausted on the couch. She was out another five hundred dollars, but,
she thought as she lay there, her body still buzzing from pain and
pleasure, it was worth it. She almost couldn't wait for the rest of the
week, all down in the boiler room.
Wednesday was a school day like any other, and Amy started to
relax when she realized the boom had not yet fallen, and from what her
father said, probably wouldn't fall. Her mind started to drift back to
Achilles and what he had told her about himself and about his sexual
experiences, and she obliquely questioned her girlfriends about their
experiences. She didn't get any satisfactory answers, and almost looked
forward to meeting him in the orchard that afternoon.
Four fifteen rolled around and she stood in the orange grove
waiting for Achilles. He showed up a few minutes later carrying a duffle
bag, looking, she thought, morose.
"Sit down," he said, following suit and putting on his most
depressed face. He had rehearsed the following words over and over in
his head all night; he hoped he wouldn't blow it. "You know, Amy, I've been
thinking a lot about the robbery. I've been feeling really guilty about
not telling anybody about it--I mean, a man was killed. No, don't
interupt. Then, when I heard about those guys getting arrested for
another murder, it was like a great weight was lifted from my shoulders.
You know?"
"I...I understand, Achilles, and..."
"Wait. I haven't finished. I felt better because they weren't
getting away with what they did--they were going to be punished now, and
they deserved to be punished. Then I thought about you, Amy. You did
this horrible thing, Amy, and you got away scot free!"
"Achilles..." she wheedled.
"No! It's true. Nothing bad has happened to you. Sure I
spanked you and took some money from you, but what is that compared to a
man's life? So I was thinking, you know, maybe you should tell everyone
what you had done, or else I could maybe send in the photos. You know?"
With that he looked up at her with his best sad eyes.
Oh my God! she thought. He couldn't! He simply couldn't! She
was in misery: to worry about the doom of jail and then to escape, only
to be told that doom still awaits--it was too awful. She stared at him
with horror, her mind working frantically to get her out of this. He
didn't _want_ to do this; he felt he had to. She could use that. She
could. He also wanted her--she knew that. Even with his girlfriend, he
wanted her. But he wanted her punished too; she knew he wouldn't be
detered from that. How then? How to escape this trap? Suddenly an idea
hit her: it was awful, but it was her only way out.
Slowly she got up onto her knees and leaned forward onto her
fingertips until her face was only a foot away from his. "I...I don't
_want_ to go to jail Achilles," she said softly, "but you're right, I did
screw up, and I shouldn't get away with it, but you don't have to turn me
in." He was looking at her now, curiosity replacing the sadness in his
eyes. "I have," she swallowed, "I have a better idea, Achilles.
You...you punish me. Please," she cried as she saw the look of surprise
in his face, "please, do it for me. I don't want to go to jail!"
Achilles did his best to look surprised when she said the words
he oh so much wanted to hear. Oh yes, oh yes he would punish her, but he
said, standing and looking confused and embarrassed, "I don't know Amy.
I don't know. Let me think about it. Let me think. Come down here at
six and I'll tell you. I have to think." With that, he half stumbled
half ran off, leaving her with an agony of waiting.
He practically ran all the way home, he was so elated. She was
his! Finally she was his! He practically jumped with joy at the
thought. Sure, he was going to have to miss his fucking Sara tonight,
but he would be punishing his dream girl, Amy Sanders. He already had
some good ideas.
Amy stood in the orange grove for a few more minutes, fretting
worriedly. God she hoped he took her up on her offer, but she was
apprehensive too. Too have him punish her.... She knew if he decided to
he would humiliate her and degrade her like he had when he had spanked
her. She wandered back to her house disconsoletly, thinking in her mind
anything he could do to her would be better than jail, no matter how
humiliating. She started thinking, too, of what he had said: was it
true that she should be punished? She had left a man to die, and then
told no one who had done it--wasn't that deserving of punishment? Didn't
she deserve whatever Achilles was going (how she hoped he would decide
so) to her? It wasn't only the robbery, either. How about how she
treated her friends, like they were there for her, like they weren't even
human? And how about how she thought about everyone else, thought
herself above them, smarter and more attractive than them? She was going
somewhere, she was a winner, they were all losers. Wasn't she only now
getting her just desserts? She didn't like thinking all these
things--she wasn't naturally introspective--but she couldn't stop
herself; the tension of the past week had made her wonder about herself
and her place in the world. She shuddered at the thoughts she couldn't
push out of her head as she lay on her bed awaiting Achilles' decision.
Six o'clock rolled around and found them both standing among the
orange trees in the waning light of the day. He had accepted her
proposition and was now telling her to remove the flower pattern summer
dress she was wearing, which so complimented her figure. She obeyed
meekly; she had known something like this was coming, and had made her
decision: she would do whatever he asked.
Achilles watched with growing excitement as she stepped out of
her dress and handed it to him. He stared at her lithe body for a
moment, letting his eyes travel over her jutting breasts, encased in a
push-up bra, her smooth white skin firm across her stomach and hips, a
few curling pubic hairs peeking out from her white panties, and her
perfect, long legs with shapely calves and thighs. He sighed and gently
placed the dress near the duffle bag he had brought and took out several
of the things he had brought.
Standing in just her bra and her panties, Amy hung her head,
feeling the cool breeze of the evening caress her body and knowing, just
knowing, that Achilles wanted to do the same. She shivered, then.
"Amy," Achilles spoke, "I found some things down in the basement
which I thought I would use." He reached across to her and handed her a
studded leather collar, padded on the inside, with four metal loops
ninety degrees from each other on the outside. "Put it on."
She glanced up at him, but couldn't look; she was too ashamed.
With her left hand she lifted her kinky sandy blond hair away from her
neck and hooked the collar around her neck, clasping it shut in front.
It was so demeaning, she thought, so demeaning to be standing her like
this with this collar around my neck. Like a dog; like some animal.
"Here, put this on," he said, handing her a small padlock.
She obeyed mechanically, feeling awful, feeling like she knew she
should be feeling for what she had done.
"Now put this in," he continued, handing her a somewhat
wedgeshaped piece of pink plastic which fit in her palm, with two
supple leather straps connected to the larger end by metal rivits.
She gazed at it for a minute then looked at him, confused. What
was this thing? she wondered. Her light blue eyes widened in surprise
and she blushed as she saw him motion toward his mouth and say, "You
don't deserve to speak, do you?"
She shook her head and looked down again, opening her mouth and
sliding the plastic in. It was cool and tasteless, but it stretched her
jaw wide, the thin end fitting snuggly against her back molars while the
rest made sure to fill her mouth. Thankfully it left her tongue enough
room so that she could swallow, even if it was pressed down against the
bottom of her mouth. The whole thing didn't fit in her mouth, so her
lips were bunched up uncomfortably around the end. She reached around
and cinched the leather straps together at the top of her neck, her hands
running up against the collar she was wearing. A wave of mental anguish
washed over he then, but she pushed it back resolutely; it was no more
than she deserved.
Achilles watched her put the gag in, imagining it was his cock.
He watched as she worked her jaw wider and wider to accomidate the gag,
and then jiggle it around so it was its most comfortable. He liked the
way it made her face look: it softened the harsh angles of her face and
distended her lips obscenely, the leather straps pulling the sides of her
mouth into hollows, accenting her anguished eyes.
Amy stood there, her feet rooted to the ground, her body shaking
with humiliation, as he slowly walked a circle around her. She knew his
eyes were exploring her near naked body, knew he was appraising her even
as she stood there in shame.
He went back to the bag and pulled out a riding crop and slid it
through his hand before looking over at his prize. Her eyes were wide
with surprise as he approached her, and she jerked back her head as he
ran the crop gently against her cheek.
"None of that now," he said, smiling at her as he began gently
stroking her face with the crop.
"AAAAAHHHHH...UUUUUUUUHHHHH" she grunted through her gag, scared
now as she felt the crop run gently across her cheek, her forehead, down
her neck. She couldn't stop her body from shaking; the crop was like a
little charge of electicity wherever it touched, leaving a tingling trail
down her neck, her arms, the top of her breasts, her stomach, the tops of
the thighs and around to the back of her thighs. Now to her buttocks,
the small of her back, between her shoulder blades. She was still
shivering when the crop lifted, and she almost jumped when she felt his
hand lay on her shoulder.
He watched the reactions of her body as he gently caressed it
with the crop. She was shaking, scared, terrified and nervous,
adrenaline coursing through her blood. She was on edge, standing on the
tip of a needle, ready to fall whichever way he pushed. He smiled as she
jumped at his touch, and whispered into her ears, "Down, down on your
hands and knees."
She jerkily obeyed him, her whole body tight, her gut churning
with nervousness. She had gotten herself into this, she thought. It had
been her decision. The dirt, leaves and twigs felt rough under her hands
and knees, and her breasts felt pendulous as they hung down beneath her,
barely within her bra now. She closed her eyes; it couldn't get any
worse. Then she felt his hands at her neck and something click shut, and
she looked up to see him holding a leash.
"You're now my bitch," he said, and she didn't even mind, she was
so numb--numb and tense, strange her mind told her. "I need to give you
a name.... How about Princess? Do you like Princess?"
She nodded dully, accepting her fate.
"Let's go for a walk, come on Princess, let's go for a walk."
He felt a surge of power as he shuffled along with Amy crawling
by his side, looking down at her back and gazing longingly at the side of
her breast as it swung freely within her bra cup. He could make her take
off her bra, he knew. Could probably even fuck her right now, but she
wouldn't be into it, wouldn't like it, and he didn't want a motionless
piece of ass. He wanted her to give herself to him willingly, to beg him
to take her, to own her. This was just the first step.
Amy shuffled along beside him, feeling degraded, lower than a
dog. It was awful: her knees and hands hurt from the clods of dirt and
twigs digging into her skin, and she told herself she should get up and
tell Achilles she wasn't taking any more of this. Punishment was
punishment, but this was too much. But whenever she thought this, her
mind went back to that night in the truck, the gunshots and her panic and
a man lying dead in the store, and she remembered they way she had
looked upon Achilles and others at her school, as not human, as below
her, and she didn't stand up and tell him off; she continued crawling on
the ground like the dog she was--it was only right and fitting.
He led her around like that for ten minutes, tugging at the leash
whenever he turned. He brought her back to their original meeting place
and said, "Stay!" He then walked ten yards away and took off his shoes
and socks and sat down on the ground, his feet in front of him.
"Down on your belly, Princess," he called out. He was going to
love this part.
At the sound of his voice Amy looked up at him sitting on the
ground in the distance. She groaned a little as she lay down on her
stomach, thankful that her weight was no longer on her knees and hands.
"Now crawl to me on your belly, my little bitch," she heard him
call out and she groaned inwardly. Hadn't he punished her enough yet?
But no, he hadn't, and she knew it. She began squirming across the
ground, using her thighs and upper arms to drag herself across the dirt.
She felt the dirt roll and scrape against the flesh of the thighs, her
stomach, and her breasts. As she made her way slowly toward Achilles,
she felt her bra pull down off her breasts, exposing the nipples to the
harsh earth beneath her. She didn't stop, though, even though she
whimpered in pain and humiliation through her gag at the earth tearing at
her tender breasts. It hurt and was humiliating crawling across the
ground like this, and she felt tears well up in her eyes.
It seemed an eternity before she reached him and looked up to
stare into his bare feet. Her breasts, stomach and thighs, as well as
her upper arms, were hyper sensitive, tenderized by the pebbles and dirt
clods and twigs and leaves which rolled and pressed against her body as
she squirmed across the ground. She was finished now, thank god, and
rested her cheek against the ground, grateful for the cool earth against
her face.
"Good Princess, good," she heard him say. "Now back up on your
hands and knees and take out your gag." Thank you thank you, she
thought, looking at him gratefully as she uncinched the ties behind her
neck and gently removed the gag, her jaws feeling strange as they closed
for the first time in a half hour. She massaged her jaws for a minute
and looked at him and was going to speak, but he put his finger to his
lips and quieted her.
"Now Princess, give me the gag. Good dog. No, don't adjust your bra,
I like it so I can see your nipples. That's right. Hmm...I think I'll let
you lick my feet now, Princess," and he smiled.
She looked at him, shocked now. She had been so relieved to be
allowed to take out the gag that she hadn't even realized that he could
now see her breasts. She wasn't surprised when he had demanded that she
leave them exposed, but lick his feet? That was grose, disgusting. She
shivered and half shook her head; she wouldn't do this.
He leaned forward and spoke to her, his voice hard: "Aren't you
forgetting something, Amy? _You_ were the one who decided you needed to
be punished; _you_ were the one who chose me to do it. You _will_ let me
do it. Do you understand?"
She quailed inwardly at the tone in his voice: it was hard,
commanding. Her face took on a scared, confused expression; she had
chosen this as better than jail; she deserved this, she did, she really
really did. Without a word she got back down on her hands and dragged
her tongue across the bottom of his foot, tasting the stale sweat of his
shoe and the musty dampness of the earth. She kept at it, running her
tongue between his toes and around his ankles and against his arch.
Achilles was in heaven, his legs numb with ecstacy. The feeling
of her tongue around his toes was sensational, and the view of her
breasts, dangling now against the ground, was too much. He let her lick
his feet for almost thirty minutes before he couldn't take it any
longer. He stood up quickly, panting with the effort of denying himself
her body, and rummaged around in the bag before taking out a bottle of
water, which he handed to her after telling her to get up. He had to
take out his pent up sexual energy somehow, and looking down at the
riding crop still in his hand, figured he knew just how.
Amy eagerly sucked down the water he gave her, gratefully washing
the taste of his feet off her tongue. She looked at him, wondering what
he was going to do next, dreading it, when she saw him gazing strangely
at the riding crop in his hand. He looked up at her, meeting her light
blue eyes with his, and said, "Up against the tree."
She hesitated, then obeyed him, her back against the tree and her
breasts standing proudly before her, still partly supported by the bra
rolled up underneath them, her legs apart for balance.
"Have you been a bad girl, Princess?" he asked, running the crop
gently across her nipples, making them swell with blood and sending her
heart racing and her breath come quicker.
"Yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes, I've been a bad girl." He kept brushing the crop against
her now ultra-sensitive nipples, engorged with blood, making her shake
with forbidden pleasure. It felt _so_ good she thought; she never knew
her breasts could feel so good. All the little indentations from the
dirt, all the pain from squirming over the ground seemed to be absorbed
into the incredible pleasure engulfing her breasts. She couldn't let him
see, couldn't let him know what he was doing to her. It was bad enough
as it was, but how humiliating if he discovered how she was reacting.
"Close your eyes," he commanded, taking away the crop. She
closed her eyes, trembling from the reaction of her body to its caresses,
trying to bring herself under control.
Suddenly she heard a whistling sound and a thin *thwack* and pain
exloded across her right nipple and she screamed, her eyes popping open
and her hands going up to protect herself, her knees bending and her body
twisting away from him. Her breast was on fire with pain as great as the
pleasure it had just felt--it felt like it was burning, and blood pounded
painfully across the red slash on her breast and nipple, increasing the
agony.
He just stood there, the crop in his hand, as if he had done
nothing. She was scared and in pain. The way he looked at her, like she
was just an animal, an animal to be punished for doing something bad.
"Bad girls have to be punished," he said. "Present your other breast for
punishment."
She couldn't believe what she was hearing, but his tone, his
stance, his attitude of complete assurance, of command, forced her to
obey. Besides, her mind told her, it's what you deserve. You felt
pleasure in your punishment, its only right you feel pain now. She
straightened back up against the tree and brought her hands down. She
closed her eyes; she knew what to expect.
Achilles looked at her, impressed. He wasn't sure if she would
accept another stroke of the crop, and her poise surprised him. He took
a moment to gaze at her breasts before he struck, noticing how they were
a little larger than Sara's, and more conical, but just as firm, if not
firmer. The nipples on both were still hard, even the one with a red
mark through it and across the breast. He brought his arm back and
slashed the crop against her other breast, making sure to hit the nipple,
and listened to her as she choked back a cry.
Pain flashed through her again, but she was determined not to cry
out, and strangled back the cry which sought to escape her lips. She was
gasping now, leaning back against the tree, her mind totally concentrated
on the pain in her breasts. Slowly she rubbed them, gritting her teeth
as she massaged the burning pain into a dull, throbbing ache concentrated
in her still hard nipples. She looked up at Achilles, pleading with her
eyes for him to be finished, for him to let her go. He only stared
mercilessly back at her and told her to turn around and hug the tree tight.
"Hug it! Tighter. Now hug it with your knees. You're not close
enough to it. That's better, much better."
She was gripping the tree as if she were going to shimmy up it,
her arms two thirds of the way around the trunk. Her torso was smashed
against the rough bark, which further tormented her nipples and breasts,
and scraped her stomach as she flexed her muscles to keep close to the
tree. Her inner thighs were also scratched up by the bark of the tree,
and her skin prickled at tiny splinters and edges in the bark. For the
first time she saw how she must look, with her cheek pressed up against
the trunk: she looked as if she were trying to fuck the tree. With that
thought, her face turned crimson and she became conscious of her mound
pressing through her panties against the hard wood. It was so obscene
what she was doing, with her breasts free and throbbing. What was he
doing to her.
She cried out in pain and jerked her hips into the tree as he
brought the crop against her covered ass. She moaned at the senstations
sparking from her groin as it ground itself against the rough bark of the
tree. Again he struck her ass, causing her hips to jerk convulsively
forward, sending more sparks of pleasure coursing up from her vagina.
She didn't know, didn't understand, what was happening to her. Her ass
was on flame with the pain of his whipping, but the blinding flashes of
pleasure blasting from her vagina each time her hips jerked against the
tree were like nothing she had ever felt before. As he kept striking he,
the pain and pleasure both built up, spreading first to her breasts as
she squirmed against the tree, scraping them violently against the rough
bark. The tree became a brutal lover as he brought the crop against her
ass again and again, scraping roughly against her inner thighs and leg,
bruising her mound and tearing at her breasts and stomach. It was all
too much for her, she was swirling in a fog of incredible sensations.
She no longer felt the crop against her ass, she only felt the rough bark
against her body as she ground mindlessly against it, sparks going off
before her eyes as sensations she had never felt before assaulted her
whole body. More sparks and a blinding white flash lit up her vision as
she body tensed and she screamed at the breaking tension which poured
wave after wave of fire through every nerve in her body. She bucked and
shook and spasmed against the tree, engulfed in a world of her own
pleasure, before she slowly slid down to the ground and lay, limbs
akimbo, half conscious, on the ground.
Achilles watched her growing orgasm with satisfaction and lust,
and felt victory as she came violently against the tree. She was his
now. He wasn't going to fuck her now--it was too soon. Let her think
about how she had reacted, how she had come for the first time in her
life in this orange grove, how he had made her shake violently in
orgasm. Silently he handed her her dress and said, "I want to see you
tomorrow in my room at 4:00. Don't be late," before walking off to the
school, hoping he wasn't to late to catch the last bit of Sara's
torture. He needed a good fuck right about now.

Part 4

Amy lay on the ground panting for breath, her mind slowly
regaining control over her body. She felt drained; she stood up on
wobbly knees and, leaning back agianst the tree, put on her dress. It
was all she could do to make her body obey her commands; she pushed the
thoughts of what she had done, what Achilles had seen her do, to the back
of her mind: she couldn't deal with it right now. She stood there for
some time while her wits and her equilibrium came back to her, and then
began walking home, her mind purposefully numb.
As she walked, the cool evening air brushed gently against her,
cooling her sweating body and forcing her mind to the damp spot between
her legs. She stumbled and closed her eyes tight, a moan escaping her
lips; she couldn't have done that, she just couldn't have! She stopped,
her mind working furiously: for the first time in her life she had had
an orgasm--okay. It had been fireworks and earthshaking and bombs
bursting; she could accept that, that was okay, but how and where her
body had finally brought her that pleasure she couldn't accept, and her
mind turned in shame from it.
She started walking again, faster and faster until she was almost
running. She had been stripped, collared, and gagged. She had been
oggled, leashed, and forced to lick someone's feet. Finally, she had
been beaten like a horse while she straddled a tree. How could that have
turned her on?! How?! She knew, though, deep down she knew as she ran
home as fast as her legs could take her, that it had. She knew that her
lust had grown with each degrading act she was forced to perform, knew
that her punishment, only right and fitting, had released something
inside her, some vestige of control or desire for control, and freed a
part of her that wanted, that lusted, to be degraded and humiliated and
most importantly, controlled. She choked back tears as she ran up to
her room and threw herself on her bed; it was too much, too much all at
once.
Achilles hustled down to the boiler room, using the keys Jim had
given him, and was disappointed to find no one there. Oh well, he
thought, there was always tomorrow.
Thursday Jim noticed that Amy didn't show up to class, but Maria
was back to her normal biting self, meaner than ever if that was
possible. The day before she had even stopped by and made several
requests for certain items, the better to torture her teacher with. He
thought about Amy and Achilles again, and thought that that boy didn't
look like much, but he certainly had a certain something. Sara was
coming along real well too: she got off on everything he did to her, no
matter how painful and humiliating. He was hoping Achilles could get Amy
to fall in line soon, since he would love to tear off a piece of that
cunt too. Amy and Sara and Maria all together: those were the stuff of
dreams.
Amy knew better than to play sick with Achilles, even if it
worked with her parents. She didn't know what he had planned, but she
dreaded it with a passion, and at the same time some bizarre quirk in
her, some small part in her mind, anticipated it, wanted it. She was
everything bad, this small part of her self told her: she was a
murderess, a bigot, swollen with pride; not only that, but also a slut, a
horny cunt who came whenever some man beat her. It was only a small part
of her mind which told her these things, but it got louder and louder as
she approached Achilles' house.
She arrived and was met at the door by Achilles, who immediately
led her up to his room and locked the door. He kept her standing as he
sat down on his bed and looked her over; she shuddered under his gaze,
remembering the last time he had seen her.
"That was quite a show you put on yesterday," his voice startled
her so that she jumped a little. He frowned, "That's bad. I'm supposed
to punish you, not bring you off." She blushed at his remarks, her pale
skin turning a dark crimson as shame washed through her. She remained
silent.
"Well, we can't have you enjoying your punishment, can we? Can
we!" he shouted.
"N...n...no," she stuttered, her head down, her arms straight and
crossed before her.
He leaned back, "So tell me, what part of your punishment did you
enjoy?"
She looked at him for the first time since she had arrived, anger
and desperation suffusing her body, "None!" she shouted, "I hated it all;
it was horrible, just horrible," she finished, her emotion subsiding to
an almost pleading desire for belief.
Achilles smiled mockingly, "Well, for someone who hated every
moment of what happened to her, you gave a good impression of fucking a
tree to orgasm." Then he noticed that she was crying silently, standing
before him dressed in a summer dress and looking so much like a little
girl. Standing, he went over to her and reached under her chin, lifting
her face up until he was looking directly into her eyes.
"You did hate it, didn't you," he said softly.
"Y...yes," was whispered.
"But you came too; I know you did."
"Yes."
"You hated coming; you hated feeling like that. I'm right,
aren't I?"
"Yes."
"Why?" A simple question.
Sobbing silently now, she broke away from him and sat down hard
onto the floor. "I'm so bad," she choked out. "I...I deserved
everything you did to me. It felt so good. It's evil. Horrible.
I...I'm no good...for anything...like a whore. I don't wanna be who I
am." She started sobbing for real now, her face buried in her hands.
Achilles watched her for a moment, pity warring with elation in
his mind. He was surprised at how quickly she had broken, but then again
he had been surprised that she had orgasmed the other day. Now was the
time to build her back up, to build her back up into the person he wanted
her to be. Careful, he thought to himself, careful or the old
personality will reassert itself. I must incorporate that personality,
he thought, must allow it free reign somewhere. Thinking furiously, he
knelt down beside her and held her, soothing her the same way he would a
small child, cooing to her "my little princess" over and over again.
When her sobbing had abated somewhat he lifted her chin again
until he looking into her big, beautiful blue eyes, glistening with
tears, and spoke to her in short, comforting sentences, telling her she
didn't have to be bad, telling her he could help her, that he loved her
and wanted what was best for her. The problem, he suggested, watching
carefully for her reactions, was that she had no structure in her life;
he could change that. She would have to trust him. He would take
everything bad about her, her pride, her lust, her fear, and wall it away
from her, keep her safe from it. Only he would have to see her like
that, and he would control her then, if she only let him. He could
handle it; only trust him. Trust him.
He talked for over an hour like that to her, calm and
reassuring. He was right, she knew: she couldn't trust herself
anymore; she could trust him, though: he loved her. To be like she was,
calm, confident, sure of herself--how she wished she could be like that
again. She could, he was telling her. She could be her old self,
without all that had corrupted her, made her filth. She was two
different people, she understood, Amy Sanders--the good, strong, woman
who was going to college and was going to be a success--and someone else,
someone who associated with murders and covered up her crimes and was
swollen with pride and arrogance and was a slut who couldn't control her
own body. She understood what he was saying: to the outside world she
could be Amy Sanders, but to him she would release the dark side of
herself so that it couldn't get out and contaminate her, and he would
punish that dark side of her. Yes, she wanted that; she did, she really
really did.
"Do it," she said, "help me."
Hearing the magic words, Achilles stood up and walked in front of
his bed and said, "Stand up. You understand what you have to do, Amy? I
will be like your confessor: everything bad that you do or think I will
punish, every twinge of lust I will expiate, but you must bring them all
to me. You must not hide them away like you did before or they will
destroy you like they almost did before. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she said, relief at this release of her burden
invigorating her, and she felt a surge of happiness for the first time in
days.
"Okay then, in order to do this correctly, we have to make some
rules, yes?"
"Yes."
"You have to obey everything I tell you to do without question.
Understand?"
"Yes."
"And when you're with me your name will be Princess. Tell me
your name."
"Princess."
"You will call me master at all times. Now, what is your name."
"Princess, master."
"That's enough for now; let's begin."
"Yes master."
His cock was already as hard as a rock as he walked slowly around
her like a disapproving drill seargent. Amy Sanders was finally and
truly his! All his to do whatever he wanted to, and he knew what he was
going to do to her today--thank god his parents were out of the house
until seven tonight.
Amy's heart fluttered as Achilles walked around her, looking her
up and down. She felt freed in some bizarre way; now she didn't have to
be in control. Later she would be, but now all she had to do was
whatever Achilles, her master, told her too. It was liberating, because
she no longer had to be afraid of what she would do--her master would
take care of it. It would all come out, she knew, her uncontrollable id
which so recently had taken over her life, would come out to be punished
and mastered, and then to retreat so that she could live a normal life
until she needed her master to tame it again, to tame her, to tame
Princess. He would let Princess out and keep her away from her, Amy
Sanders. No, she thought, I am Princess, and she felt a tingling in her
groin at the thought, and she squeezed her thighs together. I'm bad, she
thought, I'm bad and need to be punished. Punish me, master, punish
Princess she thought.
He came back around until his face was inches from her, and he
barked out, "Strip." Her gaze locked by his, she did what he commanded,
baring her young, firm, nubile body to him. He stepped back and looked
at her, at her strong nose dominating her face, her kinky blond hair
falling past her shoulders, her firm, perky breasts with their perfectly
porportioned nipples, her slender waist and almost skinny but perfectly
formed legs, her blond curling pubic hairs and her dull, thin lips. All
his, he thought, feeling his cock throb in his pants.
"I saw you fuck that tree yesterday, Princess, you slut," he
growled out. "I've never seen anyone fuck a tree before. Did you like
it Princess? Did you like fucking that tree."
"Yes master."
"You know what that make you, don't you cunt? It makes you a
fucking worthless slut!"
"Yes master," she said with her chin trembling.
"Say it!"
"I'm a fucking worthless slut, master."
"Spread your legs, Princess."
She obeyed him, feeling dirty and slutty and worthless, spreading
her legs until she was standing with her feet three feet apart. It made
her feel exposed, standing naked before him with her legs spread like
this, but that excited her, excited Princess. Amy Sanders would never do
this, she thought, Amy is such a good girl. She trembled inside with
pleasure. She felt his hands, her master's hands, against her shoulders
as he gripped them firmly, sending an electric thrill through her body.
She felt her vaginal--her cunt--lips begin to swell and moisture begin to
form between her legs. He was making Princess hot, staring into her eyes
and holding her by the shoulders and she almost whimpered in desire as
she stood there. She was so bad.
She felt his hands jerk her toward him an instant before blinding
pain flashed through her groin as his knee jerked viscously into her
cunt. She doubled over, all feelings of sexual excitement fleeing, and
dropped her hands to protect her throbbing sex.
Still holding onto her shoulders, she heard her master say, "You
deserved that, didn't you, you dirty cunt?"
"Y...yes master," she whined, pain taking her breath away. And
she knew that she did deserve it. All dirty sluts deserved to be treated
like the pieces of meat they were, and they shouldn't forget it.
His hands forced her to her knees and she landed with a thump,
her groin still in agony over his unexpected blow. "My little Princess
wanted to be fucked, just like the slut she is, but I don't think you
deserve to be fucked, do you slut?"
"No master." The pain was finally abating somewhat, although her
whole groin throbbed as if bruised. She groaned as she straightened up
onto her knees and saw that her master was removing his clothes. She
watched in fascination as he undressed: he didn't look like much, she
thought, until he removed his underwear, when she saw the largest cock
she had ever seen.
Achilles smiled when he saw her eyes widen at the sight of his
penis. "Do you want to touch my cock, Princess?"
She was fascinated by it; Amy Sanders had never seen a penis that
size: it was at least two inches longer and an inch thicker than any
penis Amy had seen. Princess licked her lips--poor Amy, she wasn't going
to get any of her master's cock. "Yes master," she said, not taking her
eyes off his cock, "Princess wants to touch your cock."
"Does Princess want to suck my cock?"
She was taken aback for a second; it was so large, and she had
never done it before--at least Amy hadn't. But Amy wasn't a filthy whore
like Princess was, and Princess found herself salivating at the chance to
put that enormous cock in her mouth. "Yes master," she hissed, "let me
suck your cock."
"Crawl over here and beg," he said sitting down onto the edge of
the bed.
She crawled over between his legs, her breasts swinging heavily
beneath her, her groin throbbing now more with excitement than pain.
"Please master, let me suck your beautiful cock. I want it so bad.
Princess is a worthless dirty slut and wants her master's cock in her
mouth. Please master, let me suck your cock."
His wildest fantasies had come true: here was Amy Sanders, on
her hands and knees, naked, and begging to blow him. He grabbed her head
and forced it against his cock, sighing in pleasure as she wrapped her
lips around his dick and began to suck him.
He felt so large in her mouth, she thought as she sucked his cock
into the warm, wet confines of her oral cavity--salty, too. It felt
good, too, to be on her knees with her master's cock in her mouth; a slut
like her should have a cock in her mouth at all times. As she sucked,
gripping the shaft, she thought of it in her cunt, reaming her out,
stretching her wide, and she felt a thin trail of moisture drip down the
inside of her thigh. She squeezed her thighs together, pleasure
beginning to consume her body, and thought of even fouler pleasures:
what if he put his cock in her ass? A slut like her, like Princess,
would love a big cock in her ass. She gasped out around the prick in her
mouth as a small orgasm blossumed in her cunt. Amy Sanders would never
get fucked in the ass.
Achilles sat back and enjoyed every minute of the blow job he was
getting from his dream girl. He moaned as she sucked her cheeks in to
massage his dick as she bobbed her head up and down while running her
hand along his shaft and down to his balls. Her tongue scraped along the
bottom of his cock, the tip occasionally teasing her vein just under the
circumcised head. He would have to teach her to deep throat, he thought
as he felt the pressure begin to build up in his balls, but for now she's
doing fine. It was even better that she was getting into it so much; he
could have sworn she had had an orgasm just a minute ago.
She felt his cock begin to expand and his hands grip the back of
her head, forcing more of his dick into her mouth. He was going to come,
Princess thought, he was going to shoot his come into her mouth--she
trembled in pleasure, sucking harder and running her fingers under his
balls to press hard against the soft flesh there.
Achilles bellowed as he felt her fingers press against the soft
skin between his anus and his balls, and he shot wad after wad of come
into her willing, sucking mouth, gasping in pleasure as she continued to
work his sensitive knob.
Princess felt his come splatter against her throat and she
swallowed greedily, sucking down each blast of his come and luxuriating
in the feel if it sliding slickly down her throat. She was such a slut,
such a whore, she thought, to be doing this, and felt another small
orgasm shake her as she squeezed her thighs together once more. She kept
sucking on his cock until he became flacid and pushed her head away. She
looked up at him expectantly: she was a good slut, wasn't she?
Achilles looked in amazement down at the doglike expectancy on
Amy's face as she gazed up at him, her mouth slightly open in what was
unmistakably excitement. He had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams with
her. "You've been a good bitch, you have," he said, patting her on the
head. "You deserve a reward. Get up on the bed."
She eagerly obeyed and laid on her side watching him as he went
over to his closet and took down a large box, rummaged through it, and
pulled out a large dildo--it was even larger than his cock, she saw,
amazed. It must have been twelve inches long and two thick, she thought,
growing excited at the mere thought of taking that up her twat.
"Here you go, Princess, play with this while I take some
pictures." She grabbed it eagerly as it landed on the bed and rolled
onto her back, spreading her legs and running the enormous dildo against
her swollen labia, moaning and gasping in pleasure as she teased herself
to further arousal.
Achilles pulled out his camera and began taking pictures--he
didn't want to forget this, his first night with Amy Sanders. Besides,
she was so sexy like that, in the throws of passion.
Princess could hear the sound of her master's camera as she
spread her labia with one hand and eased the monster dildo in with the
other, but it just excited her more; she was going to be on film; he
could show any of his friends how nasty and sluttish she was. Yes, she
thought as she slid the dildo into her gaping cunt until it bumped
against her cervix, leaving a full three inches outside her snatch. She
moved her free hand and began playing with her clit as she slowly worked
the dildo around in her cunt, pleasure assaulting every nerve in her
body. She began to writhe and moan as the sensations built, puntuated
each time she slammed the dildo hard against her cervix, sending pleasure
cascading up her spine. She could feel a tremendous orgasm build within
her guts, and she mashed down on her clitorus, trying to bring it now,
now--so close.
Rough hands grabbed the dildo from her and ripped it from her
cunt and knocked her other hand away from her clitorus. Her body
jacknifed up in unfulfilled lust and she screamed "NOOOO!!!" trying to
bring her hands back to her clitorus, trying to achieve the most
incredible orgasm she had ever had which was just a touch away. A sharp
slap shocked her out of her sexual frenzy as her head was knocked back
onto the bed and to one side, stunning her and sending her orgasm
fleeing. She moaned in sexual torment, wanting, needing, any release
now. Another slap knocked her completely back to her senses--god, she
was so hot, needed it so badly, but now she was looking into the eyes of
her angry master, partially obscured by her kinky blond hair which had
flown wildly about her head.
"What did you say to me cunt?" he growled angrily, leaning over
her and holding her down on the bed by her shoulders.
"P...please...master..."
"What did you say to me?" He made his voice even angrier.
"...no...master."
"YOU DON'T EVER SPEAK BACK TO ME AGAIN, YOU STUPID CUNT!" he
screamed, jerking her off the bed by her head and dragging her to the
foot of it.
"Please master, please," she begged, scared now as he threw her
onto her knees so that she was bent over the end of the bed, her ass in
the air. He placed one hand against her neck, forcing her head into the
mattress, and grabbed a large paddle with the other.
WHACK! She screamed as he brought the paddle down as hard as he
could against the back of he thighs.
WHACK! She screamed again as the paddle struck her ass cheeks
with tremendous force.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Again and again he
brought the paddle down against her ass and her thighs until they were a
deep red from the beating and she was sobbing into the mattress. He
released her for a minute and returned, spreading her asscheeks, bringing
a loud sob from her throat.
She was miserable; her ass and thighs were a mass of fiery, throbbing
pain. She should never had talked back to her master, but she had been
so close, so close and he had taken it away from her. She still felt,
even after the beating, and aching emptiness in her cunt, a yearning for
an orgasm. What was he doing? She felt a coolness around her anus as he
smeared grease over her sphincter. He was going to fuck her in the ass!
The thought drove some of the pain away. He beat her and then he was
going to shove his fat cock up her ass--it was so perverse, so dirty, so
nasty, she felt her cunt twitch and the pain in her ass and thighs burn
hotter.
She felt the head of his cock press against her anus as his
fingers roughly dug into her throbbing asscheeks. It felt like she was
taking the biggest shit of her life, but it didn't hurt thanks to the
copious amount of grease he had used. She felt it slide slowly in, every
single inch, filling up her guts until she thought she was going to
explode. It felt so strange having a cock up her ass, so filling.
Achilles grunted as he popped his cock through her tiny brown
sphincter, watching intently as he slid it slowly into her guts. Damn
she had a tight ass, he thought, as he bottomed out, his hips pressing
against her spread ass cheeks. He leaned over her until he could whisper
in her ear, and began whispering that she loved having a cock in her ass,
what a slut, what a whore, that she was no better than a piece of fucking
meat to take his cock wherever he wanted to put it, that she was a
worthless slut to get off on this, and more. He slowly pulled his hips
back until only the head of his cock was still in her ass, and then
pounded forward.
The things he was whispering to her, oh god, she thought, sliding
her hand down to her clitorus and mashing it between her fingers; it was
so hot, so good. Her mouth opened into an O of surprise and pleasure as
she felt his cock slowly slide out from her ass, feeling like it was
dragging her guts with it. It felt so strangly good. She imagined Amy
getting used like she was, and that excited her more: goody-two-shoes
Amy getting beaten and fucked like some piece of meat--she grunted in
passion.
Achilles slammed his cock in and out of Amy's tiny asshole,
reveling in the sensations assaulting his penis. It was so tight and
clinging, and he was still turned on from his paddling of her. God, he
thought, Amy Sanders, letting me pound her ass then letting me fuck her
up the bum, and loving every minute of it. He felt, deep in his groin,
the beginning tingle of what he knew was going to be a tremendous orgasm.
Princess was practically out of her mind now. The twin
pleasures, so different, from his cock in her ass and her fingers on her
clit were driving her wild. She grunted in time with his viscous thrusts
and drool spilled from her gaping mouth. Her whole body felt like it was
on fire; even her breasts which were being rubbed achingly back and forth
against the bed as her body jerked to her master's thrusts. She had
begun trembling she didn't know when, the pleasure so overwhelming, but
she drove her fingers harder against her clit, knowing that with a
little more, just a little more, she could go even higher.
It started in her ass as her master drove his tool deep into her
guts. It felt as if a cool wave of pleasure washed over her body,
causing her to jerk convulsively and jam her nails hard into her clit,
sending shooting sparks of pleasure flashing through her overworked
nerves. She felt these two pleasures build into a crescendo, becoming
more and more intense, making her body rigid in anticipation, then
sending it into wildly jerking spasms as the most incredible orgasm
literally burst through her ass and groin, sending her wailing and
thrashing under her master.
Achilles felt her ass spasm around his cock and felt the pressure
in his own groin reach a breaking point: any minute now, he thought,
moaning at the intense pleasure. He grabbed onto her hair as he felt her
body begin to jerk beneath him, and groaned as her ass began sucking at
his cock. He held on for dear life, hands tight around her skull, cock
buried to its limit in her ass, as her body became a bucking bronco
beneath him and her as a sucking, grasping, greedy oriface, trying to
devour him. His yell matched hers as his cock spat out its come deep
into her bowels, filling her with his seed. He held on, overwhelmed with
pleasure as her ass kept squeezing and milking his cock while her body
trembled and jerked beneath him.
He lay on top of her for a full minute until her trembling
subsided and he could work up enough energy to move. Slowly he pushed
himself off of her and winced as his sensitive cock popped from her ass.
"Okay, Princess, get dressed and go home. I want to see you in the
orange grove tomorrow, though. Don't disappoint me." With that, he
staggered into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face.
Princess lay there, her senses reeling from her orgasm, and
listened to what her master said. No, she thought dizzily, she wouldn't
disappoint him. She got up and quickly dressed, giggling as she left her
master's house: wouldn't Amy be pissed when she found that she'd have to
clean up after her. All that yummy come leaking out of her asshole right
now and running down the back of her thighs--poor little Amy. She giggle
again as she thought about it.

Amy was pissed off when she got home: that bitch Princess hadn't
even bothered to clean herself off before she came home. Now she would
have to clean the cum from her asshole and wipe it away from her thighs;
the taste in her mouth was nasty, too. Still, she thought, it was better
than before, with Princess threatening to take over her life at any
moment and destroy her. Now Princess would only come out when Achilles
told her to; she was disgusted at the things Princess allowed Achilles to
do to her--how could she like that?--but better her than me, she
thought. She washed up, feeling good for the first time in weeks; the
old Amy Sanders, the winner, was back.
Friday rolled around, and Maria couldn't concentrate on
anything. She had spent the last few days reading various bondage books
and magazines and watching bondage videos, trying to learn the best way
to torture her bitch of a teacher, Ms. Sara Ellsworth. She had
formulated a plan which, she thought, would give her the most
satisfaction and her teacher the most pain. All she could do, all day,
was imagine what it would be like, punishing Ms. Ellsworth until she
screamed.
Jim spent part of the day down in the boiler room of the school
preparing things for Maria and Sara. It took a while to get everything
in place, but he wanted everything to be perfect. He had told Maria that
Sara was all hers to use today, neither he nor Achilles would interfere.
Still, he thought, if what Achilles had told him this morning was true,
he wouldn't have to go without pussy while he watched Sara get hers. He
smiled as he thought about it and rubbed his cock through his jeans; if
Achilles had really managed to turn Amy into a piece of fuck meat he was
prepared to be impressed. Besides, he had always wanted to ream out that
cold bitch of a teenager.
Princess met Achilles in the orange grove after school as he
commanded her to, wearing a short skirt and blouse, and was surprised
when he led her immediately back toward the school from the rear. She
was even more surprised when he led her down into the bowels of the
school, using a keyring of keys to let him past several locked doors.
Nothing, though, prepared her for what she saw when Achilles led her into
the boiler room, dodging overhead pipes until they made it into a clear
area. Before her eyes, she saw one of her teachers, Ms. Ellsworth,
standing naked, spread-eagled with her arms chained to overhead pipes and
her legs chained to eye-hooks screwed into the concrete floor. Two
cameras, one facing her from the front from an angle, and the other from
the back at the same angle, stood on tripods focussed on her and the
janitor, a big black man, who was running his hands all over her nude body.
Sara's eyes widened in surprise as she saw, who was it, Amy, Amy
Sanders, follow Achilles into the boiler room. Oh God, she thought, not
another one, but she also grew more excited. She had known that today
was not going to be the standard torture and fuck day, since she had been
tied there for at least half of an hour and Jim still hadn't fucked her,
hadn't even hurt her. All he did was run his hands gently over her body
and rub his own prick through his pants, driving her wild with desire.
She could barely move, though, chained as she was. Another girl,
though--she had never had another girl; the thought turned her on as she
watched Amy stare at her in surprise. Such a beautiful young woman, Sara
thought, thinking of what Jim might have planned for her, for them, and
growing more and more excited.
Princess gasped and looked at Achilles, who seemed completely
unperturbed. "I've brought you here," he said placidly, "for two
reasons. First, to show you what will happen to you if you ever disobey
me.. Second, since Jim and I may or may not be using Sara today and her
punishment is sure to turn us on, you're here for both of us to use. Do
you understand?"
"Yes master," she said, and she did understand. Her master was
going to share his little slut Princess with his big black friend: she
trembled inside as she thought of it. To watch that woman's
debasement--she admired her trim, firm body with its luscious
curves--while being used by someone she didn't even know: she shuddered
in excitement, feeling her cunt grow moist and tingly.
"Why don't you go and beg Jim to give him a blowjob? I'll go and
get the show started." With that, he headed toward a remote, hidden
corner of the room.
Princess licked her lips and, placing her hands behind her back,
walked nervously over to Jim: he was huge, intimidating, the way he
grinned down at her while he absently tweaked Sara's breast. She moved
really close to him, feeling arousal rise in her sluttish body at the
nearness of such a man, and looked up into his dark face. "Please master
Jim, please let me suck your big, hard cock. Please fill my mouth with
your hot come; let me taste every inch of your prick. Please," she
whined one final time.
Looking down at this young white cunt begging to blow him, Jim
was amazed: Achilles had done quite a job on her. "Well, little girl,"
he said, "take off all your clothes and kneel in front of that table over
there," motioning to the side where he had set up a table for him and
Achilles to watch the action. He smiled as she quickly disrobed and
kneeled before the table. Giving Sara's tit one last slap, he slowly
undressed and then headed over to see how well Achilles' bitch could suck
dick.
Sara couldn't believe her ears: they may or may not fuck her?!
What was going on? They bring in this slut--she couldn't believe how Amy
was acting--and say they were only going to watch? Watch what? What was
going to happen to her? She wanted to ask, but was afraid, afraid of
being hit and afraid of the answer. For the first time since she had
given into her passion for pain and degredation, she began to feel
apprehension.
Maria sat in the corner of the boiler room, fear, nervousness,
and anticipation struggling within the pit of her stomach. She had
put on her costume fifteen minutes ago and put all her torture devices in
a small leather bag; now she was waiting, wondering whether she had the
courage to go through with this. If she could just have the bitch
alone, or even if she could just hurt the bitch normally, but Jim had
insisted she do it his way, with certain liberties allowed her. She
realized that Jim and the partner he had talked about would probably
want to fuck her: could she go through with this? Then she thought about
what Ms. Sara Ellsworth had done to her: she had had her raped by three
boys. It had shattered her life; she could not forgive that. It was
payback time, she thought, and a rightous anger filled her: what she
was going to do to that fucking cunt.... Anything was worth that, anything.
She was startled when Achilles stuck his head around the edge of
a large boiler and told her it was time before dashing off to take his
place in this little drama. She breathed in deeply and stood up on the
three inch spike heels she was wearing, picked up her bag in one hand
and a three foot, very flexible, reed switch in the other, and walked
toward the center of the room.
The first thing she noticed when she stepped into sight of Sara,
Achilles, and Jim, was the brightness of the room. Periphrilly she saw
Achilles standing naked behind one of two cameras set up in the room,
pointing it at her, and she saw Jim, sitting on a low table to her right
with his hand on the back of a naked blond girl's head getting a
blowjob. These sights, though, were mere distractions to her; in the
middle of the space, standing tied spread-eagled, was Ms. Sara Ellsworth,
a look of shock and terror on her face as she saw and recognized Maria.
An expression of pure hate twisted Maria's features as she squared her
shoulders, set down her bag, and strolled meaningfully over to face her
teacher.
Jim was sitting enjoying a pretty good blowjob from Achilles'
slut, thinking that what she lacked in experience she sure made up for in
enthusiasm, when he caught sight of Maria as she strode out of the
shadows toward Sara. She was a vision of a bondage goddess, Jim thought,
eyeing her with deep appreciation and lust. Her legs were encased up to
mid thigh in high-heeled leather boots, making them seem even shapelier
and longer than they already were and focusing attention on pair of
small, leather panties with barely covered her patch of pubic hair. Her
upper thighs and firm stomach were creamy olive in color up to her belly
button before the rest of her waist was cinched firmly in by a black
bodice which lifted and squeezed her overfull breasts together and up,
revealing the tops of her mounds almost down to her nipples. Her face
was the only thing which jarred with the image of a leather goddess in
his mind: it was young, a fifteen year old's face thickly done up in
harsh makeup. Dark red lipstick brought out the fullness of her mouth
and lips; a base smoothed her already smooth skin; heavy black eyeliner
and eyelash thickener made her dark eyes darker. Jim watched as she
moved with the sureness of a tiger ready to pounce, feeling his balls
contract and approach orgasm at the very sight of her.
Sara was stunned. Maria, Maria would kill her, she thought. She
was terrified of Maria; Maria had reason to hate her, to hurt her. She
glanced wildly over at Jim, who only smiled cruelly, and then at
Achilles, who was hidden behind a camera. Oh god, she thought, don't let
this happen, as she tried to cower away from the girl she had had raped
and broke out in a sweat.
Maria saw the fear in Sara's eyes and a feeling of absolute power
welded to joy flowed through her. All hers, she thought, this bitch was
all hers.
"Please," Sara wimpered softly, begging for Maria not to do what
she knew Maria was going to do.
"SHUT UP!" Maria yelled viscously, bringing the switch down
blazingly fast and hard against the outside of Sara's left breast. Sara
bit her lip and cried out inwardly, barely suppressing a shout of pain as
agony ripped through her.
"SHUT UP!" Maria yelled again, a fury overtaking her as the pent
up tension of her wait, and her hatred of this woman broke forth,
spilling over into a rapid series of blows across Sara's tits with the
switch.
<WHACK> <WHACK> <WHACK> <WHACK> <WHACK> went the switch as it
landed again and again against Sara's breasts. She clenched her teeth as
pain coursed through her, each blow feeling like it was tearing a piece
of flesh from her breast. She finally screamed when Maria struck her
across the nipple, pain exploding across her chest and darkening her mind
as she trembled and shook against her bonds. "AAAAHHHHHHGGGGG!" she
cried, "Please stop! Stop! AAAAAAAAAAA!" as the beating seemed to go on
forever. Finally Maria stopped, panting in released rage, and Sara hung
limply against her arms for a moment, the burning pain in her breasts
seeming to spread across her entire torso. She moaned as it reached her
groin and she felt herself grow moist: even this? she thought to
herself, trying to regain her footing.
Princess was happily sucking on Jim's large black cock, not as
large as her master's, she thought pridefully, thinking about how debased
she was. It excited her to think that here she was, an upper middle
class white girl was on her knees servicing a big black stud like
Jim--and he was a janitor! Her master knew what he was doing when he
brought her here; she needed to be treated like this, like some common
whore. She heard the clacking of heels on concrete and wanted to turn
her head, but Jim's hand was in her hair and his cock was in her mouth so
she couldn't look. Still, she felt Jim's excitement and clenched her
thighs together, feeling her juices begin to drip sluggishly down her
inner thighs, with the thought that soon he would fill her mouth with
come. She started when she heard shouting and the viscous whacking sound
of flesh being struck followed by screams of pain, but turned her attention
more eagerly toward teasing the come from the cock in her mouth, for she
felt his cock begin to expand slightly in her mouth and his hand tighten
on the back of her head. Suddenly he groaned and large wads of his come
splattered against the back of her mouth, and she swallowed eagerly,
luxuriating in the feel of his come sliding slickly down her throat. She
squeezed her legs together and felt the small bloom of an orgasm rush
through her body; it was so good, so good to be doing this, to be treated
like this.
Maria panted with exertion as Sara struggled to regain her feet.
She lowered the switch and, turning, put it on the ground next to her
leather bag. Opening the bag, she pulled out a two foot long gleaming
stainless steel needle, sharp on both ends, which she held in the palms
of both hands as she showed it to Sara. She felt incredible: adrenaline
was coursing through her body, giving her an incredible rush and exciting
her beyond belief. She never would have thought that hurting another
person would give her such pleasure, but hurting Sara Ellsworth certainly
did.
"Do you know what I'm going to do with this, Sara?" she asked
silkily, holding the long needle before her eyes.
Sara could imagine a thousand things Maria might do, so she
begged, pleaded, "Please, please don't hurt me anymore," all the while
feeling the pain in her breasts turn into an erotic throbbing which made
her cunt run even more freely with its juices. She was scared and in
pain at the same time, and it was, she admitted in the back of her head,
and incredible turn on; but she didn't want any more pain, certainly not
the type of pain she knew Maria had in store for her.
She grimaced and gasped in pain as Maria gripped her left nipple
between her fingernails and pulled it away from her body, stretching it
into a small, dark red cone. She felt her blood pound through her
abused nipple and screamed "NOOOO! NOOOO! OH GOD NOOOO! DON'T!
PLEASE!" as she saw Maria bring the tip of the long needle against the
outside of her breast. Her screams turned into shrieks of pure agony as
Maria slowly pressed the needle into her distended nipple, piercing the
flesh as she inexorably drove the needle into her teachers nipple.
"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE!" Sara screamed
as she felt the needle tear through the tender flesh of her nipple and,
dragging the ripped flesh around its punture with it, tear out the other
side, completely piercing the small red bud topping her breast. She
quivered and shook and tried to pull her breast away from this torture,
but Maria held her tight between her fingernails, drawing even more blood
from the very tip of her nipple as they dug painfully into the nib of
Sara's nipple. The agony was excrutiating, narrowing her consciousness
down to that one small, tortured point on her body as she screamed her
throat raw. Finally the pain abated somewhat, dulling to a sharp
throbbing which drew ragged cried from her throat at each beat of her
pounding heart.
Maria released her teacher's nipple and looked with pleasure upon
her accomplishment: the needle neatly pierced Sara's nipple, two thin
streams of blood running down either side of her breast to join at its
base before drying just before reaching her naval. The very tip of the
nipple, where she had gripped it between her fingernails, was suitably
bruised and swollen, with blood and fluid oozing out through the torn
flesh. She reveled in the small cries of pain her teacher made, and
looked up into her eyes, smiling as she saw the agony and dismay etched
deeply on Sara's face.
"I'm not done yet," she said cruelly, still holding the needle
with her fingers, earning a look of complete terror from Ms. Ellsworth.
Achilles was excited beyond belief as he watched Maria
sadistically pierce her teacher's nipple and heard the screams of inhuman
agony torn from her throat; he was getting it all on tape, too, which
made it even better. He eagerly made his way over to were both Jim and
Princess, Jim still sitting on the table and his cock slowly beginning to
resusitate and Princess still kneeling on the ground beside Jim's leg,
were both entranced with the theater going on in front of them. He
quickly grabbed Princess by the hair and commanded her to stand up and
grab her ankles, whereupon he grabbed her hips and quickly thrust into
her sopping cunt, sighing at the feel of the soft folds of skin engulfing
his prick.
Princess was once again denied the sight of the woman's torture,
but the cock in her cunt assuaged that disappointment. The scene before
her had been so horrible, so twistedly erotic, that it had driven her to
another orgasm before her master had demanded use of her cunt. She heard
the woman's screams resume and knew that the girl was driving the spike
through her other nipple, the sounds of the woman's sexual agony bringing
her even closer to orgasm as her master's cock pounded her furiously from
behind, almost knocking her over with each thrust, only holding her up
with the firm grip his hands had on her hips.
Maria stepped back and viewed her handiwork, her cunt moist and
slick from her exertions. Both Sara's nipples were pierced through with
the single, long needle, the weight of which dragged both her breasts
down slightly. Two thin trails of blood, coming from each of her
nipples, had dried against her skin just before reaching her belly
button. The bitch herself was quivering in pain as she tried to maintain
her balance, low moans of agony coming from her throat each time her
shaking body made her breasts swing even a little bit.
Turning back to her bag, Maria pulled out a thin cord and tied it
tight to the center of the needle, between Sara's breasts, and,
feeding out line, walked about ten feet away draped the other end of the
cord over a pipe about head high. Slowly she pulled the cord tight,
earning a long, drawn out moan from her teacher, until the bitch's
breasts were distended into fleshy cones, the point of piercing of each
nipple beginning to bleed again under the tension of the rope. Maria
pulled it a little tighter then quickly tied it off.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA," Sara moaned as she felt her breasts
stretched into fleshy cones of meat; it felt like her nipples were going
to be ripped off by the pressure. The agony of the torture of her
breasts had spread throughout her body, which was tense and sweating with
strain, making her cunt burn with need. She couldn't help it; the worse
the pain became, the more her pussy demanded released, and now it was
burning with a need more torturous than the piercing of her nipples, her
juice slicking the insides of her thighs and dripping off from the sides
of her knees to form a small puddle on the ground between her legs.
"Please, please touch me," she begged as Maria returned carrying
a curious black box with a dial connected to three long wires ending in
small clamps.
"Oh, the whore wants to come?" Maria spat sarcastically, turning
to her audience. "Do you think this cunt deserves that pleasure? Well I
don't." It was better than she imagined; she had thought she only wanted
to torture the bitch, but making her beg for sex while she inflicted
torture after torture upon her was even better. She felt a thrill of
excitement as she clipped one of the clamps to the end of the needle
through Sara's nipples and another clamp through the other end. The
third clamp she held up before the bitch's eyes and smiled before
kneeling down right in front of her gaping, dripping pussy. Placing her
fingers just on the outside of the front of her snatch, Maria pulled her
labia apart, exposing Sara's clit, glistening with lubrication. She
quickly snapped the clip onto her teacher's clit and received a
satisfactory shuddering in response.
Oh god, Sara thought as the clamp closed tightly over her clit,
sending more shooting pain through her body, it had almost brought her
off. A little more and she would have come: how she needed to come!
She hung her head and strained against her chains, trying to bring
herself off, but it was no use. She looked up and saw Maria standing
before her holding four stick pins, having set the black box down on the
ground in front of her. She saw her tormentor kneel down and suddenly
turn the dial on the box, and she immediately felt its results. It felt
like a thousand tiny mules were kicking her nipples, breasts, clit, and
cunt as the electricity flowed into her body. It thrummed through her
sex and breasts, slowly increasing as Maria turned the dial. Her whole
body tensed to the pounding of the current and the throbbing of her blood
in her ears. She closed her eyes as the current transformed all the pain
in her body, turning it an agonizingly hightened sensation coursing
across her nerves.
She screamed as a sharp, tearing pain hit her breast, looking to
see Maria driving one of her pins down into the flesh of her breast.
Again the pain in her breast as Maria drove another pin into her; and
again with her other breast. Now her vision was fading into and out of
black as the sensations engulfing her body overwhelmed her: they were
not pain and they were not pleasure, just an unbearable screaming of
tortured nerves. Her whole body shook under the barrage of electricity,
her legs and stomach tense. The fourth pin entered her breast near the
nipple, and she screamed, not hearing her own voice, as she finally lost
control of her bladder, her warm urine splattering on the floor and
sprinkling her feet, ankles, and calves. Far awy, she felt hands on her
shoulders--she was floating in an agony of sensation--and she felt a deep
thumping at her pelvis as Maria kneed her in the groin. <Thump> <Thump>
<Thump> the knee pounded her sex, and she shrieked like a lost soul as a
hot, blistering wind swept through her tormented body, originating from
her cunt and coursing across the raw nerves of her body, sending her
thrashing against her bonds in an orgasm of pain. She shrieked and
shrieked, completely engulfed by this unbearable sensation which was both
agony and ecstacy, before darkness clouded her vision and she fell
heavily against her bonds, hanging from her arms in oblivion.

Princess watchedon her hands and knees with Jim's fat cock
reaming out her asshole as Sara shrieked in what was either incredible
agony or incredible ecstacy and collapsed into unconsciousness. She felt
the cock in her ass throb and fill her bowels with warm seed, setting off
a shuddering orgasm of her own. This whole afternoon had been so
obscene, she thought, and looked up again to see the girl, Maria, rub
herself through her leather panties. She came again as she superimposed
the image of Amy over the woman hanging in chains before this wanton
teenager. It was all too good to be true, too sexy, to erotic, to
pleasurable.
She relaxed on the ground as she watched Jim and her master take
down the cunt Sara, while Maria arranged a set of pillows on the floor
and, before laying down, roman style, on them, removed her panties,
sliding them over her long leather boots. The two men called her over
and handed her two towels and a bucket, telling her to clean up Sara and
the mess she had made, and to remove all the metal from her body.
She was her master's slave, and obeyed eagerly, awed by the
damage done to the woman's tits. Where each pin had penitrated was a
deep, dark, blue-black bruise, and her nipples, even after being cleaned
with an alchohol solution, looked mangled: she guessed they would take
at least a month to heal, if they healed at all. Once she finished
cleaning up the floor, her master told her to roll Sara onto her stomach
and tie her elbows and wrists together behind her back. She felt a
thrill of pleasure as she tightened the leather straps around the woman's
arms and wrists, feeling a surge of pleasure at this domination of
another cunt like her. She hoped her master would allow her to play with
this bitch; she really wanted to.
Maria gasped in pleasure as Jim expertly caressed her vagina with
his fingers, his other hand popping one of her large breasts from her
bodice and teasing the nipple. It had all been such a turn on, seeing
Sara take punishment like that, and she felt on the verge of orgasm.
"What do you want to do to her now?" Jim asked Maria, looking
down at the luscious, young piece of fuck-meat gasping and groaning under
his fingers. She was good, he thought, hot and good, and how he wanted
to fuck her brains out. Not now, though; there would be time enough for
that later.
"I wha...wha...want," she gasped out, beginning to loose herself
in pleasure, "I don't know what I want."
"Why don't you have her eat out your beautiful pussy," he
suggested, working his fingers faster on her clit and breast.
Make the cunt eat me, Maria thought, gasping under Jim's
attentions. "Yessss," she hissed, feeling her body tense in orgasm as
blinding flashes struck her vision as she came for the first time in her
life. She shuddered convulsively, pleasure flashing through her cunt and
breasts and legs, and then collapsed. "Yes," she said lazily, "wake the
bitch up so she can suck me off."
Jim grinned as he watched Maria orgasm, and then got up to help
with the resusitation of their sex toy. A few smelling salts and she
came right around, moaning and groaning as she did so.
Sara slowly came out of the darkness engulfing her, slowly came
back to the throbbing agony in her breasts and ache in her shoulders and
back, and the nagging, irritating itch in her clitorus. She was
exhausted and spent, hoping that they would ask no more of her, but
realizing that they had more in store for her by the tight binding of her
arms behind her back.
"Crawl on your belly, bitch," she heard Maria command, "crawl on
your belly to my pussy and pleasure me with your tongue." She looked up
toward the girl and saw that the dirty blonde, Amy, was sucking on
Maria's breasts, licking and suckling them lovingly with attention and
care. Achilles and Jim were standing to either side of the girl's legs,
both sporting large erections.
She groaned in dismay but guessed that she couldn't refuse, so
she turned her body until her head faced Maria and began pushing herself
forward with her legs, her legs spread like a frog and her sore breasts
scraping painfully over the rough concrete of the floor. She grimaced
and gasped as she felt the scabs on her nipples tear open, and rough pain
lance through her breasts. She didn't stop, though, even when she felt
the skin on her hips scrape off, or the skin on her shoulders tear and
begin to ooze blood. It seemed like eternity, but finally her head was
between the teenager's legs and her face barely and inch from her snatch.
Maria felt her excitement growing again as she watched her
teacher struggle across the floor, knowing that it was causing her
incredible pain. The little blond cunt sucking her breasts felt
wonderful, too, and she wished she could keep both of them, Sara and the
blond, for herself, but she knew she would always have to share them with
Jim and Achilles. She lay back in ecstacy as her teacher's tongue sent
sparks of sexual energy charging up and down her spine while the blond
spread pleasure through her nipples and breasts with her mouth. Only one
thing needed to be added, she thought, to make this perfect: "Achilles,
fuck the bitch up the ass."
The strong sent of Maria's sex excited her, even in her agony of
scratches and bruises, and she began licking the girls cunt with a deep,
masochistic pleasure. When she heard Maria's command to Achilles to fuck
her up the ass, she almost came in anticipation. One more person, she
thought, Maria was going to be just one more person to hurt and humiliate
her sexually, and she loved it.
Achilles didn't waste any time, quickly lining his throbbing cock
up with Sara's asshole and shoving it in. Soon he worked up to a steady
fucking motion which sent a wave of pressure building in his loins.
Jim watched, fascinated, as the four of them locked in a sexual
passion, Princess sucking avidly on Maria's breasts, Sara lapping eagerly
at her cunt, while Achilles stroked his hard member in and out of Sara's
ass. He went over to both camera's and made sure they both had good
angles of this action, especially when the mass of connected human flesh
began to quake and shudder in orgasmic release.
They still weren't done with Ms. Sara Ellsworth that afternoon
though. Maria commanded Sara to lie on her back with her ankles on
either side of her head while Amy squatted over her head, holding down
her ankles. Then, while Achilles slowly fucked Sara's gaping twat, and
Maria, on her knees, sank her cunt back onto Jim's hard tool, feeling how
good a man's penis could be inside her, she told Amy to pee into the
teachers mouth.
Following that, the men were worn out, so Maria did some whipping
and then commanded Sara to lick Princess's asshole. There followed
another hour of girl play, with Maria commanding, Princess demanding, and
Sara submissive and exhausted. The two men watched and made sure the
camera's caught everything.
That was just the beginning for Sara and Maria. Maria was
allowed to have her teacher alone three times a week, determined every
Friday, and the other days she could share with Jim, Achilles, and, if
Achilles decided, Princess. The times together with Jim and Achilles,
for she did not miss a day to further torment Sara or to satisfy her now
raging sexual appetite, she found fully satisfactory, for not only were
the two men excellent sexually, they had quite an imagination when it
came to abusing and humiliating her teacher. An added perk was that
when the blond, Princess, was present, she had the equivalent of a
cunt-slave she could order around, as well as one more instrument to
torture her hated teacher.
When alone with Sara, Maria came up with ingenious devices to
degrade her. Her favorite was once a week, she would put a leather hood
on her teacher, with only two small holes for her nostrils and a large
hole for her mouth, and, with her wrists tied behind her back, took her
out to an abandoned shack near the orange groves. There she would invite
a group of boys from the high school, who would pay her $50 for the
invitation, to come and use the cunt any way they wished. With twenty or
so boys every time, Sara got fucked in every hole at least fifteen times
each, with Maria watching and enjoying every minute of it.
Sara, for her part, enjoyed everything done to her, even though
she soon had to quit her job because she seemed to always be worn out
from the sexual activities Maria, Jim, and Achilles put her through. She
had become what she had secretly wanted to become all her life, a pure
fucking machine, taking pleasure whenever it was offered. This time of
use and degradation was the happiest time of her life.
Amy continued to do well in school, although it was remarked that
she became even colder and more intellectual with each passing day. She
did not care: soon she would be away in college and then on to a
successful career, thanks in part to Achilles. She did worry what she
would do with Princess when she left him, but figured she probably
wouldn't have any trouble finding a man to take care of that slut
wherever she went, knowing men.
Princess, for her part, loved her master and the way he treated
her. The inclusion of Jim, Sara, and Maria into their little world
merely excited her more, since she felt like nothing more than a
commodity to be used and then discarded, which was, she though, exactly
what a dirty cunt like her was. She dreaded being taken away from these
people by Amy, but figured, correctly, that Amy would have to find her
another master wherever she went, of she, Princess, would make things
very hard on Amy Sanders..
Achilles' schoolwork suffered a bit from all the sexual escapades
he was embarking on, but he really didn't care. He had three hot cunts
ready at almost any time to take his cock: one who worshipped him,
another to whom he could do anything, and a third one, young, lush, and
lovely, who was just learning how to fuck.
Jim, never satisfied with even a very good thing, plotted on how
to include yet another girl, preferably a freshman, into his little
scene. Now that he had had a taste of really young cunt in Maria and
Amy, he wanted to keep his supply steady. He moved in with Sara, and
figured he could keep her indefinately, and if he ever got tired of her,
he could just pass her around to his friends. All in all, everything was
going well.

THE END

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