PARKER21.TXT -- 3/3
TEACHER'S RANSOM
Part 3 of 3
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: This story involves quite a bit of sexual activity
which, if one were to examine it closely, might be
considered non-consensual. I suggest that you look deep
within yourself: if, during the course of such self-
contemplation, you discover that this sort of story would
offend you, then I suggest you stop reading. Now.
Copyright 1994 by Parker. Feel free to distribute as you will
(unaltered, of course), but be discrete.
=================================================================
The next few days passed very slowly for Marion.
Each one began in the same way: she would wake up cold and stiff in her
garage kennel. Sometimes Jimmy or one of the other men would come and take her
out in the morning. Other times, she would be forced to wait for them, huddled
on the cement floor, her slender neck encircled by the rough leather dog
collar.
Her collar.
It wasn't locked on; she could have removed it at any time.
But she didn't.
On those occasions where she wasn't released in the morning, the pressure
on her bladder would often force her to relieve herself in her kennel. The
humiliation never lessened, but she quickly became adept at stretching her body
and lifting her leg so that she could let loose a stream of piss without
getting too much of it on herself. And her keepers made certain that there was
always fresh newspaper on the ground.
Once released from her kennel, she was led into the house to the bathroom
where she would shower, brush her hair and apply makeup. Angela was constantly
critical of the way in which Marion wore makeup, and the blonde woman was
quickly "convinced" to change her style. By the end of the third day, she was
wearing rather a good deal more than she was used to wearing, but if it
prevented a caning... well, it was worth it.
And each day, a new set of clothing was laid out in the bathroom, waiting
for the captive school teacher to put it on. Tight corsets; various types of
stockings; push-up bras, half-cup bras, see-through bras; crotchless panties;
leather mini-skirts... always changing, always something new. Again, it was
clothing she would never have dreamt of wearing if she had the choice, but, of
course, she didn't have that choice. The only constant was the collar.
Once properly dressed and made up, she would be inspected by Angela and
then her day would begin in earnest. Much of her time, of course, was spent
fucking and sucking. Besides Angela and Jimmy, there were three other men who
were part of the kidnapping. Before Marion lost track late on the afternoon of
the third day, she figured that she was satisfying each of them at least twice
a day, usually with Angela watching and giving orders and instructions. Often,
Angela would punctuate those commands with the cane.
With the redhead's "encouragement", the blonde school teacher quickly
became proficient at the art of satisfying men with her mouth and pussy,
fucking and sucking more in those several days than she had in the previous two
years of her marriage with Donald. At least, it seemed like it. Perhaps the
worst thing about it was the fact that Angela was never satisfied with Marion's
efforts unless the blonde woman came. Hence, Marion repeatedly found herself
forced to masturbate to orgasm while performing the most disgusting acts. And,
in between the sex, Angela frequently forced her captive to play with herself.
It took a few episodes with the cane, but Marion gradually learned not only to
obey when Angela ordered her to come, but also that Angela was quite able to
tell when she was faking it, often with very painful results. The blonde woman
thus spent hours crouched at Angela's feet, masturbating herself to orgasm
after humiliating orgasm while the redhead read a book or watched television.
By the end of each day, her pussy lips were red and swollen from all the
attention they were getting, but she kept having orgasms. After a while, it
began to get easier and easier to make herself come, and, eventually, the
feelings of lust never entirely left her burning, aching pussy. Sometimes, late
a night, alone and chained in the hard darkness of her kennel, Marion would
masturbate herself to orgasm. She cried as she did so, wondering what she was
turning into, but she still did it. It was her only source of pleasure, of
comfort.
As well as the sex, Angela also forced her unwilling pupil to learn and
practice a number of humiliating poses, positions, mannerisms and gestures.
Under the threat of the cane, Marion was forced to learn how to walk in the
increasingly precarious pumps, her hips swaying and breasts thrust out in an
inviting fashion. She learned how to giggle like a bimbo every time her
mistress attempted the lamest joke. She was taught how to squat on her heels,
knees spread and hands clasped behind her neck, awaiting orders. And, worst of
all, Marion was trained to hold the position she had learned on the first day,
bent over with her hands grasping her ankles while the cane was brought down
onto her ass. This one was a favourite of Angela's, and Marion got lots of
practice. Her pussy was not the only part of her body that was regularly red
and swollen when she was locked into her kennel for the night.
While her training continued, Marion was kept in the dark about what was
happening with the kidnapper's attempts to ransom Sheila. She saw the teenager
once in a while - she was kept chained to a bed in the small bedroom - but was
never allowed to talk with her. Besides a black eye and a bruised, sullen
expression, the girl seemed largely unharmed, for which Marion was thankful.
Despite all that had happened, Marion still felt an elder's - a teacher's -
protectiveness towards the girl. One of the things - in fact, only thing - that
allowed her to bear her torments was the idea that by taking the kidnapper's
abuse, she was somehow protecting the teenager.
One morning, just over a week after the original kidnapping, Marion
entered the living room to find a very grim looking Jimmy awaiting her. Angela
was also there, also looking very sullen and angry. They looked like they had
been arguing. Trembling, the blonde woman assumed the squatting position she
had been taught, and awaited events. She'd learned not to ask questions.
"Hello Darling," Angela growled, obviously angry about something.
"Good morning mistress." Marion kept her eyes cast downward. Her voice
trembled; Angela's anger usually meant the cane.
"We've got a problem." The redhead began pacing, walking slowly around her
frightened, squatting captive. "Apparently your husband didn't believe your
letter. He's raised a fuss with the cops, and they're beginning to put two and
two together. That's attention we don't need. Do you understand?"
"Yes mistress." The blonde woman didn't really understand how anything
Donald was doing could affect her kidnappers, but she was too frightened to
question the redhead. In fact, she wasn't really listening. Marion's entire
attention was focussed on the cane which Angela was carrying in her hand. She
couldn't take her eyes off it.
"Jimmy's solution," Angela continued, "is the same as before. He wants to
cut off the loose ends." Marion shuddered; she knew what that meant. "He and
I..." Angela glanced angrily across the room at her partner, "... we've had a
'discussion' about it. We disagree, but I convinced him - not by much, mind you
- that there's a better way to solve the problem. A less drastic way."
Jimmy snorted from the other side of the room.
The redhead stopped pacing and stood directly in front of the trembling
blonde. "You do want that, don't you Darling?" She grasped the squatting
woman's cheeks in her hand and turned her face upwards. "You don't want us to
use drastic measures?"
Marion again found herself fighting back tears. "No mistress. Please...
what can I do?"
The redhead shot a satisfied grin over at her partner as she released her
captive's face.
"I'll tell you..."
And she told her.
Angela's plan was simple. It involved having Marion appear in public. She
thought that her captive's husband might be convinced that the letter was real
if Marion was seen in public with another man, or men, dancing and laughing and
generally having fun. She also thought that it would be fun to humiliate the
blonde woman in a public place. Jimmy expressed the opinion that it was too
risky, but Angela countered with the fact that they would still have Sheila at
the house. She made it very clear to Marion that should the blonde woman
attempt to escape, the first person to suffer would be the teenager. And,
considering the alternatives...
Marion got the picture.
And so, that same night Marion was dressed in real clothing for the first
time in over a week. Not clothing she would have chosen to wear on her own, of
course, but clothing nonetheless. Treating her like a living barbie doll, the
redhead dressed her captive up in a tight, black tube dress that barely covered
the bottom curve of her ass and the upper curve of her breasts. Sheer, white
stockings ran from just under the hem of the skirt to her feet. Six inch pumps
and lots of dangling silver jewellery completed the outfit.
Almost.
The collar remained.
Marion put her hand expectantly to it, but Angela just smirked and said
that the collar wouldn't be out of place where they were going. Silent and
submissive, Marion let them dress her up, just as though she were a barbie
doll. Her thoughts were a jumble of confusion. The thought of going out in
public both terrified and exhilarated her. The chance of escape! But, of
course, there was Sheila.
At last, Angela was happy with Marion's appearance.
"Perfect," she pronounced, dragging her blonde dress-up doll in front of
the bathroom mirror. "Darling's quite the little club slut."
The blonde woman stared silently at her reflection in the mirror, eyes
wide. Was that really her? The black tube dress was wrapped tightly around her
body, covering - if that was the right word - her skin from just above her
breasts down to just under the bottom swell of her ass cheeks. Her sheer, white
stockings, held up with clearly visible garters, served more to highlight her
sleek legs than to cover them up, all the more so with the way the pumps made
the muscles stand out in her calves and thighs. Her face was heavily made up,
almost in a punk style, and her blonde hair was teased up in a modern, slutty
look. The heavy, dangling jewellery on her wrists and ears, along with the dark
leather collar, put the final touches on her appearance. Marion fought back a
sob as she saw Angela's triumphant expression in the mirror behind her. She had
been transformed from a married, conservative school teacher into... well, she
wasn't sure what.
Not something she wanted to be.
Jimmy was suitably impressed and seemed happier with the whole plan as he
led Marion into the garage and seated her in the back of the van. A pair of
handcuffs were added to the collection of jewellery on Marion's wrists; her
hands were fastened to a rail and the van door was slammed shut. She sat in
darkness, trembling, as the engine started up and the vehicle began to move.
"You remember," Jimmy warned her, his hand tight and painful on her bare
upper arm. "Any trouble and Sheila's dead. And you too. Got it?"
Wincing in pain at his grip, Marion nodded.
The man stared at her for a second and then led her across the shadowy
parking lot towards the building. The bass throb of the music got louder as
they approached a heavy door. There was a lineup, but Jimmy seemed to know the
bouncers. One of them leered at Marion as Jimmy talked. Money changed hands and
then the two were allowed to enter. Jimmy pulled her in front of him and shoved
her into the main room of the club.
Marion was immediately overwhelmed with sensation. After a week of being
kept indoors a single house, of sleeping in a garage kennel, of seeing the same
four or five people day after day, the blonde woman was staggered by the press
of the crowd as it bounced and seethed in directionless violence on the dance
floor. Angela had been right about the collar. The club was fashionably punk,
and many of the patrons were dressed in that style. Collars were common, as
were clothespins, teased hair and heavy makeup. In her present dress, Marion
fit right in.
"C'mon," Jimmy yelled, pulling her through the crowd. "I'll buy you a
drink."
Helpless, Marion followed behind him as he bulled his way up to the bar.
Almost immediately, she noticed men looking at her lustfully. More than once on
the way to the bar, she felt unseen hands brush across her barely covered
breasts and ass. She squirmed, trying to avoid the unwanted attention, but she
was helpless to prevent it.
At the bar, Jimmy ordered two of something; Marion didn't hear what it
was. When the drinks arrived, he handed her one and told her to drink it down
quickly. She obeyed. Whatever it was, it was strong. Marion's throat burned and
she almost coughed it up. Laughing, Jimmy ordered another drink. And then
another. By the time she finished her third, Marion's head was beginning to
spin. The alcohol combined with the flashing lights and sweaty, throbbing music
to make her dizzy and disoriented. She staggered backwards, and only kept from
falling by grabbing another man's arm to steady herself. The man looked at her
and smiled, but Jimmy pulled her away.
"Let's dance," he mouthed, pulling her onto the dance floor.
Dizzy as she was, Marion followed him into the seething mass of dancers
and, at his prompting, began to bounce and twist more or less in time with the
music. Jimmy smiled in approval and, under the influence of the alcohol, she
began to relax a bit. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad. The loud, throbbing music
slowly overwhelmed her senses as she began to dance more emphatically.
And, as she danced, the burning feeling in her pussy began to grow. Slowly
at first, but definitely growing. Not really aware of what she was doing,
Marion slid a hand down the front of her stomach until it came to rest over her
crotch and began to buck her hips in time with the music. She closed her eyes
and let the feelings grow within her. For the past several days, she had been
forced to masturbate almost continuously (when not actually having sex), and
she did so now without really thinking about it. It just seemed natural.
In a world of her own, she spun slowly around the dance floor. Her hips
swayed sexily, in time with the music as she danced. One hand rubbed, with
increasing speed, up and down over her crotch, massaging her sopping pussy
through the thin material of the tube dress while the other combed through her
blonde hair, slid down her face, across her wet, pouting lips and then rubbed
up against her rock-hard nipples. Her breathing became harsh and ragged as the
passion began to build in her twisting, sweating body. She danced harder and
harder, rubbed harder and harder as the feelings built... built... built... and
finally, she came. A loud moan escaped her parted lips as an orgasm rolled over
her body in a single, massive wave of pleasure.
When the feeling finally ebbed, she opened her eyes.
Jimmy was nowhere to be seen. A small circle had opened up around her on
the dance floor and everyone was watching her. Men looked on with lusting,
hungry eyes while women just eyed her with a queasy contempt. With a gasp,
Marion looked down at herself, suddenly self-conscious. There was a large wet
spot on the front of her dress, just over the crotch, and her nipples were
clearly visible as they poked like hard little pebbles through the thin
material covering her breasts.
Someone laughed.
"Noooo..."
The blonde woman turned away, trying to cover or protect herself, but not
before another thrill of lust shot through her body. With a half-choked sob,
she realized that it was the humiliation itself that was causing her pussy to
become excited. What was happening to her?
Marion frantically tried get off the dance floor, but the crowd around her
slowly closed in, trapping her where she stood. Another song started, and she
was no longer the centre of attention. She tried to slip away, but one of the
men stepped up and began dancing directly in front of her.
"Hey, babe," he half-yelled, his upper lip glistening under the lights
"you look like you need a man." Confused, Marion shook her head, but the man
just put his arms around her neck and pulled her into his chest. The blonde
woman tried to break away, but the pressure of the bouncing, surging crowd was
too great. The dizziness, momentary forgotten, once again overcame her. With a
helpless sigh, she sagged forward, allowing the man to support her. He grinned
knowingly, pulling her even closer to his body while guiding her in a slow,
tight circle on the dance floor. Almost unconsciously, she let her hands fall
around behind his back. Tired, she closed her eyes and let him lead.
The dancing continued for a song or two. Slowly, as they danced, the man
became increasingly bolder with his hands. Keeping one hand around her neck, he
slid the other one down and cupped the curves of her ass. Only partially
conscious, she squirmed and let out a quiet whimper, but didn't really pull
away or protest; she was just too dizzy. Emboldened by her lack of protest, the
man slid his hand down her ass until he came to the hem of her dress. Careful
not to alert her, he tugged upwards, slowly pulling the dress up until her ass
was completely exposed.
"Ohh..."
Marion gave a start, and jerked her hips forward when she felt his bare
hand on her ass.
"Fuck," the man whispered, a grin spreading across his face. "No panties."
He slid his middle finger in between her ass cheeks and fingered the entrance
to her anus.
"No," she mumbled, slurring her words. "Don't..."
She tried to squirm away from his finger, but succeeded only in rubbing
her pussy up against his crotch. The spark of lust, which had been momentarily
dampened by her recent orgasm, burst into being again. Without realizing it,
she ground her hips against him, enjoying the sensations which emanated through
her body at the feel of him body against her crotch. He brought his lips
against her's for a kiss; a sudden warmth flooded over her as she opened her
mouth to welcome his tongue, all the time...
He slipped a finger into her anal passage.
"Noooo..." The sudden pain of the intrusion cut through the fog of lust,
and she remembered where she was.
And who she was.
With a strength born of fear and humiliation, she brought her knee
straight up, hard, into the man's groin. The effect was immediate; he let out a
loud groan and crumpled onto the floor in front of her. A few of the other
dancers looked over, but most of them ignored the disturbance. Marion put a
hand to her mouth to stifle a scream and backed away. A few steps later, the
man was out of sight, lost behind the crowd.
Frightened, the blonde woman took another step backwards, but the crowd
was too thick. She started to try to push people away, to free up some space,
but then froze as a set of arms reached around from behind her. She tried to
turn, but instead stumbled and fell back into the man reaching around her. In a
flash, the man had his hands on her breasts, squeezing and fondling. Marion
attempted to pull away, but the crowd was still too thick, and she couldn't get
her balance in the pumps. And the man kept holding her back. Marion let out a
cry as one hand kneaded and fondled her breasts while the other slid down to
her crotch. Terrified, looked around for help. A number of other people on the
dance floor were watching her, but she saw no help there. They just sneered,
and stared at her as her body responded automatically to the fondling hands.
It was too much for her. With a quick, violent twist of her upper body,
she broke away. Half running, she squirmed through the crowd and was almost off
the dance floor when she ran straight into another man.
"Hey," he said, holding her arms to steady her. "What's the hurry?" The DJ
was between songs, so they could converse without yelling.
Marion drew a deep breath, gathering her thoughts as best she could before
speaking. Her mind considered her options, while she glanced around for Jimmy.
The man was nowhere to be seen. Was this her chance? She briefly considered
Sheila, but decided that it was worth it. If the man would help her get to the
police, they would be there quickly enough to catch Jimmy before he went back
to the house. It was worth a try.
The music started up again, so she had to lean forward and speak almost
directly into the man's ear to make herself understood.
"I need your help," she told him. "Can we go somewhere?"
She glanced around, still worried that Jimmy might be watching, so she
didn't see the look on the man's face as he nodded. He took her hand in his own
and pulled her off the dance floor and towards an exit sign at the back of the
club. "Through here," he said, pulling her through a heavy curtain and into a
short hallway. The hallway led to a door and before long, the two of them were
standing outside, in a quiet alley behind the club.
Marion breathed a sigh of relief and looked around. "Thank you so much,"
she said. "I..."
Her sentence was cut off as the man brought his lips down against her's in
a passionate kiss. Surprised, she opened her mouth and let his tongue explore
the inside of her mouth for a few moments, enjoying the sensation, before
pushing him away. "D-don't," she stammered, her heart pounding in her chest.
"That's not what I..."
"I know what the fuck you want," the man growled, taking a handful of
blonde hair. "And I'm going to give it to you." Marion let out a cry as he used
his grip in her hair to propel her forward into the a low, iron rail fence
beside the doorway. Her cry was abruptly cut off as the railing slammed into
her stomach and drove the breath out of her lungs. Unable to breath, she
struggled weakly as the man forced her to bend over the rail and pulled her
dress up over her ass.
"Ha," he grunted, "no panties. What a slut."
Marion fought for air, wanting to struggle or, at least, scream, but she
couldn't draw a full breath. All she could do was squirm helplessly and gasp
for air as the man undid his zipper and placed his rigid cock up against her
pussy. To her shame, it was sopping. She couldn't help it.
The man laughed. "Guess I was right about you, bitch." With a hard thrust,
he rammed his cock straight up her pussy. Tears rolled down the blonde woman's
face as the man began to fuck her from behind while she was bent over the iron
railing. Against her will, she felt her pussy welcome the intrusion and start
to grow even wetter. Soon, she was humping her ass back against the man's cock
and grunting with quiet lust at each stroke. Her passion built until finally
she came just as the man stiffened and spewed jets of sperm into her
over-heated pussy.
Humiliated, she trembled on the rail as her orgasm slowly subsided. The
tremors and spasms had just about ended when she heard a voice from a few feet
away.
"Hey, man... that's quite a slut you got there. Mind if I have a go at
her?"
Marion looked up from her bent-over position to see who had spoken. It was
the man she had kneed on the dance floor.
"Nooo..."
She started to straighten up, but the man who had just fucked her to
orgasm pushed her back down over the railing. "Be my guest," he laughed.
"There's plenty to go around; she's a real slut." He held her down while the
second man came around behind the rail and took over. With no warning, he
plunged his cock into her sopping pussy and began pistoning his hips. The first
man did up his pants and went back into the club; the music swelled and then
died away as the door opened and closed.
"Bitch," the man grunted, slapping his hand down against her thigh. Marion
cried out at the pain, but immediately felt the spark of lust rekindle. The man
slapped her a few more times and then began to fuck her in earnest. He slammed
his hips into her as hard as he could, driving her stomach into the railing
again and again. And, despite the pain and humiliation, or perhaps because of
it, she felt her body begin to react.
The man laughed. "You really like this, don't you bitch?"
Marion didn't answer. He grabbed a handful of blonde hair and jerked her
head painfully back. "I said, 'you like this, don't you bitch'?"
Whimpering at the pain, she moaned out a quiet "yes". Satisfied, the man
dropped her head and went back to fucking her. "Tell me," he growled.
"Yes," she grunted, her body jerking and bucking with each hard thrust, "I
like it... please... I love it..." She babbled on, growing increasingly
incoherent as the feelings of lust grew in her battered body. Finally, all she
could do was grunt in time with the man's thrusts:
"Hunh... huhn... huhn... Huhn... HUHN... HUHNN.... Ahh...."
She came, her body bucking and spasming as her third orgasm of the evening
ripped through her body.
"Fuck!" It was everything the man could do to hold on as she kicked and
bucked beneath him. He came, but his cocked slipped out as she twisted away,
and he spewed ropes of hot, sticky cum down the back of her dress.
"Shit man..."
In a daze, Marion felt another pair of hands grip her ass. She looked up
blearily. The music was loud again - the door was open - and more and more men
were leaving the club and entering the alley. She felt anther cock enter her
pussy and, when she opened her mouth to protest, another one was slipped in
between her lips. Instinctively, she began to suck at it with the skills she
had learned over the previous week.
And, once again, her traitorous body began to react...
She quickly lost track of how many men had taken her. Had fucked her. All
she knew was cocks and orgasm... cocks and orgasms... cocks and orgasms...
When Jimmy found her some time later, she was alone, on her hands and
knees up against the wall in the alley. Her black dress was bunched up around
her waist, torn and soaking with cum. Her shoes were gone and stockings ripped.
The insides of her thighs were coated with the cum which still flowed freely
from her red, aching pussy. A long trail of cum and vomit hung down from her
lips as her stomach heaved, trying to reject at least some of the many pints of
sperm she had been forced to swallow.
"Ohhh..."
The blonde woman groaned quietly as Jimmy grabbed her hair and dragged her
to her bare feet. She coughed, spitting out another wad of cum as he pulled her
to the mouth of the alley and over to where the van was waiting. He didn't
bother handcuffing her; she had passed out on the floor before the door was
shut behind her.
She never even heard the engine start.
*****
Marion's training continued the next day almost as though nothing had
happened. Almost. When she entered the living room the next morning, Angela was
waiting with the cane. Marion knew what was expected of her; she assumed her
caning position and begged to be punished.
The redhead obliged her.
The only other consequence of Marion's outing to the club was that Angela
placed her off-limits to Jimmy and the other men. Her captive's pussy, Angela
decided, needed time to recover from its ordeal. Marion almost fainted with
relief when Angela made the order - her pussy was red and raw after the gang
bang in the alley - but soon discovered that any slackening in her duties
towards the men was more than made up by an increase in the time she had to
spend satisfying Angela. For the next three days, she spent almost every waking
moment with the redhead, her nose buried in the woman's pussy or ass. By the
end of each day, both her tongue and her pussy were aching, one with fatigue
and the other with unsatisfied lust. When Angela had decreed Marion's pussy off
limits, she had meant it.
Even to Marion.
And so, the blonde woman lived each waking moment in a haze of sexual
subservience and frustration. She forgot all else: Sheila; her previous life;
Donald... her entire consciousness was focussed on one thing: satisfying her
mistress.
That was why, when she heard a woman's embarrassed giggle from behind her
in the room while her face was jammed up between the redhead's sopping thighs,
she was so surprised. Another woman? Her instinct was to look up, but she had
been too well trained for that. She just kept right at work, using her tongue
to excite her mistress's clit and trying desperately not to think about the
dreadful lust burning in her own deprived pussy while Angela greeted the
newcomers and invited them to take a seat. It was only when the redhead had
orgasmed that Marion, her face wet with pussy juice, was allowed to straighten
up and turn around.
"Donald!"
It was her husband. He was sitting comfortably on a chair on the other
side of the room, a big grin on his face. Standing behind him, her hand on his
shoulder, was a beautiful woman with long, brown hair. Her face was a little
flushed, as though she were somewhat embarrassed... or aroused. As Marion
watched in stunned silence, the brunette bent down and whispered something in
Donald's ear. Donald nodded and laughed out loud.
Finally, Marion recovered her voice: "Donald! What are..."
"Position!" Angela interrupted.
The blonde woman hesitated for a split second, torn between her training
and the imminence of rescue, but a quick slap on her ass with the cane made up
her mind for her. Smoothly, she assumed the squatting position she had been
taught so well: sitting back on her heels; knees bent; thighs spread; hands
behind her neck; and eyes down. Her face, splotchy with drying pussy juice,
burned with a humiliation she hadn't felt since the second day of her training.
The thought of Donald was seeing her like this was almost unbearable.
Still, she bore it.
She had no choice.
"Well Donald," Angela purred, her voice smug, "shall you do the honours or
shall I?"
Marion heard Donald get to his feet. "I think I will," he answered. "It's
my buck paying the ticket, or at least part of it." The brunette giggled again
as Donald walked forward, towards his squatting wife. "But I'd like to explain
it in my own way."
Angela laughed.
The blonde woman felt her head being pulled back. She looked up to see
Donald's cock sticking in her face. With a soft cry, she cringed; this was the
first cock she'd seen since the gang rape at the club. It frightened and
repulsed her, but once again the sharp sting of the cane against her ass
compelled obedience.
"Open your mouth," Donald ordered. "Don't suck it, just let it sit there
while I... 'fill you in'." The brunette let out another giggle. A tear trickled
down Marion's face as she obediently opened her mouth and accepted her
husband's cock. He slid it in about two or three inches, just enough so that it
sat heavily on her tongue. "Ahhh..." Donald looked down with a large grin on
his face. "That feels great. Too bad I couldn't get you to do this when we were
married." Marion felt a tingle in her pussy, but didn't acknowledge it. What
did he mean 'when we were married'?
"Look up at me," Donald ordered. Obediently, Marion looked up, staring at
her husband as she knelt in front of him, his cock in her mouth.
Donald began to speak: "Let me tell you about my problem. I had this wife,
you see, a prim little school teacher. She was cute enough, but she was just
too fucking uptight to be much fun. I tried to be patient with her, but she
just never got into it. As a result, I went elsewhere. This went on for a
while, but the stupid bitch never caught on; she was too busy playing teacher.
One day, I met Barbara here..." he gestured towards the brunette, who walked
over and stood beside him, resting her hand on his shoulder "...and things
changed." He paused for a moment and Marion watched, tears streaming down her
face, as her husband and the brunette - Barbara - indulged themselves in a
long, passionate kiss. She felt his cock twitch on her tongue, and barely
suppressed a moan of shame and lust.
Finally, they were done kissing. "You can start sucking, now, but keep
looking up at me." Her eyes blurred with tears, but Marion did as she was told.
Slowly, with all the skill she'd painfully acquired over the last two weeks of
training, she began to suck her husband's cock, all the while staring up at him
with her big, blue eyes.
Grinning, Donald resumed his story: "You see, Barbara changed my life. Not
only did she work wonders for my company, turning things around and making me a
fortune, but I fell in love with her. And she fell in love with me: the perfect
couple. Except for one thing: I was already married."
Marion let out a sob, but continued work slavishly on her husband's cock.
While she was sucking, the burning in her pussy was quickly growing greater.
After ten days of almost constant masturbation and sex, Angela's refusal to let
her come over the last few days was driving her wild. Even with all the hateful
things Donald was saying, even with the humiliation of being forced to suck his
cock like some kind of whore in front of his girlfriend, she still felt herself
growing more and more excited. Her hand trembled with the urge to reach down
for her pussy, but she held back. No matter how much she wanted it, she feared
Angela more.
Donald continued speaking: "So I didn't know what to do. My wife didn't
know how rich I'd become, but I was pretty certain that her lawyer would find
out in any divorce proceeding. So we couldn't go down that road: Barbara and I
agreed that whatever happened, we wouldn't give any of our money to my wife.
So, we were stuck. We even toyed with the idea of doing away with her, but we
just couldn't do it. Then it even seemed to get worse. We were caught together
by..."
"Don't say it," Angela interrupted. "Leave that part out."
By now, Marion was sliding her entire face up and down on her husband's
cock, taking it all the way down her throat and then sliding it out. She wanted
to do something - to bite, to scream, to cry, to rage - but she couldn't. All
she could do was stare upwards, her mouth full of cock, while Donald went on
with his hateful story.
"Fair enough," he agreed, groaning slightly. Marion's efforts on his cock
were beginning to effect him. "To make a long story shorter, this person didn't
rat on us. Instead, she suggested a possible solution. A way out so that we
would both get what we wanted: me, Barbara and her. And she even knew the
perfect person to hire to do the job."
Angela laughed.
"And so," Donald concluded, his breath short and heavy with arousal, "I
got these." He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and waved it in front
of her face. It was the letter; the letter she had been forced to write to him,
explaining about how she needed to be free to find other men. "And this." He
flashed some pictures in front of her wide eyes. They were obviously taken in
the club a few nights earlier: Marion dancing with different men; Marion openly
masturbating on the dance floor; Marion leaning back and allowing her breasts
to be fondled, a dreamy look on her face; Marion kissing another man while
grinding her crotch into him. "With this," Donald concluded, "I can get a
divorce in no time."
He fell silent and stiffened as his cock twitched and began to spurt cum
down Marion's throat. Marion swallowed, as she had been trained to do, but the
taste repulsed her. Nevertheless, there was a burning in her pussy.
"And you," Donald continued as he pulled his cock from her mouth, "won't
get a thing. You were the one who abandoned me." He grinned down at her as he
placed his cock back in his pants and backed away.
Her mouth sticky with cum, Marion looked up at him from her squatting
position. "But... but, what about me? I'll testify..."
"Oh I don't think so," Angela laughed. "Your new mistress is taking you
home tonight. As far as anyone will know, you'll be long gone with your
'lover'."
Marion fell silent and looked around, bewildered.
New mistress?
Sheila walked out of the bedroom, fully dressed in skirt and blouse.
"Hello Mrs Seward," she sneered, an arrogant look on her young face. "Or should
I say 'Darling'".
Speechless, Marion gaped at the teenager.
Sheila smiled and walked slowly forward towards the still squatting woman.
"I gather Donald's told you all about your impending divorce." The teenager
smirked. "My condolences. It's so sad when marriages don't work out." She came
to a halt directly in front of her ex-teacher. "Still, there's a bright side,"
she continued. "Now you'll have more time to fulfil your new duties."
The blonde woman looked up at the teenager, her mind dizzy with confusion.
"New d-duties?"
"Didn't Angela tell you?" Sheila looked over at the redhead, her eyebrows
raised.
"I left it for you," the older woman told her, nodding slightly.
"Ah." Sheila turned her attention downward again, a tight smile on her
face. "I'm your new mistress. You're coming home with me."
Marion froze for a moment, her mind struggling to take it all in.
Donald... and that woman, Barbara... the kidnapping... Sheila... Her body began
to shake as it slowly became clear to her just what had happened.
And what was going to happen.
"Nooo..." Her lower lip trembled; a tear welled up and rolled out of one
watering eye and trickled down her cheek. "Nooo..."
"Oh, yes," Sheila told her, laughing at the other woman's reaction. "My
father arranged the whole thing. He bought me a house just off campus for
college next year, complete with basement and kennel." Sheila smirked. "And a
cane."
This couldn't be happening! Marion's gaze darted around the room, looking
for... she wasn't sure what. Sympathy? Escape? Someone to tell her it was all a
bad joke?
"But that's for the future." The teenager grinned and raised her skirt.
"And we'll have plenty of time together." She wasn't wearing any panties.
"Angela tells me you've turned into quite the little cunt-hound. That'll be one
of your duties, of course, so I thought I'd see if her praise was justified."
The blonde woman continued to shake as she stared at the teenager's pussy,
just inches from her face. It was quite different from Angela's. The redhead's
pussy had been fully developed, and covered with thick, red pubic hair.
Sheila's pussy was much smaller and covered with a much finer sheen of hair. It
was a teenager's pussy; and the pussy of her new mistress.
Her new mistress!
A thrill of lust shot through Marion's body. With a quiet moan of
submission, she leaned forward and began work. Using every ounce of skill she
had acquired over the last ten days, she did her best to satisfy her young
mistress, slurping and sucking at the girl's clit as best she could. Behind
her, Donald let out a booming laugh, and Marion was almost overcome with a wave
of shame and humiliation. And, as was the case over the last week of her
captivity, those feelings were closely followed by a burning, hungry lust in
her pussy. Inevitably, Marion felt herself growing moist as she serviced her
new mistress's pussy.
"Angela?"
Marion was barely aware that Sheila had said anything before... [THWACK!]
the cane landed on her ass with a brutal impact.
"Mmmmm..."
The blonde woman let out a muffled scream into the younger girl's pussy,
causing her to squirm in lust at the feeling.
"Again."
THWACK!
"Nmmmmgh..."
"Again."
THWACK!
Marion twisted and writhed under the painful caning, but didn't take her
mouth away from Sheila's now sopping pussy. She had been too well trained.
Besides, the taste of the teenager's pussy juice combined with the humiliation
of her situation and the burning pain of the caning to send powerful waves of
lust swelling out from her pussy and through the rest of her body. With a
whimper of lust, she drove her well-trained tongue deep into the girl's pussy,
her screams and writhing pushing the younger girl closer and closer to orgasm.
"Darling," Sheila breathed, gripping her slave's blonde curls and pulling
her face even harder into her wet pussy. "Touch yourself. Come for your
mistress!"
The blonde woman mewled with sluttish pleasure as her hands began their
work. One hand flew up to her naked breasts, pinching and squeezing and
kneading as it had the very first time she had been forced to give Jimmy a
blowjob. The other hand went down to her swamp-like pussy, furiously driving
one, two and then three fingers in and out while scraping the side of her hand
up against her burning clit. [THWACK!] Angela brought the cane down harder and
harder on the blonde woman's reddened ass as the two women, the teenage
mistress and her teacher-slave grunted and moaned with lust.
Finally, it was too much for the teenager. With a loud cry, her legs gave
way and she fell back onto her ass, her hands still gripping Marion's blonde
hair. As she fell, she drew the older woman forward so that she was lying
almost flat on the floor, her face still jammed hard into the teenager's pussy.
The extra pressure from the fall sent Sheila over the edge. Letting out a
scream, she wrapped her legs around her slave's head and began to thrash wildly
about, bouncing her ass up and down off the floor with the force of the orgasm.
Marion came.
Face trapped between Sheila's bucking thighs, one hand twisting and
pulling on her aching nipples while the other clawed desperately at her slut
pussy, Marion came. Her legs kicked out at random as her body was buffeted by
wave after wave of orgasm so intense it was mostly pain. She screamed her
ecstacy into Sheila's steaming pussy while Angela, sweating with exertion,
repeatedly slammed the cane into her red, writhing ass, sending shockwaves of
agony through the blonde woman's bucking, heaving body and sending her to new
heights of pain and pleasure.
When her senses returned, Marion found herself lying on the floor in a
pool of tears, sweat and pussy juice. Donald and his girlfriend had left the
room, and Angela was giving Sheila a small suitcase. Sheila smiled and handed
over an envelope. The transaction completed, the brown-haired teenager walked
over and attached a chain leash to Marion's leather collar.
"Well Darling," she asked, smirking, "ready to go?"
Marion looked up at Sheila as she stood, towering over the crouching
woman. The teenager looked so confident; so beautiful. Briefly, the blonde
school teacher contemplated the future - being kept as a sex slave by a former
student; sleeping chained and naked in a basement kennel like some kind of
degraded, sluttish animal; being forced to serve her former student in any way
the girl demanded - and a shudder of lust racked her abused body. She looked up
at her ex-student, fighting back an urge to plunge her hand once again back
into her spasming pussy.
"Yes mistress," she answered, meaning every word. Just as she had been
trained to do. "I'm ready."
THE END
=================================================================
As usual, I am interested in any comments you may have
regarding this story, or any of my other stories.
