Back in the 1960s and 70s a French artist by the name of Joseph Farrel created a sizeable

number of BDSM drawings. He felt that the drawings were works in themselves and that

people should make up their own stories to go with them. Later the drawings were published

with short vignettes by Robert Merodack and others. Joseph Farrel is sadly now dead and

much of his work is out of print.

For my own amusement I have written my own short stories to accompany some of the

drawings. Here is one of them. Let me know what you think.

THE EDUCATOR RE-EDUCATED

Helen Turner was highly appreciated for her teaching skills at Mathematics. However

she was often excessively strict with the boys on the older courses, even though many of them

secretly fancied her and favoured her classes with much more attention than those of other

teachers.

Moreover, Helen hoped to marry one of her colleagues, Vincent Crawford. She agreed

to become his mistress. Vincent was extremely demanding took complete advantage of this

situation but he also took care not to promise anything in exchange for her obvious and

manifest favours.

“We'll talk about it later,” he answered every time she mentioned marriage. And he

would immediately add, “In the meantime, do this, do that...”

Helen agreed to do and to suffer everything he asked of her. Vincent was fascinated

and interested to see just how servile he could force her to be. She turned out to be more

submissive than he could ever have imagined, much more submissive...

One day, Helen slapped the face of a sixteen-year-old boy, Peter, who excelled in

General Science, taught by her evermore-demanding lover. Peter came and complained to

Vincent who devised a thoroughly appropriate plan. The next day, after classes, he brought

Helen into the nearby woods. He forced her to take off her skimpy underwear but keep on her

dress. Next, ordering her to bend over, he took a small whip out of his pocket, gave her

backside a vigorous beating with it, and then roughly shoved the rounded handle far up into her

anus. She wept quite a bit, squirmed an awful lot, but managed not to utter a word of

complaint. Then he made her stand up and had her walk around with him for some time in this

condition. Blushing, she obeyed though her gait was somewhat strained both by the object in

her back passage and by the rubbing of the cloth over her very tender behind.

Suddenly, around a curve in the path they encountered, as if by accident, Peter and two

of his friends from the rugby team. She understood immediately the trap she was in and burst

into tears. However, to Vincent’s surprise, she made no attempt to escape her fate.

“Hello, Miss Turner!,” chorused the boys.

“Oh look my dear; it’s Peter, with David and Jon. Hello lads, we’re just out for an

afternoon stroll, it’s such a lovely day. Would you care to come along? I’m sure Helen won’t

mind if you join us for our walk.”

“Why not, Sir. But I can’t help noticing that Miss Turner is walking a bit funny today.

Are you all right, Miss? Is there something we could help you with?”

“Well dearest, I think you had better show the boys the reason. Just to further their

education, so to speak!”

While she sobbed and pleaded, she was forced to roll up her dress and display her

abject humiliation to the three amused teenagers.

Peter whistled as he saw the whip protruding from between his weeping teacher’s

flaming buttocks. It was hard to tell what made her bottom redder, its beating or Helen’s

blushing. He kept to his role in the game though.

“Miss Turner, what a very lovely arse you’ve got. I think it’s even better than we all

imagined it. But it does seem awfully sore today. Is it always red and striped like that?”

“It is more often than not these days, boys. I’ve had to take Miss Turner’s further

education in hand. I like to think of it as re-education. But since you’re free this afternoon

perhaps you could be so kind as to help your teacher with another remedial lesson. Believe

me: she needs lots of personal tuition. If you are firm with her you will find she responds to

even the toughest lessons. Be as severe as you like!”

Vincent produced a second, much larger whip from his coat pocket. He made the

sobbing Helen first kiss and then lick the lashes until they glistened with her saliva. Then he

handed the instrument over to a grinning Peter.

“My recommendation is that you lads each start by giving her face a good slap. I am

sure that will make her more co-operative and respectful in your future classes. Next I think it

would be appropriate if you three took turns beating the hell out of her arse. Then, Peter, if you

and your mates fancy it, you can have your teacher up the back way. You can be sure that

she'll enjoy that part of the lesson... She’s a real slut when it comes to anal sex. Aren’t you

Helen?”

“Y… Y… Yerrs,” managed the distraught teacher.

“Yes what, my dear?”

“Y… Yes, I’m a slut for anal sex… Oh God…”

“There you go lads, she’s gagging for it. Slap her first for being a disrespectful slut.”

Much later that sunny afternoon, Vincent led a completely distraught Helen from the

park. She now walked even more peculiarly than before, her backside positively rolling

beneath the fabric. This was not too surprising, because after each slapping her face

violently, her pupils had whipped her backside with exceptional enthusiasm until it glowed

like a brazier of hot coals. Next the lads had enjoyed the game of repeatedly fucking her

arsehole, each of them cumming twice in her agonised bowels. They had finished by

pushing, at Vincent’s suggestion, the larger sized whip handle between her still glowing,

flaming buttocks and high up into her rectum. This hadn’t been too difficult as their three

pricks had by then thoroughly loosened the way and their mingled sperm greased the

insertion for the rough leather tool. Peter and his two friends had been amazed to discover

that all this abuse actually made their teacher climax. Sobbing, hiccupping, begging and

cumming: all at the same time. As a final humiliation Vincent forced her to kneel in the grass

and suck the boy’s cocks spotlessly clean before they left.

That terrible afternoon’s experience broke what little resistance the poor teacher had

been willing to show to her stern lover and over the following months under Vincent’s close

personal direction Helen became better and better acquainted with a steadily increasing

number of her students. Her master began with the bigger, rougher boys and then added in

one or two of the more vicious girls.

Everyone in the school soon noticed that Miss Turner nowadays never sat down in

school any more. She walked to and from work, taught standing up, ate standing up and even

stood in staff meetings. The only time she sat down was when Vincent Crawford told her to

and then it seemed to cause her the most exquisite discomfort. Everyone tried to guess the

reason. Later on all became clear as, at Vincent’s orders, Helen’s skirts became shorter and

shorter till the tassels showed below the hem of her skirt.

It was clear that for months the poor teacher had been walking around with the greased

whip handle in her anus all day, every day. Initially Vincent used the smaller-handled whip for

this duty, but soon he changed to the bigger one. It amused him to know that when he ordered

her to sit next to him at lunch or in a staff meeting that the awful look on her face showed she

could feel every millimetre of the fourteen inch braided handle in her arsehole.

By the summer term the poor teacher wore only the shortest of miniskirts whose hems

were way above the tops of her stockings. Whenever she bent over (which she did frequently

as Vincent barked at her, “Touch your toes, bitch!”) one could actually see the end of the whip

handle sticking out her now thoroughly trained anus. Her tops by this stage were just thin

spandex tubes with the words ‘whore’, ‘slut’ or ‘bitch’ in bright lettering.

If Vincent felt that his plaything had not been cooperative enough in degrading herself

utterly he would follow her into her classroom at the beginning of a lesson. He would tug down

her tube top so her breasts were revealed and then facing her to the blackboard he would

make her grip her well spread ankles. This way she would be looking back at her pupils

through her opened legs. Vincent would first flip her tiny skirt up onto her back so that every

student had a perfect view of the whip sticking out of her arsehole. Then he would grip the

thing and fuck her rectum with it until she had an orgasm, knowing that climaxing in front of the

class was the worst ordeal for Helen. Next he would pull the whip free, give her backside a few

hard lashes with it before ramming the handle back in. Finally he would leave her to teach the

lesson in this position, often fixing a bulldog clip to each nipple before departing. Trying to keep

a semblance of order while her breasts dangled and she looked through whip tassels was

impossible. Humiliating chaos would ensue as the students set about abusing her. The

students knew the rules: humiliating their teacher was allowed and indeed recommended.

Touching her and fondling her was fine, having sex with her was not, unless specifically given

permission to do so by Mr Crawford.

To minimise the abuse poor Helen spent her time behaving as much as possible like

the completely degraded slut she now was. She accepted the catcalls and insults from her

classes with a fixed smile, let herself be groped continuously and cooperated with student

suggestions like “Time to show us your tits, Miss Turner” or “Why don’t you have a wank now,

Miss?” The students quickly figured out that the worse the degradation the greater her

reluctant excitement and the more certain the humiliating orgasm would be.

By this stage, as well as being carnally acquainted with almost every boy in the sixth

form and quite a few of the more daring girls, Helen Turner had become the official staffroom

fuck-toy. Teachers were, of course, exempt from the ‘no sex’ rule, with the proviso that all such

intercourse had to take place in the staffroom or other private space so as not to disrupt the

schooling.

At the school’s summer fundraising fete a special tent was set up in the corner of the

grounds with the sign outside: ‘Miss Turner’s Special Tuition’. Here parents could, for a

substantial donation to school funds, act out whatever fantasies they wanted with the Sixth

Form’s obedient Maths teacher. It turned out to be the top earner of the afternoon and was so

popular that the headmaster was forced to keep it going long into the evening. As the students

cleared away the rest of the fair, the sounds of grunts and groans could be heard coming from

the tent, punctuated occasionally by a squeal of pain, sobbing plea for mercy or desperate

climax from their abused teacher.

Miss Turner quit her job at the end of the school year in order to become Mrs Crawford

at a grotesquely obscene wedding ceremony attended by all of the staff and most of the older

children in the school. The very public ‘wedding night’ actually went on for three appalling,

humiliating but terribly exciting days and included as highlights:

•

A greeting line that was really more of a groping line with the arriving

guests invited to scoop her breasts out of her low cut dress and then to tug at Helen’s

nipples or to stick their hands through slits in her dress to finger her crotch.

•

Everyone writing obscene recollections of Helen’s last year as a teacher

in the wedding book.

•

Parody wedding photographs: each of these pictures involved the well-

dressed guests and the nearly-naked bride, with the latter fancifully bound or held and

with one or more exotic objects sticking out of her cunt, mouth or anus:

•

The bride and groom: a traditional pose with Vincent in full morning suit

while next to him stood Helen in just high heels, stockings, whalebone

waist cinch, a lace choker, her veil and the bridal bouquet.

•

The bride and the six bridesmaids (all sixth-form girls): the young women

held their teacher up with her legs wide spread and the bouquet shoved

deeply into her vagina.

•

The bride and the groom’s friends,

•

The bride and the school staff,

•

The bride and the rugby team, etc..

•

Repeated champagne enemas leaving Helen woozy and her anus

incredibly sensitised. A freshly opened bottle would be shaken with a thumb over the

opening before being firmly inserted past the bride’s anal sphincter. A quick fucking

with the neck was followed by removal leading to a fountain of foaming wine erupting

several feet into a basin.

•

Helen spread-eagled on a table with four elasticised clips holding her

labia wide open so all the guests could take turns eating wedding cake from her gaping

vagina. This was so popular that her cunt had to be packed full a dozen times. Though

traditionally cake is eaten with a fork in this case the diners were instructed to use

spoons!

•

A first dance where she danced naked apart from her veil and very high

heels while Vincent of course was still in his fine suit. His dance was restrained,

Helen’s was choreographed to be blatantly pornographic.

•

An afternoon session where the blushing bride was introduced to all her

students’ pet dogs in a canine orgy.

•

A trip to the emergency department at the local hospital to have a milk

bottle removed from her rectum. Poor Helen had to tell the doctors she had no idea

how it had got up there.

Helen has known much worse humiliations and stimulations since this time and still she

has never once complained or tried to escape her fate. At the start of the new school year

Vincent instituted a reward scheme for his science students. Each fortnight the three best

performing pupils are invited home to abuse and experiment on his wife, their former teacher.

Outrageous scientific investigations are now performed on the humiliated, but still submissive,

woman. Like all proper science experiments meticulous records are kept including

measurements, photographs and video recordings. Class discussion groups discuss and

formulate the latest projects and monitor Helen’s progress with graphs and statistics:

•

How much horse semen (ordered from the vet) can she swallow before

vomiting?

•

How often can she orgasm in an afternoon while fucking herself or being fucked

with a banana/a courgette/a vibrator?

•

How many strokes of a riding crop across her breasts/arse/cunt before she

faints?

•

How much hot/cold water can her bowels take?

•

Can she climax while being fucked in the arse/cunt/mouth by a Great Dane/a

Rottweiler/an Alsatian?

•

Will her vagina accept an entire cucumber/aubergine/hand?

•

Can she suck off two boys at once?

•

How many pins can be stuck in her breasts?

•

What is the biggest size of dildo that she can impale herself on, anally/vaginally,

willingly/unwillingly?

A giant bulletin board in the main corridor exhibits the latest data and analysis for all to

see, liberally illustrated with numerous full colour photographs. Vincent’s favourite of these is a

large A3 sized print of his nude wife on her back with her ankles doubled up round her ears

looking straight at the camera above her spread crotch as she holds her labia apart to show a

stream of sperm oozing from her vagina. An exceptionally thick cucumber sticks out of her

anus and a fierce-looking clip is crushing her clitoris. What makes the image perfect is the look

on Helen’s face that shows she has clearly just had an overwhelmingly intense orgasm.

The staff room is often packed out as Helen’s former colleagues review a video of her

latest scientific achievements.

Vincent has, of course, agreed to the headmaster’s request that Mrs Crawford be

available for further school fundraising efforts, starting with a fundraising weekend in the

country with several of the better-off parents.