Tortured Teacher
by Exacting Master (a_cup_lover_2000@yahoo.com)
TROUBLED TEACHER -- now TORTURED TEACHER
I thought that this index might be useful. I have also made a minor
modification to the chapters: I
am including at the top of most chapters a list of INDEX WORDS, which you may use, with the
SEARCH function of your WRITE or NOTEBOOK program, as a sort of bookmark
to what I consider the "good" parts.
Index to TORTURED TEACHER by chapters
1 preview of tortures
2 preview of humiliation
3 overview of torture den
4 anticipation of capture
5 the Boss's advances
6 groundwork for capture
7 the capture
8 whipping, surrender
9 pinch breasts, strip, forced lesbian
10 blow jobs for the camera
11 frustrating lesbianism, female masturbation
12 morning after, no undies
13 back to school, extra date tonight
14 lesbian grope, ready for the whipping
15 nipple irritation ("spiders")
16 whipped (especially breasts), breast clamps ("crushers")
17 gang rape
18 night with Angie, the "masked rapist", anal rape
19 life is routine
20 "party girl" prisoner
21 digital examination
22 calibration of tolerance for pain
23 teaching machine for a whore
24 lesbian rape again
25 the first customer -- map pins
26 breast and genital torture; urine cocktail
27 prolonged torture session
28 life in the town; unmasking the Rapist
29 the worm turns
30 wrap-up
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 1 (was Troubled Teacher) - preview of tortures
"OK," Gertie cried. "Here's Betty. That makes the whole club, except
Susie. When are you going to let us in on the big secret?"
The other women murmured their support for Gertie's impatience. "Or do we
have to wait for Susie, too?" one of them complained.
"No," said Sheila. "Susie is the one girl we won't have to wait for. I
happen to know that she can't make it today, and I happen to know why. And that 'why' is the reason
that I called you all together on a day that isn't our regular bridge day." She smiled mysteriously.
The babble of voices rose again, to be silenced by Sheila's outstretched
hands. "You see," she went on, "Susie is working today. Susie," she smiled, is a whore."
The voices rose in a crescendo of disbelief. "Not goody-goody Susie" and
"You're kidding!" and other similar phrases were heard above the general tumult. Once again
Sheila managed to quiet them.
"Hold on, let me finish. Not only is she a whore, but she's working in an
anything-goes House that caters not only -- now get this, girls -- not only to men, but also
to women customers. And I propose that we drop in on her en masse, for a surprise visit."
Again the tumult of uncontrolled discussion and disbelief. Again,Sheila
made herself heard. "Hold it!" she shouted. "Let's not cackle like a flock of chickens. I'll
be glad to answer -- or at least to discuss -- any of your questions, but let's have a little order.
Betty, what were you saying?"
"What do you mean by 'anything goes'"? Betty asked.
t#
"OK, it's a slight exaggeration, but it's the term that was used by her
-- ah -- pimp. No, don't ask me how I got to know him -- I have a right to some secrets, after all.
But the rules are that we can do anything at all, as long as it doesn't leave any permanent marks on
her body, or inflict any lasting injury. Jack -- let's call him that -- assures me that they have
special whips and paddles, for instance, that give various parts of the body a wonderful rosy glow,
and make the victim squirm and squeal most prettily, but leave no marks at all that are
visible an hour or so after they are used.
"And then they have thumbscrews that pinch the nipples, and bigger clamps that squeeze the
whole boobs, hard enough to be very painful, but not hard enough to
injure the girl. And a special electric-shock thing -- something like a cattle-prod -- that
plugs right into the pussy, batteries and all, so that all that is visible is the wire that sticks
out, with a switch on the end of it."
Sheila noticed that some of the women were starting to drool by now,
while some of them were unconsciously rubbing their breasts in self-stimulation.
"And of course there are all sorts of things you can do with needles,"
she went on. "Another cute little item is the dancing slippers. They have electric switches built
into them, connected up so that any time she keeps either foot on the floor more than a second -- or
whenever both feet touch the floor at the same time -- they set off that electric-shock
tampon that she's wearing. And, to keep her mind on business, we can make her wear special clothes
all the time -- like a bra-and-panty set lined in the strategic areas with dozens of pin points
that give her a little reminder every time she moves.
"And in between times, she'll lick our pussies, of course."
"But how do they get her to put up with things like that?"
"That's one question I can't answer," Sheila admitted. "Maybe she has
latent masochistic tendencies, maybe she's being blackmailed. Or maybe she does it strictly
for the money. One thing for sure, she doesn't come cheap."
"With treatment like that, I'd be surprised if she was able to come at
all," one of the girls chuckled.
"If we do decide to drop in on her," Sheila went on when the groans had
subsided, "It'll cost us $50 each. That's a total of $350 from the seven of us, for one
afternoon's work. A pretty good income for her, but only $50 each for us. Just imagine -- $50 to get our
little Susie to be dummy all afternoon, while we make one grand slam after another."
"And she goes down on every trick," Gertie giggled.
That broke them up for a while.
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 2 - preview of humiliation
"But wait a minute", one of the ladies protested. "You mentioned the
possibility of blackmail. How can we make sure that they don't take pictures of us that they can use to
blackmail us afterward? I just can't imagine anything worse than being forced to work in a place
like that," she shuddered.
"I've thought of that, too," Sheila replied. "Look here."
She picked up a little suitcase from the floor, laid it on the table.
Opening the lid, drew out what looked like a small bag, made of black silk. Drawing the bag over her
head, she adjusted it so the eyeholes were in the right place, and tied the drawstrings under her chin.
"There," she said, her voice a bit muffled by the silk. "I defy the Devil
himself to recognize me now, especially with my clothes off." A naughty tone crept into her
voice. "Sure, we'll be naked, of course. We'll feel much more wicked that way. And it'll be more fun
when Susie gives us the blow job -- or we work on each other, if the spirit moves us. And look,"
she demonstrated, "these masks have flaps that open up over the mouth, so they won't interfere
with any kissing we want to do.
"And that's part of the fun, too," she went on. "If we want to make a
little love with one another, nobody will know for sure who her partner is. And the rest of the girls
won't know who is making out, of course. And -- most delicious of all -- Susie won't know who is
raping her (I think we can use that word) while we'll know damned who she is.
"So any pictures that are taken will show only Susie with a bunch of
anonymous naked girls, so there's no possible way they can be used to blackmail any of us.
h#
"As a matter of fact," she added as an afterthought, "we might like to
take a few pictures ourselves. Not only as souvenirs, but just think of the kick if we spring
them on Susie some time during our regular bridge sessions. For
instance," she giggled, "we could have a set of prints made up the size
of our playing cards, and let the dummy casually lay them out some time when Susie is declarer.
You'd be willing to make the prints for us in your lab, wouldn't you, Gertie?"
Gertie nodded, caught up in the spirit of the adventure.
"So let's put it to a vote. We don't all have to go, although Jack says
that we'll have to pay a total of $350, regardless of how many of us do take part. How about it, girls?"
The motion carried unanimously.
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 3 - overview of torture den
Susie luxuriated in the hot shower for the short time that the matron
allowed her, wishing that the feeling of filthiness would wash off along with the semen and the sweat
(both his and hers) and the little bit of blood from the minor injuries her last "date" had
inflicted. At least the wounds were in places where no-one but her customers would see them, she consoled
herself. Not even a lover -- not a normal one, at any rate -- would be likely to give her the
intimate sort of examination that would reveal those minute scratches and needle pricks.
And she knew, from bitter experience, that even that slight evidence would be gone in a few hours
-- or a day at most.
Would to God that her soul would heal, as her body would.
The matron turned off the hot water, making Susie stand under the cold
shower until her whole body tingled, then let her get out and towel off.
Susie knew the rest of the routine, again from bitter experience. The
enema, the astringent douche, the vaginal and rectal suppositories, to keep things all nice and
tight and slippery. And perfumed. And to kill any lingering germs, although the careful screening
of the House's lientele was usually enough to eliminate any chance of disease.
v#
The madam, who liked to be referred to as the "matron", had told Susie
that there was a special section of the House, where clients with herpes and other venereal
diseases were permitted, but the girls that worked in that area were never made available to the
"clean" customers. And Susie had been warned that she would be a candidate for that section if she
ever let her figure go, or if she got moody or sullen, or if . . ., or if . . . or if . . . The list
seemed endless. And believe me, she told herself, I'm going to do whatever it takes -- whatever at all -- to
keep from having to serve in the "Pit", as the matron archly called it.
Even the Dungeon, where the tortures sometimes got to be really serious,
or the Zoo, where the girls had to amuse a cheering audience by fucking with animals, were a
less horrible fate than the Pit.
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 4 - anticipation of capture
As she went through the humiliating ritual of getting ready for her next
customer, Susie thought back to the way she had been trapped into this life of shame. "What's a
nice girl like you . . .?" as the saying goes.
She had been a virgin when she married Jim. Susie didn't think that this
was such a big deal -- she had been brought up to think it was the normal order of things.
Freshly graduated from Teachers' College, and full of ideals about saving the next generation
through education, Susie had fallen hard for Jim's whirlwind courtship, and had been delighted to come
to live with him in his home town.
Live with him after they were married, that is. She just about drove Jim
crazy during those courting days, holding out until the wedding night.
Marriage did mean compromising a bit on her hopes for saving the world,
though. Jim had pointed out to her that a wife who worked full time would be less able to
help him advance his own career, and Susie had grown up with the belief that a wife's duty to
her husband came before her own ambitions.
Joining the Bridge Club was one of Jim's suggestions. The other members
were all somewhat older than Susie, and were wives of the community's influential citizens,
who were in a position to throw business Jim's way. And the level of their bridge playing was
scarcely anything that Susie couldn't cope with. So she dutifully attended their sessions,
listening to (but not participating in) their gossip, taking a turn at hosting the meetings,
and hoping that her participation (which she dutifully tried not to think of as a sacrifice)
was actually doing Jim some good.
She was too innocent to realize that the other members regarded her with
a mixture of envy and spite, taking a special pleasure in the rare occasions when she had a bad
run of cards, and feeling all the more spiteful when she refused to let the bad luck dampen
her optimism.
She would have been very troubled and perplexed if she had known that the
other members' conversations often dealt with ways in which "that high-nosed bitch could
be taken down a peg".
Unable to follow through with her high ideals about saving the world,
Susie did the next best thing -- she got a job teaching part time in the local high school. But
she soon found that high school pupils were not exactly the soft clay that she had expected. The
"kids", who were actually but a few years younger than she, were for the most part cynical
and worldly-wise, and her exhortations to moral conduct met more often
with snickers than with acceptance.
The worst of the bunch was a girl whose parents had named her Angela --
perhaps with a fine sense of irony. The only thing angelic about Angela was her body. She was
really built -- too well-built according to Susie's standards, and certainly far too
uninhibited in the way she flaunted her assets. Susie was embarrassed just to look at Angie's brazen
display of tits and ass, and Angie was quick to realize this fact -- and to tease Susie all the more, to the
delight of her classmates who were in the know. (Her male classmates were delighted by the display
itself, of course, and to Hell what Teacher thought.) And the situation became even more
embarrassing when Susie discovered that Angela's mother was Sheila, a member of her own bridge club.
p#
It happened that Angie once heard her mother talking with the other club
members about "taking Susie down a peg", and heartily endorsed the idea. But Angie was a girl
of action. She knew that a lot of the kids at school felt the same way about the snooty young
teacher -- and even those who didn't feel strongly about it would go along with her plan, just for
the sheer hell of it. Shit, with what she had in mind, she could think of half a dozen guys right off
the bat who would jump at the chance to take part.
Everybody loves a gangbang.
And Angie didn't plan on being the bangee. Not this time, thank you. She
didn't have any compunctions about pulling a train now and then, but this was going to be
more than an ordinary orgy. This was going to be the cat's ass.
Well, not the cat's, exactly. More like Susie's.
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 5 - the Boss's advances
And two other things were bothering Susie.
One, Jim was spending more and more time at work these days, staying at the office far into the
evening,and often making out-of-town trips that took him away for days at a time. She knew that
it was a sign that Jim's business was becoming more successful. He was even talking about
hiring an assistant -- he said that he now had enough money to pay one, and almost enough
work to keep him busy. But he was reluctant, he told Susie, to take an associate until he got rid
of that "almost". It would be bad for morale, he said, to hire someone that he couldn't keep busy
full time.
And Susie couldn't argue with his logic, even though their sex life was dwindling to almost
nothing. Even on the nights that he was at home, he was usually too tired to be much of a lover.
Susie worried that Jim's declining attention to her might possibly have arisen from the fact that
she had always been straitlaced in her bedroom habits. Jim had tried -- had tried very earnestly -
- to get her to experiment with a few variations, but her Puritanical upbringing was too strong.
Anything but the missionary position was just sinful, she was sure. She even felt uncomfortable
when he saw her naked -- she hid in the closet while she undressed, and wore that heavy
nightgown even while they were making love.
She understood, of course, that accepting his "normal" sexual advances was a part of her wifely
duties, but she felt awfully uncomfortable about it.
And Jim was very nice about it. She knew that he would prefer for her to be a bit wanton, but he
never complained when she failed to respond to his invitations to adventure. But she couldn't
help wondering if her unyielding observance of the "niceties", as she called them, was as much a
factor in the cooling of his ardor as the job was.
In fairness to Jim, she almost wished that he would have an affair with some other woman, and
get some of the pent-up frustration out of his system. But she knew that Jim was too faithful to do
anything like that.
p#
The other thorn in Susie's side was the school Principal. She couldn't blame him, she supposed,
for being attracted to a sweet young girl like Susie, but somehow his leering propositions gave
the impression that he was making them simply because she was there -- that he would have
been equally aggressive toward any reasonably attractive woman that happened by.
She knew that her repeated refusals were making him all the more eager, but what could she do,
for Pete's sake? And there was nothing subtle about his approach. Right out in the open. "How
about coming over to spend the night at my place, now that Hubby is going out of town for the
weekend?" he would ask. Somehow, he always seemed to know when Jim was going away.
And it always seemed that he wanted her to work extra hours on those Fridays when Jim
was going to be out of town. And there was no "seem" at all about his propositions (in fact,
she thought, they were most unseemly) -- she could count on them, regular as clockwork.
And lately, it seemed that she was having to spend more and more time with the Principal.
Mostly talking about Angie, and the other kids who seemed to regard Angie as a ringleader.
Susie was at a complete loss with Angie -- and Angie knew it, of course. Kids can sense those
things, as surely as a dog can smell fear. Susie didn't dare to discuss the problem with Sheila.
She knew that Jim would resent anything she did that might cause ill feelings in the community.
And she knew that Sheila would hardly accept kindly any suggestion that her daughter was an ill-
mannered, immoral, trouble-making bitch -- which is really what the truth boiled down to.
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 6 - groundwork for capture It was getting on toward late Autumn when the blow fell. Susie had noticed that the kids in general, and Angie in particular, were getting more and more uncooperative every time that Susie was in charge of the class. Probably restless about the approaching holidays, Susie thought, hoping desperately that she was right -- that her irrational premonition was unfounded. Jim was on one of his frequent out-of-town trips when it happened. Susie was just coming back to her room from a pre-school session with the Principal (during which he made the usual proposition) when one of the Senior boys approached her in the hall. "You know, teacher," he said, "you ought to have that engine of yours looked at. It's making a bit of noise, and it sounds as if it might quit on you, one of these days. And you don't want it to fail while you're out on the road, especially now that night is falling earlier every day. "If you want, I could take a look at it during lunch hour. It sounds like something simple, like maybe a loose connection. If it's anything more complicated, I think I know enough about cars so I could tell you whether it really is something serious enough to need work right away. "I promise I won't take your car apart out there on the parking lot," he grinned. Susie matched his smile with one of her own. This was practically the first civil word that any of her students had said to her. Maybe that's the right psychological approach, she thought. Find something they think they're good at, and give them a chance to do it. She gave the boy her keys, along with another smile. He returned the keys promptly at the end of lunch hour, with the reassurance that it had indeed been nothing but a loose wire, which he had been able to fix on the spot. She thanked him, and put the keys back in her purse. "I wonder if you could do me a favor in return," he asked. "I'm a little embarrassed about it, because you're going to think that's the only reason I told you about the car. It isn't, I promise you." Susie smiled at his awkward earnestness. "Don't worry," she reassured him. "I believe you. What is it that you want?" "I just wonder if you could give me about five minutes after school, to explain again that quotation from Shakespeare that we had for today's lesson. I can't understand, for the life of me -- if he was such a great writer, why couldn't he speak English right?" "Why, that's because -- " Susie began, then noticed the impish expression on his face. "You're teasing me!" she accused. "Yes, ma'am," he admitted. "But I really would like a chance to talk about it for maybe five minutes." Susie thought for a moment. She was a little uneasy about staying after school with one of the more mature male students. But what could happen to her? It wasn't as if she would be alone with him -- lots of the other teachers and students, as well as the custodial staff, would be all around. And she did owe him something for his help. Besides, she wanted to keep up the momentum of their newly-formed friendship. It turned out that his questions took more like half an hour, but they were legitimate questions. And there was not the least suggestion of improper behavior. When they had finished, the boy thanked her politely, walked her out to her car, and even held the door open while she got in. Her skirt hiked up when she got into the car, and she could feel his eyes on her thighs, but she could hardly blame him for that. She just wished that it hadn't happened. She debated for a moment whether to offer him a ride, but he didn't give her a chance. Closing the door behind her, he ambled off toward the students' end of the parking lot; hands in pockets, whistling a carefree tune. Susie blushed as she realized that she was watching the tautness of the jeans across his hips, the slight sway of his lean figure as he sauntered across the lot. My God! she thought, I must be missing Jim more than I realize. She was happy to see that her car started more easily than usual. That kid knew what he was doing. I hope that I know what I'm doing, Susie thought as she drove away.
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 7 - the capture
The car hummed happily as Susie drove home, and she hummed right
along with it. So a few minutes of help on both sides wasn't
such a big deal, but at least it was a start. Now if she could
only find some way through Angie's barrier of cynicism and resentment . . .
She took the usual precautions as she drove out of town, making
sure that no car was following her. Jim had often teased her about
her timidity, but she still couldn't ever feel completely safe
about living in that little house that Jim had built, way out there
in the woods. He had humored her, though, and had made a veritable
fortress of the house, fitting the doors with pick-proof locks,
putting stout shutters in the windows. And best of all, he had
installed a garage door opener, so she could drive in and close the
doors behind her without getting out of the car. And, since the garage
had a connecting door to the house, she felt completely safe, once the
massive garage door fell shut behind her.
And she loved the house itself -- a romantic hideaway, out of sight
and sound of the neighbors, so that they could romp and cavort all
they wanted, without disturbing a soul. Too bad, Susie thought
wistfully, that she had grown up with the stern conviction that romping
and cavorting were sinful.
As a matter of habit, Susie made the rounds as soon as she walked into
the house, making sure that the bolts were in place on the doors, and
that the shutters were securely locked. Everything was in order, just
as she had left it in the morning. But wait! There was a light on in
the master bedroom. Susie gave a little cry of annoyance -- she must
have forgotten to turn the light off when she had left that morning.
As she climbed the stairs, Susie smiled as she recalled again the
afternoon's "adventure". She walked into the bedroom, unbuttoning her
blouse on the way.
What the deuce?
Susie stopped short at the spectacle -- there was no other word for it --
that greeted her. The covers had been stripped from her bed, and the bed
had been remade with black satin sheets, giving the room the appearance
of sinful luxury. And a naked blonde woman was lying in the middle of
the bed, while a man focused a video recorder on her.
Surely, Susie thought, Jim wouldn't be so brazen as to bring a woman
here, into their own bedroom! The blonde looked up and winked
lasciviously as Susie stormed into the room.
t#
It was Angie!
And she recognized the man who was operating the camera as one of her
students. She whirled at a noise behind her, saw two more of her male
students standing in the doorway.
"What is this? How did you get in?" Susie sputtered.
The cameraman laughed easily. "Simple as pie, Susie baby. When you gave
Chuck the keys to your car at lunch time, he slipped your garage door
opener to Angie, and she just set her own opener to the same code. Then
Chuck delayed you after school so we could pop out and get things ready.
Pretty sexy, hey?" He gestured proudly at the bed, and at its occupant.
"We parked our car out of sight behind the garage, so it wouldn't scare you off."
"Well, you can just take that car and get out of here right now!" Susie shouted.
"Sorry, honey, but we just couldn't do that." The familiar tone of his
address wad not lost on Susie. "After Chuck went to all that trouble to
set things up for us, I guess the least we could do is wait for him to
get here. I think that's his car now," he added.
Susie strode over to the phone, picked up the instrument.
Dead.
Her "guests" laughed.
"Don't worry, sweetie," one of the boys chuckled. "We didn't want you
doing anything rash, like calling the police, so we disconnected your
phone at the main terminal block. Nothing serious, just two screws.
We'll fix it up again before we leave. After all, a couple of screws
will take no time at all," he leered.
This can't be happening, Susie told herself. It's a nightmare. Any
minute now, I'll wake up and find that Jim is here in bed beside me.
But in the meantime . . .
"And what sort of childish games do you plan to play in my house?" she snarled.
Again that irritating chuckle. "Well, actually, we thought of playing
some rather adult games, darling. We think that you've been pretty
rough on Angie over the past few weeks, and figured that it would only
be fair for you to apologize. Not only in words, but with some
actions," he snickered. "We figured it would be real nice of you to
give Angie a blow job. For openers . . ."
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 8 - whipping, surrender
Susie gasped. She knew the meaning of the word -- her life hadn't been
that sheltered. After all, she had lived in a college dormitory for four
years. Her anger flared up again. "I'll do no such thing!" she protested.
"You can take your dirty ideas, and your dirty sheets, and . . ." She
broke off in a yelp of pain as one of the boys hit her with a leather
strap, the lash curling around her calves, just below her skirt. Everyone laughed.
Everyone but Susie.
By now, Chuck had arrived. "Susie honey," he leered, "you should see how
nicely you jiggle when you jump. Especially with your tits hanging out
like that," he added.
Susie's face burned a flaming red. She had forgotten that she had been
removing her blouse when she came up the stairs, that her bra was starkly
revealed, with its hint of firm female flesh within. More than a hint,
actually -- the tantalizing upper slopes of her breasts were fully
exposed to the lecherous stares of the boys -- and to Angie's cynical inspection.
Belatedly, she crossed her arms over her breasts, all bravado lost in the
realization of her complete vulnerability.
The strap bit into her legs again. "Let's see a bit of respect now,
Teacher," the boy taunted. "Let's see you stand up straight, with your
hands at your sides. Stand at attention -- chin up, shoulders back,
and -- ah -- chest out." He emphasized the command with another blow.
w#
Susie crumpled into a heap on the floor, face buried in her hands. She
didn't notice that her skirt had crept up, exposing the lower part of
her nicely rounded thighs, until her tormentor rained a series of blows
on her. The other boys quickly took off their belts and joined in the
fun, while Susie writhed in agony.
"OK!" Angie finally called above Susie's wails. "Enough. For the time
being, anyway. I think that little Susie may be softened up enough by
now so that she'll be a little more cooperative. On your feet, cunt!" she barked.
Painfully, Susie drew herself to her feet. "So stand at attention,
like you were told." All resistance gone, Susie obeyed the command,
agonizingly aware that her blouse now hung fully open, but not daring
to do anything that would conceal her almost-naked charms.
She knew what the boys wanted to look at. And she knew what else they
were going to want, too.
"Now," Angie sneered, confirming her fears, "let's get down to cases.
I'm sure that these fine specimens of American manhood just can't wait
to fuck you. Right, guys?" The answer was a chorus of cheers.
"And you just can't wait for them to do it, can you, Susie dear?"
"No!" Susie screamed. "Please, not that! I'll do anything you want,
but please -- please don't -- don't violate me!"
"Violate", Angie mimicked the word. "How cute! Well, maybe we can work
out something else that you can do instead. No, don't grumble, fellows.
Let's just see if we can work out a good compromise for all concerned.
"Let's see. First of all, we have the problems of what Susie-Floozie
is going to do after we leave. It would be most embarrassing if she
went running to the police. Even though it would be her word against
ours, any accusation would prejudice the pigs against us if they catch
us in another caper.
"So what to do, Susie? We can't take your word that you'll forgive and
forget, of course. So the obvious alternative would be to quietly slit
your throat after we finish doing you. After all, dead women don't
tell tales, any more than dead men do. Maybe we could have a little
fun along the way, like slicing your tits off first. How about it?"
"Please --" Susie protested. "Please don't kill me."
"Just like the classic advice they give to rape victims," Angie gloated.
"Survival is the first order of the day, no matter what the price.
OK, so let's negotiate the price.
"It occurs that it might protect us if you let us take pictures of the
action -- plus some shots of you getting ready for the gig. That way,
if you scream Copper, we can show that you were really cooperating.
And you would find yourself in trouble, anyway, for contributing to
the delinquency of minors. Well, we're not all minors, exactly, but
a teacher is supposed to be guardian of her students' morals, and all
that."
"Yeah," pointed out one of the boys. "Even if we did get into hot water,
they'd blame her more than they would us. Shame on you, you hussy!"
he whittled his finger at Susie, "leading us into the paths of temptation."
"So let's have your opinion, Susie dear," Angie went on. "Will you
pose for the pictures, or do you consider it a fate worse than death?
Literally, that is," she added.
Susie forced herself to nod her acquiescence.
"And now for the other question. Are you willing to give me a real
first-class Frenching, or would you rather be fucked by the boys?"
"Please -- I'll do what you want," Susie wailed.
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 9 - pinch breasts, strip, forced lesbian
The boys licked their lips. Things were really beginning to shape up.
They knew that Angie would provide some kind of entertainment for them,
after she'd had hers. But no sense worrying Susie about that now. One problem at a time.
"OK", said Angie. "The first thing is for you to make yourself
presentable. First, let's wash your face."
h#
All resistance gone, Susie let them take her by the arm and half-lead,
half-drag her to the bathroom, where they washed away all trace of tears.
Then Angie took a make-up kit from her purse, and started painting
Susie's face. When she had finished, Susie looked like a Skid Row whore,
although it was still easy to recognize who she was.
Then back to the bedroom.
With the confidence of someone who has been through it all before, Angie
directed the boys to set up the cameras and video tape recorders in
positions where they would capture all of the action, and still would
include enough of the background so that anyone who had ever seen the
inside of Susie's bedroom would immediately recognize it. Then she turned
to Susie, the unwilling star of the show.
b#
"First, let's see you smile, darling. No, not a fixed grin like that. Try
to look as if you are enjoying every moment of it." She reinforced the
command by squeezing Susie's breast agonizingly.
"There," she crooned. "If you behave yourself, you'll save yourself a
lot of pain -- and maybe some things that you'll dislike even more than
pain." She emphasized her point with another pinch -- hard enough to
hurt like fire, even through the bra.
s#
"Now take off your clothes, darling. Nice and slow."
Susie understood. Slowly, tantalizingly, she slid her blouse down over
her shoulders, posing and smiling all the while like a fashion model.
Then she let the blouse fall to the floor in a heap. Next, her skirt.
The boys whistled enthusiastically at the view of her glorious thighs,
which her panties, although conservatively cut, did more to emphasize
than to conceal.
And then her bra.
She tried desperately to keep her mind on other things as she unfastened
the catch, slid the straps over her shoulders, and finally let the skimpy
garment fall to the floor. Then the further humiliation of having to
flaunt her firm young breasts, cupping her hands under them and offering
them to the camera, all the while keeping that pseudo-lascivious smile on her face.
And the whistles and catcalls of the boys didn't make her feel any better.
She was really surprised when Angie told her to keep her panties on, "for
the moment, anyway. It'll be even more sexy when we do our Lesbian bit.
And why would I want to have access to your cunt, anyway?"
l#
Angie wasn't kidding about the Lesbian bit. She was wise beyond her years
when it came to sex, and she did things with her fingers and tongue that
quickly brought Susie to peaks of desire that she had never known before.
But only desire -- Angie was very careful to deny her fulfillment,
stopping each time just as Susie was about to come, breaking the spell
with a pinch or a slap that left Susie in a fire of frustration.
And then Angie demanded her turn, guiding Susie through all the intimate
motions that she had once thought thoroughly sinful and disgusting, but
seemed, after Angie's preliminaries, the most natural thing in the world
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 10 - blow jobs for the camera
"But don't start thinking you're home free, Susie darling," Angie warned.
"The guys are willing to let you off without fucking -- tonight,
anyway -- but only if you give them the best Frenching that they've ever
had in their lives. Just one hint of resistance, or one feel of your
teeth, and it's twat time. And maybe asshole time, too," she added as
an afterthought. "Have you got that, Sweetie?"
Susie nodded that she understood.
"And I'll add one more rule," the blonde went on. "All the time, you've
got to be smiling prettily for the camera, and doing your best to make
it look like this was a labor of love."
Angie turned to the boys. "Now you guys with the cameras. Make sure that
we get a clear view of Susie's face in every shot, plus a good look at
the prick that she's sucking. If you can get a good shot of her bedroom
in the background, fine -- but the main thing is that every picture must
show, without any chance of mistake, who she is, and what she's doing.
"And I know that you guy are a little camera-shy, but I do want enough of
your identity to show so it'll be clear that she's blowing more than one fellow.
"And now for the good news. It'll take three guys to man the cameras, and
of course one will be the beneficiary of Susie's ministrations. That
leaves one more fellow. If you want, I'll warm up each guy who's on deck,
to get him ready for the blow job."
w#
The guys cheered. They knew what Angie's "warm-ups" were like. They just
had to make sure that they had something left for Susie after they were
thoroughly warmed up.
"And now, Susie baby, prepare to meet your doom." Susie shuddered. The
expression was all too appropriate.
Chuck deserved the honor of being first, but he deferred to one of the
other boys "so I can have the fun of Angie's warm-up. After all", he
pointed out, "it isn't exactly a case of taking sloppy seconds."
They drew straws to see who got the honor of taking Chuck's place, and
they all cheered the winner.
o#
Susie knew what she had to do. When the candidate had taken off his
pants and stretched out on the bed -- the bed that she shared with Jim,
Susie remembered with anguish -- she climbed up and lowered her head.
At a reminder from Angie, she grinned at the camera, then adjusted her
position a little so that they could get a clear shot of her face as
she parted her lips and bent to the disgusting task.
This is what Jim always wanted to do, she thought. Maybe this ordeal is
a punishment because I wouldn't do it for him.
Swallowing back the vomit that rose to her throat, Susie touched the
monster tentatively her lips, eliciting a moan of pleasure. Then,
at another prodding word, she parted her lips, took the repulsive thing
into her mouth.
At least it didn't last long. The boy had been loaded for bear, and it
only took a few strokes before he shouted in ecstasy and shot his wad
right into Susie's mouth, grabbing her by the hair and holding her so
she couldn't back away, until she had to swallow the whole disgusting mess.
And then it was Chuck's turn. To make sure it wasn't "sloppy seconds",
he made Susie brush her teeth and gargle before he lay down for her. Or
rather, he let the other fellows make her do it -- he didn't want to
lose the momentum of Angie's "warm-up".
As soon as her face got near Chuck's prick, Susie knew what the "warm-up"
meant. The thing smelled and tasted like Angie's cunt -- a smell and
taste that Susie had gotten all too used to while she was Frenching
the younger girl. Apparently Angie, unsated by Susie's blow job, had
been having Chuck fuck her.
* * * * *
Somehow, Susie survived the ordeal. Their preferences varied. One of
the fellows preferred to be on top, with Susie lying passively on her
back, while he rammed his dick into her as far as her tonsils. Another
went for the delicate touch, and had Susie tongue him gently, so that
when he finally came it shot all over her face. Another had her kneel
over his face, instead of between his legs, so he could squeeze her
breasts agonizingly while she serviced him.
And so on. She lost count of the number of times her face was raped,
but she was sure that every one of the boys had her at least twice.
But anyway, she consoled herself, if she stole all their strength with
her blow jobs, she could be all the more confident that they would not
break their word and invade her cunt after she had done her damnedest
to satisfy them with her hitherto virgin mouth.
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 11 - frustrating lesbianism, female masturbation
Finally the last boy finished raping Susie's face, and rolled, exhausted,
to the side of the bed. Angie smiled her malevolent smirk once more.
"OK, Susie darling," she grinned. "It's your turn now."
Susie cringed. What on earth was left? Was there any other humiliation that
she had not already suffered?
And then Angie was kneeling beside her, caressing Susie's nipples with
her fingers and tongue, once more rousing in Susie the swelling of unbidden
passion that had been so frustratingly cut short each time. But this time,
Angie was more generous. She kept the gentle manipulations going far
longer than she had before, until Susie knew that she would go crazy if she
didn't come soon.
Caught up in the rising tide of passion, Susie made no objection when she
felt Angie's fingers at the waistband of her panties, felt the younger
girlstart to take off that one remaining garment. She eagerly raised her
hips, impatiently helping Angie to strip her.
f#
And then Angie's tongue was on her. Susie writhed in ecstasy, fully aware
that she was but seconds away from orgasm . . .
Suddenly, Angie was gone again. With a little cry of dismay, Susie opened
her eyes, saw that Angie was starting to put her clothes back on. "It's
just like you told us about T.S. Eliot, Teacher," she taunted. "Not with
a bang, but with a whimper. Only this time, the T.S. is for you. But you're
a big girl now -- I'm sure that you can figure out how to finish by yourself."
m#
They all walked out of the room, leaving Susie in the depths of frustration.
Without conscious volition, as if she were a passive spectator, Susie felt
her hands creeping under their own power to the tops of her thighs, her
fingers spreading the dripping lips of her cunt, thrusting deep inside.
One of her fingers found her clitoris, and started massaging gently.
She knew that what she was doing was sinful, against all the teachings of
her parents and her church, but there was no way she could possibly stop
now. Eyes clenched shut, she continued the blissful rubbing and probing
until everything exploded into an eruption of passion. She lay through
the aftershocks, trying to ignore the wave of guilt that was already spoiling
the experience for her. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes.
And gave a small scream of dismay. They hadn't left the room at all, she
saw with sinking heart. As soon as she had closed her eyes, the whole
group had tiptoed back into the room, and witnessed her final degradation,
taking pictures of her in the throes of self-abuse.
They gave her a round of ironic applause.
"That schtick alone was worth the price of admission," Angie crooned.
"The kids at school are going to go ape when they see these pictures of
Teacher finger-fucking herself. We should make a tidy bit of change peddling
these pictures locally, even before we get around to releasing them for
national distribution."
"No!" Susie protested. She forgot about her nakedness and the ordeal of
humiliation she had gone through. "You can't show those pictures to
anybody! Please -- you promised that they were only for your own protection!"
"Sure," Angie chuckled. "And the best possible way to protect ourselves
would be to discredit you ahead of time. And you'll have to admit there
isn't any better way to discredit you than to circulate these pictures of
you masturbating. Right in your own bedroom -- with black sating sheets,
yet! And with cameras looking on.
"I guess the kids -- and the parents too -- never guessed how kinky their
sweet little teacher is. And you can just imagine what effect these
pictures will have on your hubby's business," she went on.
Susie's heart sank further. She had been too concerned about her own
reputation, she felt guiltily. She hadn't even stopped to realize
that she was betraying Jim at the same time.
Dimly, she realized that Angie was still speaking. "Of course, there is
one thing you could do . . ."
"Please . . ." Susie begged.
"That's the magic word, Susie-Floozie," Angie taunted. "If you do please
us enough, maybe we'll let you off the hook. For a while, at least."
Susie knew what was next, but she didn't have any choice. "I'll do what
you want," she mumbled, hanging her head in shame.
"OK, Sweetie, then it's a date. One week from today. And we'll expect you
to be real nice to us in school in the meantime. We'd like to make it
earlier," she added, "but we've got to choose a time when Jimmy boy is
sure to be away. And after all, we do have other girl friends to attend
to in the meantime.
"Oh, and one other thing." Angie opened her purse, took out a little
packet. "I don't know whether you're on the Pill or not, but we don't
want to take any chances. Here's a month's supply. I want you to start taking
them right away. Next week, there's going to be some real fucking."
While they put their clothes on, the youngsters made Susie stand there,
naked, with her hands clasped behind her, completely exposed to their
lecherous stares and their ribald remarks. And the caresses of their
rough hands. When they were finally ready to leave, Angie delivered her
parting shot.
"An old-fashioned girl like you might persuade herself that a little
promiscuous fucking is a fate worse than death, as they used to call it.
Well, maybe it is, and maybe it isn't. It's all in the way you look at
it.But remember, Honey, if you decide to commit suicide, or run away, or
something, there'll be absolutely nothing left to keep us from circulating
these pictures, regardless of what they might do to your precious husband's life.
"So I guess that's about it, Honeybunch. No -- wait a minute -- there is
one other little thing." She reached into her handbag, took out a bottle
of pills. "I can understand the excitement and the ecstasy of all this
Forbidden Passion might have left you a bit overwrought. And we don't
want you taking any hasty action in this condition. So you're going to
take this sleeping pill. You'll be amazed at the difference in your
outlook a good night's sleep will make."
Angie's hand went to Susie's breast, squeezing menacingly, cutting off
the older girl's protest before she could voice it. Reluctantly, Susie
swallowed the pill, washing it down with water that one of the boys had
brought from the bathroom. She sat dumbly as the feeling of drowsiness
started to overcome her, watching the group strip the black sheets from
the bed and replace them with Susie's own linen, saw them pack up the
camera and video equipment. Unprotesting, she let Angie and the boys
dress her in her own nightgown, dimly aware of the last-moment liberties that
they were taking with her body.
She was almost completely out as they headed for the door, barely hearing
Angie's parting shot: "So long, Teach, see you tomorrow. Don't do
anything I wouldn't do!"
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 12 - morning after, no undies
Angie had been right about one thing -- the night's sleep did make a big
difference. Susie woke with a sense of euphoria that she had not felt
since she was a child.
Later on, as she looked back, Susie assumed that the sense of well-being
was due either to the complete relaxation that had been produced by the
sleeping pill, or the after-effects of the wild orgasm she had given herself at
the end of her ordeal.
But that was later. At the moment, she had forgotten the ugly evening
entirely. She stretched luxuriously, revelling in the present. And then
she realized what had wakened her.
The telephone was still ringing, determined not to be ignored. She lifted
the instrument lazily, murmured into the microphone.
Suddenly, the terror and shame of the night before came flooding back.
"Hi, Teach," Angie's voice taunted her. "Have you been getting any?" As
Susie groped for words, Angie spoke again, her voice hardening. "Just to
make sure you don't call in sick, or something," she grated. "We do so
look forward to your bright smile each day. And I'm sure that you don't want
to miss the Principal's daily proposition," she added with a sneer.
"So answer me, cunt!" she barked. "You'll be there today, won't you?"
Susie swallowed hard. She knew that she was at the mercy of this little
monster."I'll be there," she moaned.
Angie gave a low, sensuous chuckle. "I figured that you wouldn't be able
to stay away from the fellows, after your sentimental interlude with them,"
she taunted. "They are fellows of good taste, you'll have to agree." She
rolled the word "taste" suggestively on her tongue. "So we'll see you as usual.
d#
"Oh, and one more thing," she added as if in afterthought. "Just as a
gesture of friendship, we don't want you to wear a bra to school from now
on. Or panties, either. Well, so long now. Don't be late." She hung up
before Susie could protest.
Her euphoria destroyed by the phone call, Susie rolled out of bed,
dragged herself to the bathroom. Mechanically, she went through the routine of
shower and her other morning ablutions, then went into the kitchen, where
she poured a bowl of cereal.
But the thought of swallowing brought back the revolting memories of last
night, and she just couldn't choke anything down. Giving it up as a bad
job, she went back to the bedroom (where the memories weren't any more
pleasant) and started dressing.
She put on blouse and skirt, carefully choosing a thick dark material
that would not reveal the absence of underwear, even under the most searching
light. But she couldn't go through with it. She felt naked without her
bra and panties. Naked and sinful, and reminded again of the defilement of
last night. Which was just what that gang of young demons wanted, she realized.
"Fuck them!" she muttered, aghast at her own use of the dirty word. Peeling
off her blouse, she shrugged into a bra, defiantly buttoned the blouse
again; then wiggled her hips into a pair of briefs.
Then off to school, where she knew that the class would be waiting for
her like a pack of wolves.
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 13 - back to school, extra date tonight
Angie intercepted Susie in the hall, at the classroom door. "Hi, Teach!"
she said brightly. "You're looking chipper this morning. I guess that
you must have done something fun last night.
h#
"By the way," she went on, "we've told some of the kids about it. And
showed them the pictures, of course -- they didn't believe us at first.
We won't tell you which kids we told -- we sort of think it would
entertain you to guess about it. But you can just imagine how they all
want to get in on next week's fun." Throwing Susie one last malevolent
smile, the little blonde glided into the room.
They looked just like a wolf pack, Susie told herself. And there was
no way of knowing which ones were in on her guilty secret. If any at
all. It would be just like Angie to lie about something like that,
just to make her squirm. But by the way they were staring at her bosom
and crotch, she was sure that at least some of them knew . . .
Take Jack, for instance. She knew what his hands were doing, inside
his pockets. (editor's note: we used to call this "pocket pool") And
Sylvia. She could see a gleam of envy in Sylvia's eyes. The poor girl
would have done anything to be the center of attention of a bunch of
boys like that, not realizing that it was all just so much pain and
humiliation. And Bill. And Henry. And . . .
Susie found it impossible to keep her mind on her teaching, found her
attention wandering in mid-sentence, found herself blushing furiously
every time she heard one of her rapists asking questions about the
Shakespeare text. Loaded questions, like "Did Shakespeare really mean
it as a pun when he said 'the Trojan's trumpet' just after Cressida
finished speaking?" Or the salacious emphasis they put on innocent
words, like "Trojan", or "come", or "prick".
Damn! she thought. Why did they have to be studying "Troilus and
Cressida" now, anyway, with its broad references to sexual promiscuity,
and its pun on the word "pander"?
She managed somehow to get through the period, although she would have
been hard put to tell anyone what she had said. And then the visit to the Principal's office.
p#
It was probably her imagination, she told herself, but it almost seemed
as if he too were in on the sadistic joke. His proposition was more
blatant than ever. He even went so far as to rest his hand on her ass,
pinning her up against the wall so that she couldn't squirm away.
"Look", he grated, "we both know that you're going to put out for me
sooner or later. So why prolong the agony? I'll bet that you want it
as much as I do -- or you would, if you didn't have your students to service you."
(Did he know, or was he just trying to bait her?)
"And believe me," he went on, "if I ever get any real proof that you've
been putting out for the kids, it's going to go hard with you. I'll
regard it as a personal insult that you kept giving me the brush-off
while you let them stick their young dicks into you."
She knew that she should slap his face and walk out of his office.
That's what she would have done yesterday. And he knew it, too, and
took her acceptance of her humiliation as proof of his charge. And
she knew that, too.
And then the last disaster of the day. Angie cornered her in the
classroom, asked her to step into the supply closet for a "heart-to-heart talk".
f#
"Thanks for joining me in this little tete-a-tete", Angie crooned. "Or
maybe I should say tit-a-tit." Her hands went caressingly to Susie's
breasts, while Susie moaned in discomfiture and helpless rage. Plus a
touch of unwanted arousal. And then she realized. Angie was checking
to see whether she was braless as ordered! She knew that the younger
girl could feel the bra, but Angie said nothing of it. She had something
else to say.
"I've got good news and bad news, teacher," she taunted. "The bad news
is that our regular date for tonight can't make it. Woman stuff, you know.
At least we know that the boys haven't knocked her up," she smirked. "Not
yet, anyway. She'll have to work extra hard next time, of course, for
mis-timing things like this. But that doesn't help us out tonight.
"So the good news is that this leaves us free to come over and rape you tonight.
t#
"Oh, I know that you haven't had time to get started with the Pill and
all. But in the course of rummaging through your medicine cabinet, I
found out that you use a diaphragm, so I don't think we'll have to worry
about getting you into a family way. I do want you to get started on the
Pill, though," she added. "It's so much less trouble that way, and you're
always ready to go at a moment's notice. And who knows when the boys
might get horny? Like during recess, or even between classes. After all,
they have a bed in the Teachers' room, don't they? Or there's always
the parking lot.
"And there's always the other advantage with the Pill," she pointed out,
"that we can fix it so you miss a period now and then, if we need you.
And I'm not talking about school periods, Miss Innocent. If we can do
away with your menstrual period when we need to, that'll just leave you
available for service more of the time."
Angie rode "home" in Susie's car that night. "The guys will follow in
their car, with the equipment," Angie pointed out.
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 14 - lesbian grope, ready for the whipping
That remark about the "equipment" bothered Susie, more even than the
threat of another gang rape. She was sure that it meant something
kinky, something that meant that extra pain and degradation would
accompany the rape.
h#
And then Angie's hand drove the thought out of her mind. Creeping
under Susie's skirt, hiking the skirt above her knees. Inching its
way up her leg, insinuating itself between her thighs, ever upward.
Susie yelped in shock and pain as Angie's fingers closed in a cruel
pinch, holding her like a vise. She almost drove the car off the
road in her struggles.
And then the hold relaxed, and she felt Angie's fingers working their
way under her panties, this time gently probing. A deep red flushed
Susie's face as Angie's probing finger -- then two fingers -- worked
their way inside her; started stroking sensuously, arousing her
desire in spite of her grim determination not to respond.
Angie laughed aloud as the juices began to flow, and she started an
in-and-out motion that soon had Susie moaning in hated ecstasy.
"Like it, Susie dear?" Angie taunted. As always, she withdrew before
Susie could achieve a release, laughing at the older girl's desperate
frustration. "Don't worry, Teach," she teased. "The boys'll have
something even better for you -- and this will get you all lubricated
so they'll have all the more fun."
By now, they had reached Susie's house, the car with the boys and
the "equipment" following close behind. Susie saw them unloading a
battered suitcase, carrying it into the house.
"We'll store the stuff at your house," Angie announced, "so we
won't have to bring it with us every time we drop in. I'm sure that
you can find someplace to stash it where Hubby won't get curious
about it. On second thought," she chuckled, "maybe we should let
Hubby in on the secret. He just might get a bang out of it." Susie
groaned inwardly.
"After all," Angie added. "we did charge it to your credit card --
those parts that we didn't build, of course.
"So now," Angie said in a businesslike tone, "I see that the boys
have the video recorder all ready, so let's get going. Strip for
us, Honey, just like you did last night."
s#
Moving mechanically, trying to keep her thoughts on something else,
Susie shrugged out of her blouse, let the skirt fall to the floor,
and stood before them in bra, panties, and shoes. She never wore
stockings on a hot day like this -- the tanned flesh of her legs
looked a lot like stockings, anyhow.
And then the moment that Susie had been dreading. "I see that you
disobeyed our orders about the bra and panties, darling", Angie
drawled ominously. "I suppose you just decided that we didn't mean
what we said?"
"No!" Susie protested. "It's just that I felt -- I felt naked without them!"
"Which is just what we wanted, Susie dear," Chuck teased. "Naked
is the way we like you best, baby."
"Ah well, you'll just have to be taught a lesson," Angie purred
in mock sorrow. "So take off your bra now, and get ready for the
punishment. And take off your panties, too, while you're at it."
Reluctantly, Susie inched out of her bra and panties. She was
embarrassed, yes, but no more so than last night -- even when they
put their hands on her. But she was concerned with the threat of
"punishment", and she didn't like the idea that taking her bra off
seemed to be a prerequisite for that punishment. What were these
young monsters going to do to her breasts?
The boys had been unpacking some of the "equipment", although they
had been dividing their attention with the "free show" that Susie
was being forced to provide. And now Chuck picked up one piece of that equipment.
It looked harmless enough -- a pulley, with a rope through it. One of
the boys stood on a chair, and fastened the pulley to one of the
open beams that supported the roof of the house. They buckled a pair
of leather cuffs around Susie's wrists and made them fast to the
rope that was reeved through the pulley, making the rope fast at a
length that held Susie's wrists at about the level of her shoulders.
A spreader held the ropes apart, so that the poor girl couldn't use
her hands to cover her nakedness.
"Now for the lesson," Angie gloated. "How about it, Chuck, do you
want to use the Crushers, or would you rather start with the spiders?"
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 15 - nipple irritation ("spiders")
Chuck paused for a moment, ostensibly thinking it over. But Susie
suspected that he had made up his mind long ago, that his hesitation
was just to prolong her agony. "For dramatic effect", as she had
taught them in her English class.
"Well," he said hesitantly, "obviously little Susie is uncomfortable
when she doesn't have something on her tits -- she just told us so
herself. And I think we ought to be kind enough to indulge that
little whim of hers. Especially when it'll be fun for us, too." he grinned.
"As a general rule, I like the Crushers, but I'm afraid that they'd
get in the way of some other plans I have for Susie's tits tonight.
After all, we do owe her that punishment, you know. So I guess it'll
have to be the Spiders. We can always use the Crushers later," he
added hopefully.
n#
Angie enjoyed the horrified look on Susie's face. "Don't worry,
Susie dear," she gloated. "We aren't going to use real live spiders.
When we get around to the live spiders, they won't go on your tits.
Our rule is that all the living things, like spiders, and ants,
and caterpillars . . ."
". . . and fishworms," Chuck prompted.
"And fishworms," Angie agreed. "All those creepy crawly living
things don't go on the tits. They go up the twat instead." She
let the horror of that implication sink in for a few seconds.
"The Spiders," she went on, "are a little gem that we borrowed
from the Spanish Inquisition. With modifications. Those guys used
to make them of cast iron, but Chuck couldn't quite manage that,
without having access to a foundry. He came up with a pretty good
substitute, though. Suppose you explain them to her, Chuck. That
way, she can get a foretaste of the pain, even before we put them on her."
"Delighted, my lady." Chuck bowed mockingly. "They're very simple,
really. We make them out of stiff fine wire, such as you can buy
at Radio Shack, or any other electronics supply house. The
technical term is number 18, solid hook-up wire. First, we cut
the wire into 1-inch lengths, and strip it.
"We love to strip things," he leered. "But in this case, it just
means taking off the insulation. Then we solder three of the
wires together at their midpoints. Just think of a star, or a
three-legged X, and you'll get the picture. The next move is to
bend the ends of the legs down at right angles, about a quarter
of an inch from the crossover point, so it gives something that
looks like the skeleton of a miniature dome. Or a six-legged
spider -- hence the name. Et voila!"
Susie's gaze was drawn hypnotically to the two small objects in
Chuck's hand. She already had a premonition as to their diabolical use.
"They don't really look all that sinister, do they?" Angie cooed.
"And they're quite tame, compared with the originals used by the
Inquisition. Those guys used to heat the spiders red hot before
using them. But we love you too much to do that, Susie darling.
Besides, on a practical level, it would be awfully hard to explain
to Hubby if we burned your nipples off. It would be fun, to watch
you dance, though . . ." she added dreamily.
Angie took one of the Spiders from Chuck's palm. Slowly, deliberately,
watching the horrified expression on Susie's face, she positioned the
Spider carefully over one of the helpless girl's nipples, then pressed it into place.
The legs didn't pierce Susie's skin, but the irritation of that most
tender flesh was still painful enough to elicit a sharp gasp. Humming
a little tune to herself, Angie applied a strip of adhesive tape to
hold the little treasure firmly in place, and tapped it lightly with
her fingertip, driving new pain into Susie's helpless body.
And then the other nipple . . .
"It'll grow on you as the party goes on," Angie taunted. "Every time
your tits jiggle, the tape will pull the little fellow in for another
bite. And the real beauty is that they are so inconspicuous. You
could wear them to a party under a low-cut evening gown, and nobody
would suspect the fun you were having underneath. You could even
wear one on your clit, too", she added as an afterthought.
"As a matter of fact," she went on, "I think we'll let you wear
them to school on a regular basis for a while, so you won't have
to feel naked without something on your tits. We might even have
you wear your bra over them, to start out with. After a couple of
days of that, I bet you'd welcome the chance to do without your
precious bra."
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 16 - whipped (especially breasts), breast clamps ("crushers")
"And now for the lesson," Chuck said happily. Susie screamed when she saw
the whip that he was taking from the "equipment" suitcase. Or more like a
rod than a whip, like the ones she had read about in Dickens. The whip had
no lash, and was just a flexible switch, about two feet long. Chuck walked
around her, savoring her helpless nudity, swishing the switch through the
air as he looked her over.
b#
And then the blow. Full force, across the upper slopes of both breasts. A
thin red welt crossed the flawless ivory surface. Susie's scream tore her throat.
Chuck rubbed his hand across the welt, pressing those damned spiders as
he did so. "Not bad," he muttered, "but a little unsporting. It's much more
fun with a moving target."
The other kids knew what was next. One of them grabbed one of Susie's
wrists, pulled it downward. The rope through the pulley yanked her other
wrist toward the ceiling, making her reach painfully to arm's length.
Then another boy pulled that wrist down, hauling the first one up. By mutual
consent, they set up a rhythm, so that Susie was forced to extend one arm
to full length, then the other. And again, and again.
She knew what "moving target" they had in mind, even before Chuck reached
into the suitcase and took out another whip. A long lash, this time, with
a knot on the end. He snapped it with unerring aim, driving excruciating
pain through her breasts as they danced up and down. And every now and
then it hit on one of the Spiders, multiplying the pain.
Then one of the other boys took over the whip. And another. They didn't
limit their attentions exclusively to Susie's tits, even though those
were the main focus of their attention. Every now and then, one would snap the
lash into her cunt, or walk around behind her for a few whacks at her
ass. Or sometimes they would use two whips, and work on tits and ass at
the same time.
But bit by bit, they began to tire of the sport. After all, foreplay was
fun, but they had really come here for the fucking. And they were ready.
Boy, were they ever ready . . .
"OK, let's get our little whore ready for the main event," Chuck said at
last. "It's Crusher time."
c#
Susie had already guessed what the Crushers would be, but she still
gasped in horror as they took the Satanic device from the suitcase and held it
up for her inspection, explaining in loving detail what it would do to her.
They adjusted the device carefully to her dimensions, buckling the
support strap around her neck, and the other strap around her back, so that those
awful jaws were positioned properly around her breasts. Then carefully,
with cruel deliberateness that prolonged the agony to the breaking point,
they started tightening the tension strap.
Susie screamed again and again, long piercing shrieks of pure agony, as
the clamps closed mercilessly on the tender flesh of her breasts.
Finally, they decided that the pain was strong enough "for a background level",
and buckled the strap in position. They closed a padlock through the buckle,
to prevent Susie from loosening it until they were ready to let her use the key.
And then the really diabolical part of the device . . .
They locked a control cable thing onto a pair of rings in the tension
strap -- a long cable that ended in a handle something like the brake grip
of a bicycle, that increased the pain drastically whenever the handle was
squeezed. Chuck played with it a bit, not enough to make Susie faint, but
enough to impress on her the importance of immediate obedience.
"OK, Susie," he taunted. "It's fuck time. You guys take her into the
bathroom and see that she puts her diaphragm on, while Angie warms me up."
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 17 - gang rape
Angie had done her "warming up" well, Susie couldn't help noticing as
Chuck approached her.
r#
"We'll do it in the missionary position", Chuck told her, "just like you
do it for your husband, I imagine."
The mention of Jim sent new pain through Susie's heart. And she knew that
they knew that, too. Last night's ordeal had been bad enough, but this
time she was actually going to take those revolting objects into her
private parts, to accept their seed into her womb. Well, not quite the
womb, thanks to her diaphragm, but this would still be adultery, in the
most literal sense of the term.
And Chuck was making it as ugly as possible. He made her call him
"darling" and "sweetheart", and other endearments, and insisted that she
take his shaft and actually guide it in with her own hand. And then he
made her describe to him every sensation she felt as he entered her and
pumped to that revolting climax.
One thing, it was well lubricated with Angie's juices, so there was no
pain of entry. But the disgust of following her! And Chuck knew what she
was thinking, too, pointing out that "this time, it's you who are taking
sloppy seconds, Susie dear".
One by one, and then for seconds, and in some cases thirds, they ravished
her on her own bridal bed, leaving her feeling completely filthy and
used. But finally even this agony ended, and the boys started getting dressed.
l#
And then they realized that Angie hadn't been taking part in Susie's
defilement. Well, not a direct part, anyway. Not since the whipping, that
is. "How about you, Angie?" one of the boys said playfully. "We know you
don't have the rag on, or you wouldn't have been so willing to warm us
up. Aren't you going to take a turn with little Sue-Sue?"
Angie smiled, that slow wicked smile that Susie knew meant that she was
planning something particularly cruel. "It's OK, fellows." she reassured
them. "I'm going to spend the whole night with our little pigeon. And
just to make sure that I have a great time, I'm going to ask you to leave the
Crushers on her. You can put away the rest of the equipment, though. And
don't forget to lock the door when you go out."
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 18 - night with Angie, the "masked rapist", anal rape
Angie had great plans for Susie's first over-nighter. First, the Frenching,
with a violent climax, while she squeezed the Crushers until Susie almost
passed out from the agony.
e#
Next came the enema. "I don't want you having to get up in the night."
She made Susie lie on her own bed for the enema, taunting her with the
threat that it would run all over the bed if Susie lost control, and then
making her hold it inside her until Susie thought that she was surely
going to burst; finally letting her dash for the bathroom, to get rid of
the painful and disgusting load.
"There now," said Angie. "Now it'll be a couple of days before you have
to shit again. And you'll thank me for that, before we're finished."
And then to bed. But first, she buckled a collar around Susie's neck, and
attached it to a couple of straps that were fastened around her own
thighs, holding Susie's face to the younger girl's crotch. "We're going to sleep
like this, darling, and Heaven help you if I wake up any time during the
night and find that your tongue isn't inside my cunt."
The Crushers hurt like fire as Susie lay on her tummy, and the Spiders
bit cruelly as her weight pressed on her nipples. She didn't get much sleep that night . . .
In the morning, Angie unbuckled the collar around Susie's neck, and went
with her to the bathroom for morning ablutions. For some reason, Angie
seemed to be watching the clock.
r#
"Oh, I haven't told you yet, Susie dear, -- we're going to have a visitor
this morning. Just one last fuck, and then I'll leave you alone for the
rest of the weekend. Unless something special comes up," she added as an afterthought.
Susie's heart sank but, as always, she had no choice. Angie made her keep
the Crushers and Spiders on -- "After all, they might give lover boy some
interesting ideas" -- and then made Susie lie down.
"This John has some special requirements," Angie crooned. "For one thing,
he doesn't want you to know who he is -- after all, he's somebody you
know very well -- so you're going to have to wear a blindfold. And of course
he can't take any chances on your peeking, so he wants you to be tied up
while he screws you."
Susie had never felt more helpless than when Angie tied her to the brass
bed, arms stretched up over her head, feet drawn up near her wrists, so
hat her "private parts", (as she insisted on thinking of them, even
though her hopes of any privacy were fast disappearing) were exposed to
inspection and whatever other indignities her visitor might want to inflict on them.
A strap around her waist kept them down near the mattress, however. Angie
proceeded to take a number of pictures "for our scrapbook" before she
fastened on the blindfold, completing Susie's sense of utter helplessness.
And then her "visitor" came in. He squeezed the Crushers, and patted the
Spiders, abusing her breasts in the way that Susie had come to expect
from all men, and then she felt him spreading the lubricating jelly around the
lips of her cunt. Too much! she thought. with all that lubrication, he'll
take forever to get up enough friction to make him ejaculate.
So I'm becoming a sex maven, she though bitterly.
His rape wasn't very imaginative. He just stuck his thing into her and
started fucking. She could feel his passion rising, and knew that he was
going to come to a quick climax. Thank God for that. And then he pulled
out. What on earth?
s#
Susie screamed in sheer horror as she felt him ramming his thing, now well
lubricated with the jelly and her own sparse juices, into her virgin
asshole. The pain was bearable -- just -- but the sheer disgust at this
perverted act made Susie want to vomit. But she somehow endured this final
indignity, and felt his hot venom pouring into her, into the hole that
had never been intended for this disgusting use.
And finally he was gone, and Angie was taking off the blindfold and
untying her. "I'll let you take off the Crushers yourself -- here's the
key to the padlock. It'll be great fun to imagine you reaching around
behind your back to unfasten it, especially with the Crushers increasing
the pressure as you stretch around. But you'll make it -- you're a big
girl now. The Spiders shouldn't give you any trouble at all, although I'll
admit that I did use the old-fashioned kind of adhesive tape -- the kind
that hurts like hell when you rip it off.
"Be sure you stash the equipment in the suitcase. And I'll be over on
Monday morning, to help you get dressed for school."
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 19 - life is routine Susie never knew how she survived that weekend. Jim came home on Sunday, and they went through the motions of making love, but Susie knew that she was even less satisfying than usual. Her guilt (and the soreness in her breasts) kept her from making even the most perfunctory responses that she customarily made out of a sense of duty. She knew that Jim sensed something wrong, but with his customary generosity he overlooked it -- asking only if she was coming down with the flu, or something. Susie made a noncommittal answer, and Jim was satisfied. With the answer, that is. She didn't see how he could possibly be satisfied with the sex. And she dreaded going back to school. Angie's comment about the last rapist being someone she knew had thoroughly unnerved her. She knew that every man she saw from now on -- the male students, her butcher, the police guard at the crossing -- every one of them would raise in her mind the suspicion that he was the one. If she had been alone in this, she was sure that she would have committed suicide. Or at least run away. But then Jim would suffer the same disgrace that she was feeling. She had to go on, to keep playing the ugly game. Angie came over before school on Monday morning, to make sure that she wore those damned Spiders. Taping them on securely, Angie signed her name with a felt-tip pen, in such a manner that her signature was half on the tape and half on Susie's young breast. "Just to make sure that you don't take them off during the day, Susie dear. If you do, then I'll see that my signature is broken, and we can take the appropriate measures to punish you. "I don't know exactly what sort of punishment we'd use," she went on, "but my first thought is to make you wear the Crushers to school the next day." And then she taped a Spider over Susie's clit "for good measure". Making sure that Susie didn't put a bra or panties on, Angie rode to school with her. For the rest of the week, Angie wore those damned Spiders. To school, to the bridge club, even to church choir rehearsal. And it seemed that someone was always brushing up against her tits, to send fresh pain through her sensitive areolas. She was almost sure that the Principal knew what was going on (but how could he?), as his propositions were getting even more insistent, and his leer more insolent. He even cupped Susie's breast in his hand one time, while he tried to kiss her. (Did he even know about the Spiders, she wondered? Well, anyway, he knew by now that she wasn't wearing a bra.) And, except for her mounting suspicions, which she tried to dismiss as paranoia, the weeks became a routine. A dreadful routine, yes, but a routine none the less. At least once during the week, Angie and the boys came over for a gang bang, and Angie often slept over with Susie. Even on the nights she didn't sleep over, Angie showed up in the morning, to make sure that Susie wore the three spiders, and that she didn't wear any bra or panties to school. The boys were still callous when they raped Susie, but they didn't use the Crushers again (thank God!!). Except on Saturday mornings, when Susie's mystery visitor insisted that she wear both the Crushers and the Spiders. His routine never varied. First a little torture of her tits, then a warm-up in her cunt, followed by a butt fuck. And always the blindfold, and the reminder by Angie that he was someone that Susie knew, and had seen during the week.
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 20 - "party girl" prisoner
It was after the third week of Susie's enslavement that Angie initiated
the next escalation. Everything went as usual that Saturday morning. Jim
was away, and Angie had tied Susie to the bed, with Crushers and Spiders,
and the unknown man had raped her asshole. But this time, as a variation,
Angie didn't take those damned things off. Instead, she supervised
Susie's douching of her cunt and rectum, and then watched her while she dressed.
"Nothing fancy, honey -- just mini-skirt and blouse. I'll be able to feed
the control cable out at your waist, and hold it while you drive. It's
such beautiful weather that I think we should go for a ride in the
countryside," she explained.
Susie wasn't fooled for a moment by the girl's off-hand manner -- she
knew that the little bitch was up to some new deviltry. But there wasn't
much she could do about it with those damned Crushers on her breasts.
Meekly, she started up the car, Angie sitting beside her, and started out
the old State road.
c#
When they got to the Smith farm, Angie directed Susie to drive up to the
locked gate. A man's voice challenged them from a loudspeaker in the
gate-post. At Angie's direction, Susie told the loudspeaker "It's Angie
and Susie". The gate swung open on remote control, then closed behind
them as they drove up the long driveway. "Right up to the barn," Angie ordered.
Susie was amazed to see that the barn had been converted into a regular
parking garage, although there weren't any cars there at the moment. She
looked inquiringly at Angie.
"It gets busy at night," Angie explained, "when the party gets going. They
keep the cars of the guests out of sight, so they won't arouse the
suspicions of the passers-by. Also, none of the guests runs the risk of
people knowing that he's here," she leered. "Some of the parties get
really rowdy. But you'll see what I mean.
"I told Mrs. Smith that you were going to work for her as hostess," she added idly.
Susie had a premonition about what the girl meant by "party" and "hostess",
but the fear of those Crushers kept her quiet. Anyway, the doors had
closed behind them, and she realized that any resistance would be futile.
Guided by an occasional prod from Angie, Susie got out of the car, and
preceded the younger girl to the door that led through the connecting
passageway into the house. They were met by a woman who looked as if she
had been a wrestler.
"So this is Susie," she chuckled."I see that you're putting those Crushers
that I gave you to good use," she added, noticing the control box in Angie's hand.
"Yeah. I don't think she would have come out here so easily without them.
She's beginning to get a little skittish."
"So much more fun," the big woman replied, taking the control from Angie's
hand. "OK, bitch, let's go into the interrogation room."
i#
The interrogation room was meagerly furnished, with cabinets running
along the wall. The door was soundproof, Susie noticed.
The big woman, whom Angie introduced as "the matron", didn't waste any
time. "Strip!" she commanded in a hoarse monosyllable.
Once more, Susie had to bare her body before a stranger. And then they
fastened her wrists to a pair of straps that hung from the ceiling,
holding her in an erect position, but loosely enough so she didn't have
to rise up on her toes.
While Angie fastened Susie's ankles to a pair of rings in the floor,
holding her legs spread apart, the matron turned her attention to the
Spiders. She quickly understood what they were for, and tormented Susie
a bit by pressing them in deeper. She grinned at Susie's cry of pain and protest.
"Very neat," she commented. "Your work?"
"Mine and Chuck's," Angie replied. "He and I work well as a team."
"I'd like to buy a dozen or so of these for use at the club", the matron
went on. "We have some guests that would go ape over something like that."
"No problem," Angie replied.
"In fact, maybe you and Chuck could go on our payroll as consultants."
"We'd like that," Angie assented. "We just love to design things like
this, and I'm sure we could come up with some really great ideas if we
could talk to a few of your guests, and maybe watch them party. And maybe
we could experiment on some of your hostesses with the more cruel devices.
It gets to be pretty tiring being the only guinea pig," she added, rubbing
her breasts with remembered pain.
"Done!" the big woman said heartily. "And now, Susie baby," she said as
she smeared a little lubricating jelly on her fingers, "let's check out the working parts."
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 21 - digital examination Susie struggled and squirmed and screamed at the unwelcome invasion of her body, but the straps held her firmly in place, and her vaginal muscles were unable, of course, to keep the intruding finger out. As for her screams . . . "Cut down the noise, cunt!" the matron barked. "I love the music, but it's far too loud for this small room. Besides," she added ominously, "you want to save your voice for the benefit of the customers. After all, that's what they're paying for. Well, part of it, anyway." At a reminder from the Crushers, Susie's screams subsided to a whimper. "Nice and tight," the matron murmured. Does she know what to do with it, Angie?" "Well," Angie smirked, "I don't know first hand, of course. All I can say from personal experience is that her tongue is really something else. But I have heard the fellows say that she's a lousy fuck," she added. "If it hadn't been for the fact that she hates it so much -- and demonstrates that fact so prettily -- I think that they would have got tired of her long ago." "No matter," gloated the matron. "We can teach her the proper techniques in no time at all." Her finger moved on to Susie's asshole. "Now there's what I'd call tight!" she exclaimed in admiration. "Is her brownie cherry, by any chance?" Susie was practically dying of embarrassment, the way these two harpies were talking about her so intimately, just as if she weren't there at all. "No," said Angie. "You-know-who has been banging her asshole every Saturday for the last couple of weeks. He doesn't want her to know who he is," she went on, in a conspiratorial tone. The matron laughed uproariously. "The old Masked Rapist bit, hey? I bet it makes life interesting for little Susie, wondering every time she meets a man whether he's her Secret Lover." "I'm not surprised that her hole is so tight, in that case," she continued."He doesn't have hardly anything to poke a girl with, anyway. But don't worry, we can stretch it a little, right along while we teach her how to fuck with it." "Can I watch while you do that?" Angie asked.. "Maybe I could pick up a few pointers myself." The matron chuckled. "Sure thing, baby. If you want, we can even set up a training session for you . If you really co-operate, and with a body like yours, you could easily become the best fuck in the county. Except maybe for Susie," she added as an afterthought. "Maybe you'd even like to work for us?" she added hopefully. Angie thought it over. "It just might be fun," she admitted. "But I'd have to be allowed to pick my own customers, and to say just how far they'd be permitted to go." "Maybe," the big woman grunted. "You'd have to be careful that the other girls didn't learn about your independence, though. It would be bad for morale -- both theirs and yours. They'd really make life Hell for you if they thought you were a fink. And the Johns would have to think that they had free rein. Maybe we could work it out, though. "But meanwhile, let's get little Susie calibrated." "Calibrated?" Angie echoed. "That sounds awfully scientific. What does it mean in ordinary English?" "Very simple," the matron replied in an offhand tone. "We're going to find out how much pain our little treasure can take before she passes out."
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 22 - calibration of tolerance for pain
The matron withdrew her finger from Susie's asshole, sniffed it a moment.
"Here, suck this clean," she barked, holding the loathsome thing near Susie's face.
Susie rebelled for a moment. Then the Crushers . . .
c#
"You see," the matron said to Angie,"some of our clients are down-to-earth
types that just turn the torture on full blast, and fuck the consequences.
If the broad is unconscious when they're ready to screw her, they just
stick their pricks into her, and have the time of their lives, whether
she responds or not."
"Others -- and I would tend to be in that category -- want their victims
to know exactly what's going on, every moment. They figure that they're
paying by the hour, and they want to fill every minute of that hour with
delightful torment. And an important part of the torture is that the girl
should know exactly when she is being raped, and by whom she is being
raped, and how she is being raped." The matron obviously liked the word
"rape", and the way Susie winced when she said it.
The matron had been buckling something to Susie's ankle during her
monologue -- something that looked a little like the cuff that the doctor
uses to measure blood pressure. "A harmless little thing," the matron
pointed out. "It doesn't get in the way at all, and it sends signals to
the control board by radio. Telemetering is the fancy word the engineer
who designed it for us used.
"The cuff monitors blood pressure, heart rate, rate of perspiration,
muscle tension, and a few other things. Sort of like a lie detector.
And we've found that those signals change with pain in a very uniform
pattern. Different from one victim to another, but the same every time
for the same girl. It doesn't matter what the nature of the pain is;
the response is the same for the same total amount of pain. And once we
have a girl's response pattern recorded, we can tell exactly when one
more ounce of pain will drive her over the edge of unconsciousness.
"Now, I could just put the squeeze on these little beauties" (she caressed
Susie's breasts) "until she passes out, and I'd have all the data I need.
But we've got lots of time -- time for a little fun. Besides, Susie might
learn a little about constructive attitudes if we make the pain last a little longer.
"So I'm going to play a little game. I'm going to try to outguess the
monitor. I'll start out nice and easy, and slowly increase the pain until
I think we've almost reached the limit. It won't be hard to guess pretty
nearly the right level, as you can tell a lot just by watching the
victim's face. Then, instead of going directly to the breaking point,
I'll relax for a moment before building it up to a slightly higher level.
It'll be great fun to watch the kid's response."
They put a gag over Susie's mouth, to stifle her screams. And then they
set to work. To add to the fun, the matron let Angie use the cattle prod
on Susie's cunt while she tortured the poor girl's tits. And all the
while she kept up a description of the potentialities of the fiendish device,
as much for Susie's benefit as for Angie's. And for her own, of course --
she loved to talk about inflicting pain.
"As I remarked, the thing that counts is the total amount of pain, not
the nature of the pain. So the client can work out an imaginative
schedule, shifting from the tits to the cunt, and possibly other parts of the body,
and alternating between whips and needles and clamps and whatever else he
happens to think of. Or combinations thereof. And the meter will warn
him every time he's approaching the danger point, so he can let up on one
of the sources of pain while he bears down on another.
"Or we can even set the damned thing on automatic. We can fasten on the
clamps and electrodes, etcetera, and hitch them up to electrically
operated controls. Then we can put a little program into the controls,
that cycles the pain from one type to another. And one part of the body
to another. And then all we have to do is turn it on and walk away."
"But what fun is there in that?"
"No fun, except when you come back in a couple of hours to see how she's
doing. But it's a great time saver when you want to punish a cunt for a
couple of hours. Or if she's scheduled for a date with a particularly
imaginative rapist, and you want to give her a softening up session, to
persuade her of the wisdom of going along with his kinky ideas."
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 23 - teaching machine for a whore
For the next eternity, Susie suffered the tortures of the damned. The
matron was an expert, and could judge Susie' capacity for pain very
accurately, and was able to prolong the poor girl's agony to
unbelievable lengths. But finally, mercifully, Susie passed out, and
the matron gleefully entered the appropriate data into the computer.
When Susie regained consciousness, she found herself strapped to a table.
>From a great distance, an alarm bell was ringing -- an alarm which the
matron turned off as soon as it had warned her of Susie's recovery.
"On with the training session!" she gloated.
t#
Taking a long rubber dildo from one of the cabinets, she held it up for
Susie's inspection. "Looks like fun, doesn't it?" she taunted. "But this
one is very, very special. When you squeeze it, it lights up a little blue
indicator on the control board." She demonstrated. "And now," she pushed
the thing into Susie's cunt, "we're going to watch you squeeze it. If you
keep your eye on the board, you'll see a green light come on now and then.
When it does, you'll have half a second to squeeze. If you don't make it
in time . . ." Susie screamed, and strained futilely against her bonds, as
the horrid thing sent an electric shock through her tender tissues.
"But -- but wait!" Susie screamed. "That's not fair! I don't know how to
squeeze it," she wailed.
"Damn!" grunted the matron. "No wonder the boys say that you're a lousy
fuck. Well, I'd suggest that you learn real fast. Just try out all of the
muscles in the area until you find something that works. And just keep
watching the control board. Green means squeeze, red means stop. Just
like driving a car. And any time your response lags more than half a
second, ZOWIE!"
With such a strong motivation, Susie learned quickly, although not before
she had endured several devastating shocks. Finally, she was able to
avoid all shocks, even squeezing tighter or more lightly as the brightness of
the light indicated. "And now, for the next step . . ."
The matron buckled a broad belt about Susie's waist -- a belt that was
fitted with all sorts of contraptions. She fastened a rod from the belt
to an eye on the dildo. "And here we have the answer to a maiden's prayer",
she smirked. "A fucking machine." She threw a switch, and sure enough,
the dildo began probing in and out. Susie felt her body begin to respond to
this normal stimulation, her juices begin to flow.
The matron smiled at her involuntary reaction. "Feels good, eh?" she
taunted. "But don't let it get out of control. If you go into orgasm,
it'll throw all of your squeezing out of rhythm, and you'll be in for
quite a session of those shocks. It happens now and then, but seldom more
than once with the same girl," she smirked.
"You may not have noticed yet," she went on, "but the lights are
synchronized with the thrusts of that pecker that's drilling your cunt.
This is what we call real-time simulation. After you get the feeling of
the rhythm -- now, I think -- we turn off the lights, and you're flying
by the seat of your pants, if you'll pardon the expression -- your
response has to be timed to the feel alone."
Everything went smoothly for a short time, then suddenly Susie screamed
again, as the rhythm changed without warning. The matron and Angie
laughed uproariously. "You've got to keep alert, honey. There's no way
on earth that you can trust a john to keep up a regular rhythm, like a
robot. You've got to be sensitive to his variations, and to adjust your
responses accordingly."
After a while, Susie got the hang of it. She was able to sense even the
most abrupt changes in rhythm, and to adjust her squeezes to match.
And then they put in another dildo -- in her asshole, this time. "The
drill is the same here, honey. With one exception. You'll notice that
this one has a nice snug comfortable fit. But it's going to swell bit by
bit, as the training session goes on. Not fast enough to hurt -- you
probably won't even be aware of it. But by the end of the session, you'll
be wide enough to accommodate any cock that I've ever seen. And I've
seen a lot of them," she added.
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 24 - lesbian rape again
There was one more detail to learn: the response to an orgasm. The dildo
left no doubt as to what was going on in the body of her imaginary
rapist, and Susie soon learned that her own response had to be equally abandoned.
"And now the hard part," the matron said. "Now you're going to learn how
to use both holes at the same time. It'll take a little concentration
until you get the hang of it, but you'll find that a little experience will
make you a real expert in the art of sandwich fucking."
And it did take a little while -- a very painful while. But, as the matron
had predicted, Susie finally got the hang of it, and was able to play to
perfection her role as filling in the imaginary "sandwich", even to the
point of simulating an orgasm with one hole without interrupting the even
rhythm of the other.
Angie was fascinated. "Damn!" she enthused. "I wish I could fuck like that!"
The matron smiled. "We'd be delighted to set up a training session for you, darling."
Angie shivered. "Not with that pain, thanks. Although it would almost be worth it."
The matron grinned. "And it would be great fun watching, Angie. I think
you would respond to pain very prettily. But luckily -- luckily for you,
that is -- you wouldn't have to undergo the pain. We can disconnect the
shockers, and let you respond on the basis of the lights alone. You
probably wouldn't learn as fast that way, but the end result would be
just as good.
"But we're wasting time. Susie has reached the point in her training where
she doesn't have to think about what she's doing. All she has to do now
is develop those reflexes to the point where they are 100% reliable. And one
way to do that is to give her something else to think about.
"This workout we've given our little cunt has made me rather horny. I
think that you said she has a good tongue?"
o#
They put the Crushers on again, to provide any persuasion that might
be needed. And then they made her French them, and tongue out their
assholes. Both of them. And all the while, those two dildos kept fucking
her down below, and her two holes kept up the proper responses.
When they had finished, the matron looked at her watch. "Two hours
before the first client comes, dearie. Or rather, two hours before he
arrives. It'll be a bit longer before he comes -- how much longer depends
largely on you. And you will be given every incentive to get it over
with as soon as possible, even though you know he'll spend the balance of
his time playing painful little games.
"We usually allow 10 minutes before each customer, and between customers,
for a girl to refresh herself, and to get ready for the next one. But
since you're just beginning, we'll grant you half an hour this one time.
That'll allow you an hour and a half of free time.
"Just about right for a softening up session to get you into the spirit of things."
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 25 - the first customer -- map pins
And that "softening up" session was just what the name implied. Susie
knew that after an hour and a half of mortal (and intimate) pain she'd
be willing to do just about anything that her tormentors demanded. Not
only to escape a repetition, or continuation, of the ordeal, but the
pain itself had a brainwashing effect, destroying her morale to the point
where she could think of practically nothing but the agony.
And then the clean-up period -- the shower, the douche, the enema, the
perfuming and lubrication of her "working parts", as the matron had so
cutely called them. And the costume for her first "client".
To her surprise, they dressed her in a rather conservative blouse and
skirt -- just the kind that she was used to wearing to school. No
underwear, of course, and no stockings. Just a pair of slip-on sandals
on her feet. And she noticed that the blouse and skirt (no jacket) had
special Velcro fasteners, instead of seams, so they could be removed
easily, even if her body was tied up. And then her "client" arrived.
Susie was a bit taken aback when he walked into the room. The
Superintendent of schools! She would never have expected him to be a
customer of a place like this, with his public image of a family man, and all.
And he knew her, of course. He left no doubt of that fact.
"So, Susie, they tell me that you have been a naughty little girl. Shame
on you, seducing those innocent students of yours," he chided.
That was unfair. "But -- but they raped me," she protested.
He frowned. "Now don't lie about it, Susie dear, and make things worse.
I know the whole story, and I think that you'll agree that you should
be punished for it."
Susie understood. This was to be his little game. The "punishment" would
be his pretext for torturing her. She wondered what excuse he'd use for
the rape. She was damned sure that he would rape her before he was
finished, whether he could make a plausible excuse or not.
"Just what inducement did you use to seduce them?" he went on. "Was your
body attractive enough, or did you have to use some little bribe? Let's
find out, shall we? Suppose you remove that blouse and let me see how
good your bait is."
s#
Susie didn't demur. She was embarrassed at having to bare her breasts
before this man who was her boss, but she had suffered so much
embarrassment lately that she was feeling a bit numb in that department.
And she knew that the alternative was more unbearable pain.
The Superintendent whistled at her figure. "Yes," he said, "I can see
that any red-blooded young man would be hard put to it to resist a pair
of pretties like those. I'm afraid that they will have to be punished,"
he added in mock sadness.
He held out a bottle and a surgical sponge. "Let's disinfect them first,"
he ordered -- "Here -- let's see you swab the nipples off with alcohol.
All around. Make sure that you cover the areolas completely."
Susie obeyed, flinching a little at the cold of the liquid, but giving
a thorough sponging to the pink areas around her nipples. The cold made
her nipples come proudly erect, begging for attention.
"Now for the punishment." He poured some of the alcohol into a little
dish, and then spilled something else into the dish. Several small
objects that rattled ominously. Susie recognized them right away, and knew what
the "punishment" was going to be.
p#
"Just ordinary map pins," the man pointed out, "with the points ground
needle sharp. You'll be glad of the extra sharpness when you stick them
into those beautiful tits."
Susie's voice caught in her throat. "When -- when I stick them in?" she
stammered. Surely he couldn't be planning to make her torture herself.
"Why yes, my dear. I think that your penance would have much more meaning
if you did it yourself. Don't you? Oh, I'll take care of the pins in your
cunt. After all, I can't expect you to do a good job where you can't see
what you're doing. And I'll take care of the special last ones in your
tits. The longer ones that go straight into the center. But I think it
would be most fitting for you to stick in the ones that circle those lovely nipples."
He seemed to be running things by the clock. He would delay each time for
what seemed an eternity, to let Susie savor the humiliation and pain of
the pins that were already in place. And then he would indicate, with a
prick from a small needle, where the next pin would go.
As he had hinted, he made her stick them in a neat circle around her
nipples, just at the boundary where the white flesh met the pink. Her
nipples were extremely engorged now, from the irritation and the pain.
Finally the circles were complete. And then the pins in her genitals . .
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 26 - breast and genital torture; urine cocktail
No sooner was her "date" out of the room than the matron appeared. "No
time to waste, Susie dear," she cooed. "Normally, we'd have to rush like
mad for the next 10 minutes to get you ready for your next 'guest' -- pull
out the pins and clean you up and so on. But this next guy has a special
approach. He wants to take up where your last boyfriend left off, so he
gets 10 minutes extra with you as working time."
Thanks a bunch! Susie thought. Not only do I have to work 10 minutes
overtime, but this guy is going to start where the last one left off.
My God! Does that mean that his torture is going to be all the worse?
I ought to join the union, she thought wryly.
While she had been talking, the matron had been getting Susie ready for
the next customer -- strapping her arms to a sort of tilting framework
that fit from her shoulders to her waist, so that she was leaning over
backwards at an angle approaching 45 degrees. Her ankles were fastened
to rings in the floor, so that her legs were spread far apart.
And she was mother-naked, of course, with those pins still reminding her
painfully of their presence.
She recognized the next customer, too. The Chief of Police, uniform and
all. He wasted no time starting on his fantasy.
"So," he said, stroking the places where the pins still pierced her body,
sending new pain through her, "you wouldn't talk for the boys. Well, I'll
soon get a confession out of you."
It soon became obvious that this was just a pretense, as she had known
it would be. Every time she began to confess to some crime, real or
imagined, he would hiss, "The truth, slut!" and apply some new torment.
w#
He started out with a snappy little whip, much like the one that Chuck
had used on her breasts. But it was more painful now, when it hit those
damned pins on every other stroke or so. And then he reversed the whip,
pounding her tits with the handle. Damn! It felt like a rubber hose, the
way it bruised and abused the nubile mounds.
"Won't talk, eh?" he gloated. "Well, I guess it's time for the real
stuff." He picked up a pair of Crushers, then laid them aside. "Naw, too
wimpy for me," he said scornfully. "When I squeeze a whore's tits, I want
to get a personal feel into it."
s#
And personal he did get. He started out with his bare hands, squeezing
brutally, all the while forcing those pins deeper into her tortured flesh.
And then he brought out another device. "The lemon squeezer, we call it.
Only in your case it's more like an orange squeezer -- or maybe even
grapefruit." He stroked her breasts, making sure that she got his meaning,
that she fully savored the pain beforehand.
Each squeezer consisted of a pair of paddles, hinged together at the end.
All he had to do was trap her breast between the two paddles, and squeeze.
The shape of the paddles gave enough leverage so that he could apply
unbelievable pressure.
It soon became evident that he was one of those that didn't mind if his victim fainted.
When the smelling salts had revived her, he started in on her cunt. First
the cattle prod, although it didn't really appeal to him -- it didn't
allow him to release enough of his own energy.
g#
He then fastened a clip on each of her cunt lips -- a clamp that bit
horribly, and was painful enough in itself. But then he attached a
thong to each clip, and circled her thigh with it -- stretching the
orifice wide open, defenseless against his whip. He started whipping the
inside of her cunt . . .
She never knew whether he had raped her during one of her periods of
unconsciousness, and she didn't really care. The pain was so unbearable
that a little rape would have seemed like child's play.
u#
When he revived her for the last time, she found that he had jammed a
funnel between her teeth while she was unconscious, and had taped her
lips tightly around it. When he saw that she was awake again, he whipped
out his dong and pissed squarely into the funnel, making sure that none
of the golden liquid spilled out, so she had to swallow every last drop.
"I'll see you again, bitch." was his parting shot. "And you'll talk next
time, believe me. There are lots of delightful persuasion techniques that
I haven't got around to using yet."
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 27 - prolonged torture session "Well," the matron said gaily, while she cleaned Susie up after the Chief's visit, "that's the last customer for the night." Susie let herself draw a long breath of relief, even though the job of removing the pins was still causing her pain -- pain which the matron seemed to enjoy, and tried to prolong. "Now it's time to meet the club's Manager," she went on. "He always likes to interview the new employees. Good personnel relations you know," she added archly. So I'm finally going to meet the bastard responsible for all this, Susie thought vindictively. Well, I'll give him a piece of my mind, Manager or no. And then the matron twisted Susie's arm painfully behind her back, started strapping her onto the torture frame. Oh God! Susie thought. Was this what that shadowy "Manager" meant by "interview"? It sure was, she soon discovered. When Susie was entirely helpless, with her nakedness exposed for whatever satanic things the Manager might want to do, the matron spoke again. "The Manager is someone you know, Sweetie," she grinned. "In fact, in a small town like this, you'll probably find that you already know most of your lovers. But the Manager has a special interest in keep you guessing, so . . ." Susie felt more helpless than ever as the matron taped the blindfold over her eyes. She knew that her torturers had, so far, gotten a special pleasure out of letting her know in advance just what they were going to do to her -- and to what part of her; to let her savor ahead of time each new pain or indignity they were going to inflict. Like the poet who had said that the coward dies a thousand times. And it was a horribly effective psychology -- as these sadists well knew. But this was even worse. To lie there helpless, not knowing -- not knowing who was looking at her nakedness, who was preparing to invade her privacy, to torment the intimate parts of her body, to subject her to normal and perverted rape -- this was a hundred times worse. And then the matron fastened that telemetering cuff on her, and Susie knew that the Manager was one of those demons who wanted to make her agony last as long as possible, without the "inconvenience" of her losing consciousness. And one more indignity, perhaps worse than all the others. "The Manager knows that you're a little upset at being fucked by other men than your husband," the matron said sweetly. And that was the understatement of the year, Susie thought bitterly. "So," she went on, "he's going to let you pretend that he is your husband, while he makes love to you in his own special ways. So make sure you address him as 'darling', and whatever else you call your husband. And call him 'Jim'", she taunted. That was surely the ultimate indignity. To have to pretend that the man raping and torturing her, and subjecting her to the vile perversions that she knew would be her fate -- to have to pretend that he was her husband, whom she loved -- that was a new extreme in torment. And she knew that she would have to go along with the perverted suggestion, or else . . . Isolated as she was from reality, Susie had no concept of time. Each minute of agony seemed like years, but she had no way of knowing how many of those minutes there were. She didn't know how many men -- or women -- tortured and defiled her during that interminable period. Or they might even have set the machine on automatic for some of the time, and just watched -- or gone off to play cards, or to have sex with somebody else, or something. She did know that at least two men were involved, though, because more than once she was raped simultaneously by two torturers (or was one of them a dildo?), giving her the chance to demonstrate once more the proficiency she had developed at "sandwich" fucking.
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 28 - life in the town; unmasking the Rapist During the next few weeks, life became a sort of routine for Susie -- a routine that she was sure was a rehearsal for Hell. On the nights that Jim was going to be out of town (and somehow, Angie seemed to know what nights they would be, even before Susie did herself) Angie would come over to spend the night in the delights of Lesbian torture, sometimes having "the boys" over for a gang bang first. Their abuses were more varied now, since Angie had given them the word that Susie's asshole was in service, too. And the training that Susie had received in the use of her "working parts" made the rapes a lot more fun for the boys. And made them come over a lot more often. And then the next morning, if it was a school day, Angie would gleefully tape the Spiders on Angie's tits and clit, and ride off to school with her, making sure that the poor girl was not wearing any underwear at all, or that she was wearing bra and panties that were too tight, making the Spiders bite with an extra measure of pain. On Saturdays, there would be a routine visit from the "masked rapist", who would use the Crushers enthusiastically before raping Susie's cunt and asshole. And Saturday nights -- and sometimes on other nights as well -- she would be taken to the Club, where she would suffer for many hours the torments of the damned. Perhaps even worse than the degradation and agony of the sessions at the Club was the knowledge that practically all of the men in the community (and several of the women -- after all, this was the age of equal rights) knew who she was, and what she was doing (or rather what was being done to her) during those evenings (or all-night sessions) at the Club. Of course, Susie knew the identities of the men, too, and had learned a great deal about the sexual practices and perversions that they preferred. But she wasn't about to blow the whistle on them, and they knew it. Blow them, sure, but never blow the whistle on them. She couldn't do that without making her own shame officially public. And who would take her complaint seriously, anyway? Certainly not the Superintendent of Schools, or the Chief of police. Or the Mayor, who was another one of her more imaginative and innovative customers. On the other hand, she was sure that her customers were whispering behind her back. Strangely, though, their behavior to her face was most polite -- almost courtly. "One of the traditions of the Club", the matron had told her. "We cater only to gentlemen here. (Except on Ladies' Night, of course.)" Some gentlemen! Susie thought bitterly. Beasts, bastards, who would rape and torture a helpless girl while she screamed for mercy. The bridge club girls were not gentlemen, of course; they were diligently proving the validity of Kipling's comments to the effect that the female of the species was more deadly than the male. Ever since that cruel moment when they revealed to Susie that they knew about her servitude, they had played no bridge, but had reveled instead in imaginative orgies of which Susie was the victim. They had so much fun, in fact, that they were completely oblivious to fact that Angie was gleefully videotaping their playtimes, often re-running the show in a private viewing for Susie, to recall for her "benefit" the pain and embarrassment of the ordeal. And the school Principal was becoming ever bolder in his advances. The last straw came one Friday afternoon, on one of the days when Angie had forbidden Susie to wear underwear, and the Principal's hands were bold enough to discover that fact. Trapping her in the corner of his office, he rubbed his cupped hand over the poor girl's breast, making that damned Spider hurt until it was all that Susie could do to keep from screaming. And then he leered at her, "I bet that makes the Spider really bite. "Let's try the other one . . ." Susie gasped. "You -- you know!" she accused. Again that irritating chuckle. "Oh yes, darling," he crooned. "That sweet little Angela has been keeping me posted on the details of the debauchery that you have been luring our innocent youth into. She even gave me this picture. Look . . ." The picture, in living color, was even more revolting than Susie's memory of the act. There she was, bound to her bed, blindfolded, with Spiders and Crushers in place, helplessly awaiting the weekly visit from her ravisher. "I think that the School Board will have something to say about your job when they get a look at this picture. It probably won't do your marriage any good, either," he added as if in afterthought. Susie gave another gasp of dismay. "Please don't tell my husband," she implored. "Look," she tried to make her voice sultry, tempting. "I know what you want. You men are all the same. I'll put out for you, if you'll just keep quiet about it." What the hell? By this time, one more rapist wouldn't make any difference. The Principal smiled triumphantly. It had been an even easier victory than he had hoped. "Just what I wanted you to say, Darling," he taunted. "In fact, I've been counting on it so strongly that I had already arranged with Angie for you to spend the night at my house. "And she was good enough to bring the suitcase of special equipment that you keep stashed away for her . . ." Once he had her in his bedroom, he wasted no time in stripping Susie naked, putting the Spiders and Crushers on her, and shackling her to the bed. Just like the picture, except that he left off the blindfold. As she tensed for his invasion, Susie felt him tightening the Crushers until she almost fainted. There was something horribly familiar about the way he drove into her, but maybe it was just the similarity in circumstances. But when he pulled out, and moved over to her asshole . . . "It's been you all the time!" Susie screamed. "That's right, Honey," he sneered. "All the time you've been saying 'no' during the week, you've been putting out for me on Saturday. But those days are gone forever, as the old song used to go. Tomorrow, instead of accommodating your 'masked rapist', we'll go over to the Club, where we can have some real fun. And as for tonight . . ." Susie groaned as he started unpacking the suitcase of "equipment" that Angie had given him.
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 29 - the worm turns But it's a long worm that has no turning, to mix a couple of metaphors, and things finally reached the point where Susie could stand it no longer. Angie had stripped naked (she always felt more wicked that way, she said), and she had made Susie strip naked, and she was ostentatiously selecting the "proper whip for the occasion", when Susie just boiled over. Grabbing the whip from Angie's hand, she brought it down with all her strength across the surprised girl's butt. "See how you like it, you little bitch!" she screamed. To her amazement, Angie did like it! Bending over and grabbing her ankles, she begged for more! "Please spank me -- I'm a naughty girl", she begged. Here was an offer Susie couldn't refuse, as the saying goes. All of her pent-up resentment came to a focus, and concentrated in her arm, as she rained blow after blow on the lovely pair of ivory globes that were presented willingly, eagerly, for the ordeal. And Angie begged, through her tears of pain, for more...and more...and more. Finally, Susie's strength gave out, and she let the whip drop to the floor. Angie was on her in a second, showering her with kisses; on her lips, on her breasts, working lower and lower... And this time, she kept it up until Susie had the first real orgasm that anyone had ever given her. And still Angie's frenzied gratitude was not spent. But this time it was expressed vocally. "Thank you, thank you!" she gushed. "I've wanted someone to do that for a long time." Her words continued in an almost frantic outpouring. "My parents never punished me in any way for anything. They always used to say that they were following the new trend of permissivity, but it seemed to me that they were just too lazy to bother themselves with correcting me. I tried and tried to get their attention by misbehaving, but all I got from Mother was a sigh of resignation, and Dad never said anything -- he just grunted. That spanking gave me a sense of security -- I feel as if I've found someone who really cares. Promise me that you'll look after me, please, PLEASE!" This was a new twist, thought Susie. At least I can count on less torture from Angie now. And maybe a little discipline will actually get the little bitch to behave better in class -- and possibly even turn her life around. But what Angie needed now more than anything else was affection. Susie knew it was her turn. After all, she had Frenched Angie many times before... But this time, it was a gesture of the affection that Angie craved -- a free offering, a sort of "handshake" to seal their wordless bargain. By the time Susie had finished, Angie's tears had vanished. But she was still contrite. She knew that she could not erase the damage that she had done -- that the manager of the Club still held the power to prolong Susie's slavery -- but at least Susie could know that she had a "pal" who would sympathize with her, and would offer her sexual solace whenever it was wanted. A mutual sexual solace, of course... And then the worm turned a little more, to mix the metaphor a bit further. The manager had Susie in the customary position: naked and blindfolded, bound and helpless, with the telemetering cuff securely in place, and had started the usual torment of her breasts, when the pain suddenly stopped. It seemed like ages before somebody came to investigate; to find the manager lying on the floor, writhing in the last throes of a heart attack. Angie (for it was she who first came upon the scene), feeling that Susie's condition deserved higher priority than the manager's, loosed Susie's bonds, and gently removed those painful pins, bathing the injured areas with a soothing balm. Then, and only then, she turned her attention to the man who now lay face down and motionless on the floor. Finding no pulse, she rolled the body over, affording Susie a full view of his face. Susie gasped, and almost fainted with shock. This beast, the man who had been torturing her for weeks -- who had always known exactly when (and for how long) her husband would be away from home -- was that selfsame husband! The bastard, while he was pretending to be a dutiful and loving husband, was actually selling her body to all comers, making a fortune from the pain and humiliation that her brutal customers had inflicted on her. Well, she thought grimly, he won't get another cent from me, now.
TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 30 - wrap-up Susie's sexual slavery was immediately terminated, of course, by the discovery that Jim had been the architect of that slavery. His death was just icing on the cake. The only reason that she had submitted to the pain and indignities that had been her lot was the fact that exposure of her "misdeeds" would have ruined (she thought) her marriage and Jim's career future. Even if he had lived, she would have been free of that awful hold. In fact, she mused, it would have been sort of fun if he HAD lived -- and she could have flaunted her freedom in his face. Be that as it may, he was well beyond her reach now -- and he just might be suffering some of the Hell's tortures that he had inflicted on her. It was Angie who pointed out that Jim's death would affect her life in another way. As his widow, she would inherit his possessions -- including the Club itself. Well, she thought grimly, let's inventory my estate. Fortunately, she had no more "customers" scheduled for the evening. Jim never had let his "recreation" get in the way of her money-making duties. Luckily also, she discovered, he kept his files in locked cabinets, and carried the keys on his person. There were no tricky combination safes to cope with. One of her first discoveries was a not-unexpected cabinet full of pictures. Pictures, filed and indexed carefully, showing Susie's customers at "work". Pictures of the Mayor, of the Chief of police, of many of the "respectable" and influential men and women of the town, engaging in sexual perversions. Pictures that would ruin their lives, once the public found out. And find out they would, Susie vowed, once she decided on the best way to manage the disclosure. Maybe the Internet would do for starters . . . But Angie had another idea. An idea that Susie would have found revolting a year ago, but an idea that appealed to the ironic sense of humor that she had developed during her months of slavery. The next day, the Club was closed to "business", but Susie summoned several of her most prominent male customers to listen to a short speech. And to view copies of some of the pictures. "Of course," she concluded, "the best pictures have been moved to a safe place -- a place where they can not fall into the wrong hands -- such as yours. You have my word that you will be protected as long as you eagerly carry out my wishes in every detail. But the minute any one of you rebels, or grumbles, or demurs, his pictures will be published. And the pictures of two or three of the rest of you may go along with them, so you will find it wise to police one another's activities. "And here's what you are going to do for me. . ." There was to be protection, of course, of Susie and her activities. If she should die, even of the most obviously natural causes, all pictures would be released. There would be no economic or legal harassment. And -- the meat of the plan -- "you gentlemen will now become MY slaves -- mine and Angie's -- and will attend to our sexual needs. This may, of course entail a bit of pain now and then". And the few other girls who had been Susie's partners in slavery would also enjoy "privileges" at the Club, if they desired. "However, it won't be all bad," she smiled. "During the times that you are not serving me, you will still be able to use the full facilities of the Club, although we're going to have a bit of turnover in the work force. >From now on, the working girls will consist of the women that have been our customers. I'm sure that you can find ways to induce them to co-operate, even if the pictures of them that I have are not persuasive enough by themselves. "I'm afraid that some of you will have a little discomfort here and there," she smiled cruelly, "as the axe may fall on some woman that you hold in rather high regard. Your wives or sisters, perhaps. Or even your teen-age daughters. But I'll let you work that out among yourselves. Just remember that you are all in jeopardy. If one of you does not co-operate, several may suffer. And you may get some consolation out of the fact that every one of them will have been guilty of torturing the poor slave girls that have been working here up to now. "Oh, and one more thing. The very first women you are going to add to my stable are the members of the bridge club to which I used to belong. Here is a list of their names. And, as a first persuader, here are some pictures that a friend of mine -- who shall be nameless (Angie grinned silently) -- has taken of them abusing me when their husbands thought that they were playing bridge. "So, gentlemen, I thank you, and good night. You will please excuse me now; Angie and I have some other business to attend to -- some infinitely more pleasant business. . ." The END
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