Message-ID: <8130eli$9802041406@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: jaypee Subject: 16-20 TORTURED TEACHER Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <34D8AF6C.3BAA@KIVA.NET> TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 16 by Joy Paine Index words: breast whipping b# crushing breasts c# NOTE: with one exception, the characters in this story have no resemblance to any person living or dead. The exception is that I like to picture myself in the story, from time to time. "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 by Joy Paine Index words: rape r# lesbian l# NOTE: with one exception, the characters in this story have no resemblance to any person living or dead. The exception is that I like to picture myself in the story, from time to time. 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 by Joy Paine Index words: enema e# rape r# sodomy s# NOTE: with one exception, the characters in this story have no resemblance to any person living or dead. The exception is that I like to picture myself in the story, from time to time. 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 by Joy Paine Index words: humiliation h# strip s# NOTE: with one exception, the characters in this story have no resemblance to any person living or dead. The exception is that I like to picture myself in the story, from time to time. 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 by Joy Paine Index words: the Club c# interrogation room i# NOTE: with one exception, the characters in this story have no resemblance to any person living or dead. The exception is that I like to picture myself in the story, from time to time. 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." -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |