Unexpected Moments

Bridget, her hands free, tried to run them over her tortured body. She could see the grins of her classmates, as her hands frantically sought a part of her to sooth - a part where her own touch didn’t bring even greater agony.

Miss Stapleton was confident, she’d been her schools darts champion. Ignoring the impaled girl’s frantic movements, she took a moment to force herself to relax, an audience of her pupils was nearly as stressful as a competition. Next moment she raised her head and let fly with both darts in quick succession.

Bridget had been staring wildly, her mutilated body tormenting her almost beyond reason. When her teacher had looked up and let fly, it took her a second to register what she was seeing. So it was that her teachers lovely young face, surrounded by a halo of awed teenagers, was to be the last sight she ever had. With pinpoint precision the darts stabbed through her eyeballs, blocking her vision.

It was an impressive sight. Bridget froze on her anal hook, as though turned to stone, only her shattered legs swinging a little. Then, like a jolt of electricity had been fired through her, she was all movement. Her cry of pain audible even through the silencing gag, Her hands scrabbled frenziedly at her face, ripping the darts from her eyeballs, oblivious to the damage she was inflicting on herself.

The teacher calmly explained to her pupils what they were seeing their classmate go through.

“There’s nothing to quite match the total agony of having your optical nerves pierced. You can see how our model has ripped her own eyes apart as she tries to ease the pain.”

“Would that help miss?”

“Not in the slightest.” answered the teacher cheerfully. “If anything, it makes things worse. That’s why it’s a good idea to free the snuff-bunny’s hands first.”

After that Bridget felt herself being lowered down, a new pain as her shattered legs squashed against the floor. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she’d been lain face down over the demonstration table again.

“Okay Tracy.” Miss Stapleton relented, looking round to class to find a volunteer to take Bridget’s anal hook out. “Let’s see if you can at least successfully slip this rod out of our model’s rectum.”

As Tracy eagerly braced one hand against Bridget’s arse, and took a firm grip on the curved metal that protruded from it with the other, the teacher anxiously gave her some advice.

“Now take it slow, if you pull her guts out you might actually reduce her torment. Remember how large the ball on the end is.”

Miss Stapleton placed a restraining hand on Tracy’s. “Draw it out and up, so it rakes across her insides.”

Under the teacher’s careful guidance, Tracy made a near-perfect withdrawal of the anal hook. Bridget thrashed a little as vital organs were squashed, and her tightened sphincter ripped open again, but already the constant torment was tiring her.

“Let’s have Beth back up again.” announced Miss Stapleton, as she calmly pushed her tortured pupil onto the floor. “Let’s see if our snuff-bunny’s friend is ready to carry through on what she told us.”

Bridget barely moved as rough hands unbuckled her gag. Then came Miss Stapleton’s voice, impersonal as she taught the class, giving her next instruction.

“Open your mouth model.”

You only get one chance at being snuffed, and Bridget, despite everything, was determined to get it right. She opened her mouth before she felt the warmth of her friend’s crotch approach her face, seeing, now only in her mind, those familiar large pussy lips, and tight, clean little bumhole.

It wasn’t clean for long. She caught the stench just before she felt the soft warm sticky end of a turd on her tongue. Gagging madly, an even worse odour hit her. It was a second before she realised it came from whatever vile brew was being dragged up from her stomach. She actually gained relief by chewing and swallowing the warm shit in her mouth, to a small gasp of surprise from Beth.

There was no explanation as she felt a second body descending towards her face. This one didn’t stop until it was pressed tightly over her mouth, smothering her. There was a gasp from the class as this body let rip an enormous fart, with nowhere else to go forcing itself into Bridget’s lungs.

“Smothering is an ideal extra bit of cruelty when you’re crapping in someone’s mouth.” It was Miss Stapleton’s voice. “Before I took up teaching, I actually snuffed my sister like this for our father’s birthday. I can highly recommend it, feeling someone struggle to their end against your heaving anus, spluttering your warm shit back at you.”

If only she hadn’t been blinded! She’d actually have got to see Miss Stapleton’s pussy. No one in the class had ever got to see it, even though she wore quite short skirts with no tell-tale line suggesting the wearing of knickers. She had to content herself with pushing out her tongue, to trace the bumps and hairs of the spasming anus pressed against her mouth, surprised by the pleased little wriggle her teacher gave before standing up.

Bridget didn’t have time to enjoy her unfettered freedom as her shattered body lay on the platform. Before she could even swallow the remains of the teacher’s shit, the gag had been forced back into her mouth, its bulk removing any hope of clearing her mouth of the foetid mass - and the rest of her didn’t remain unconstrained for long.

Miss Stapleton was certainly an expert in ropework. The whole class gathered round to see her lash Bridget into another undignified position. Two large hooks had been skewered through the fat around her hips. The remains of her legs had been wrapped in a web of thin cord and pulled in tight to the hooks, the pain nearly causing Bridget to pass out. Another rope had been plaited through and through her mousey hair.

Leaving Bridget where she lay trussed up, their teacher asked one of the boys to bring a large bucket from the storeroom and place it in the centre of the platform.

“I know we’ve covered watersports before, but, as we need to fill this bucket, this will be an excellent opportunity for a mass comparison. When it’s not your turn you might want to take notes, I will be expecting an essay on peeing differences even within the same gender.”

Bridget’s mind seized in fear - not just drowned, but in a bucket full of her classmates’ piss! She’d never tried watersports, well not more then you got from sucking an unwashed cock, but, if the smell in the school loos at breaktime was anything to go by, it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

Again and again she heard a splashing stream, some long, some short, as her classmates shuffled up to take their turn. By the end she could clearly hear the deeper note of a full bucket as the last drops of liquid sploshed into it. The brief silence was followed by a couple of noises that she couldn’t quite identify.

Then there was a gentle glugging, followed by a sigh and Miss Stapleton’s voice. “Very refreshing. If we didn’t need so much, I’d get you all to try a cupful.”

Even the pain-wracked and blinded Bridget was seeing a new side to their teacher. All through the past two years Miss Stapleton had been clean and decorous at all times, not like most other teachers who openly fondled themselves while demonstrating some painful technique on a screaming girl. Now the proper young blonde had taken a shit and drunk piss in front of them, even if her defecation had been screened by her skirts. All of the boys, and most of the girls, were hoping the desks hid their hands activities.

A little more work, and Bridget hung, only a couple of feet above the platform, her entire weight supported on three ropes. The torment in her hips was bad enough, but the weight of her upper body, threatening to rip hair and skin clean off, was even worse. The only reason she noticed, as something that felt like a baseball bat was forced into her protesting young pussy, was through the extra attention the movement caused to her already badly stressed scalp

“I’ve never seen one that big.” someone, she couldn’t tell who, commented.

“Yes, it’s the largest one we have in school.”

That was definitely Miss Stapleton’s voice, sounding so calm and relaxed. It was hard to believe her tongue had, only a few minutes ago, been tracing the woman’s shitty arsehole.

“You can get larger speculums.” Miss Stapleton was continuing. “But for a pussy-stretching there’s really no point. This one’s titanium steel, so it should be harder than bone, even at full stretch.”

“What would be the point of a larger one then?”

That was Beth, sounding as fascinated as Bridget knew she would have been had the roles been reversed, and she had been the one seeing her friend’s cunt enveloping such a brutal intruder.

Their teacher sounded quite pleased as she answered Beth’s question.

“I’ve only seen larger used before in stage shows. Holding open a gash in a woman’s belly, either for a gutting or a snuff caesarean.”

“Does the baby survive in a snuff caesarean?” a new voice, Joanne, a girl who, fairly solid classroom rumour said, had got herself knocked-up recently.

“I’ve never looked into that Joanne, but then that really isn’t the aim. When I saw it performed the woman hammered several foot-long nails into her own swollen belly at the start of the show, so definitely not that time. If you want to earn some extra credit you could do some research and write me an essay.”

There was loud scraping as something heavy was dragged across the platform. Next moment Bridget knew for sure what it was, the choking stench of piss overwhelmed her. How had Miss Stapleton sounded so cheerful as she drank this stuff? Then she shied a little as a pair of hands touched her face. The next moment she was gasping in big lungfuls of air. Her mouth once again freed, she could at last swallow the remains of her teacher’s turd.

Liberated from the choking gag, Bridget this time found what little voice she had left to whisper, “Not drowning Miss, anything but that, please. I’ll lower myself into a bath of acid or gut myself if you’d like, but please not drowning.”

When Miss Stapleton leaned in to answer, her whisper was even quieter than Bridget’s.

“You were paying attention when we covered snuffing, weren’t you Bridget?” Her teacher had used her name! She wasn’t sounding angry, just disappointed, which actually made Bridget feel worse. “You must have realised we’re doing an extreme snuff here, and the aim is to break the slut - that’s you dear - into a worthless wreck before finally putting her down.”

Bridget didn’t say any more after this, just tried to brace herself for her horrific end. Of course she should have known! Beth would have worked it out when she revealed her friend’s greatest fears.

“This is what you’re aiming for.” Miss Stapleton’s voice, addressing the class, cut through her thoughts. “The model has just offered to gut herself rather than drown. I’ve no doubt she would willingly agree to participate in any other agonising end I could think of as well.”

There was a bit of excited giggling at this, the tension in the classroom palpable. Miss Stapleton shushed her students and invited Angela to release the other end of the rope attached to Bridget’s hair and hold on tight. The teacher herself returned to Bridget’s crotch and began slowly winding the giant speculum open.

“This will be an excellent chance to observe the breaking point again.”

As Miss Stapleton spoke, Bridget gagged on the acrid smell from the bucket, the fuming liquid almost touching her face.

“As we spread our model’s cunt wide keep an eye on the skin, particularly near the arsehole. Just like with her boobs, you should see dramatic colour changes just before it tears. Lower away very slowly Angela.”

Bridget couldn’t help struggling, as the rope round her hair gradually slackened, and she descended into the stinking liquid. Her scream, as the teacher now rapidly started spreading her pussy far wider than was bearable, was sharply cut off in a pissy gurgle. Next second her cunt and lungs were screaming centres of fire.

Pointlessly thrashing her head around, she never heard Miss Stapleton say, “That crack was her pelvis going. If you look round her arsehole, you’ll see where her cunt’s about to tear.”

“I know mine’s been spread a bit, but is it normal for pussies to stretch that far?” asked Sonia.

After being used as a fisting demonstration so often, most boys now complained they could barely touch the sides when shagging her.

“Only if you’re not worried about long-term damage, the walls will be distended beyond the point of recovery.” Miss Stapleton answered, then showed she had a clear idea of the state of Sonia’s cunt. “As I’m sure you know, even sufficient repeated minor stretching will leave a pussy permanently slack. Of course, that won’t really be a problem for our model. Now watch closely for a few seconds.”

It was perfect timing. Despite being near the end, Bridget bucked and thrashed in agony as her over-strained crotch ripped apart. A few seconds later she was still.

Her suffering wasn’t over. Still slightly conscious, she was dragged from the bucket. Before she could even try and choke, a rock hard penis was shoved down her throat, trapping the piss that had replaced the air in her lungs.

“A special reward for you Nigel.” Miss Stapleton, again. “Can you describe to the class what it feels like to have a girl finally snuff around your cock?”

Bridget went out with Nigel describing to her spellbound classmates the feeling as her death spasms sucked him dry.

After that everyone got to see what Bridget had only felt with her tongue. Miss Stapleton had a reward she gave to a class, if they’d worked hard like this one. Lifting her skirt and bending over her desk, revealing a neat little snatch with a patch of blonde fur, she let a succession of eager teenage dicks pound her cunt or arse, while she used her tongue to finish off a matching queue of damp young pussies.

The class filed out, chattering excitedly, everyone agreeing that had been the best practical ever. Angela, she of the saggy tits, and always precocious, had already agreed to let Nigel snuff her at the prom.

Miss Stapleton sank contentedly back into her chair. The snuff lesson was always a worry, however many times she did it. Still, today’s had gone particularly well, Bridget had been an excellent snuff-bunny. Remembering the feeling as her hands broke that young flesh, she raised her skirt and slipped her fingers deep into her slimy crotch, staring up at the two severed young breasts that still hung, like erotic decorations, from the ceiling.

This story is a fantasy, set in another place, with only the slightest passing nod to our reality as it’s glimpsed on a distant horizon. If this isn’t immediately apparent to you, I strongly suggest you seek urgent psychiatric care.