Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Torx73 / MLyons
Title: Cindy - The Professor's Bane
Part: Chapter 5 of 5
Summary: Cindy finally finishes with the Professor, discovering
something about herself in the process.  Both are left disturbingly
transformed.  Themes of reverse objectification and humiliation abound.
Keywords: MF, M~doll, Mdom, Fdom, blackmail, revenge, humil, va, coll,
nc, bd, sm, sp



   (C) 2004 by MLyons / Torx73

   Author's Note: The following story and the characters within it are
purely products of my imagination, and they are meant to be enjoyed only as
a fantasy.  Any similarity to real people or events is unintentional.

   Reproduction of this story is permitted, as long as no charge is made
for its access, and it remains unaltered with all disclaimers and
authorship information intact.

   Synopsis of Chapter 4: Cindy's ruthless humiliation of the Professor
came to a head when she woke him up, still strapped to his fuck doll, and
made him lick her off while she had phone sex with his boss.  Cindy
introduced toys into the Professor's ass, and they became progressively
bigger throughout the day.  Finally Cindy handcuffed him and brutally ass
fucked him with a rubber strap on dildo.  Johnson transformed into a
quivering man-cunt, begging without shame for her to fuck him.  She stopped
and left him desperately unsatisfied before rubbing her cunt off on his
face.  Her anger with him for what he had done to Sarah Jennings was
revealed, along with an inexplicable conflict inside of her.  She locked
herself in his bedroom while he was left there--handcuffed, "hard-oned",
and confused on the floor of his entertainment room.

   Chapter 5

   Johnson's naked body writhed against the berber carpet of his
entertainment room.  His raw wrists chafed against the steel cuffs behind
his back.  Cindy had just ruthlessly butt-fucked him without ceremony, and
then disregarded his needs by stuffing his face into her soaked pussy and
using it as a living clit-stimulator.  She had left him there, used and
aching for orgasm with no practical way to get himself off.  The carpet
scratched against his blindly searching cock; his ass felt a painful
emptiness.

   He raised his pain-racked body onto his knees and tried to rub his cock
on the seat of the plush chair.  His matted hair slapped against his
forehead while he labored unsuccessfully to find a workable position.  He
fell back against his legs and surveyed the room, desperate to find
something--anything--that he might be able to use.  Through sweat-blurred
eyes, he spotted Cindy's crumpled pair of panties on the floor.

   His reddened knees scraped against the carpet in an effort to reach
them. He dropped his torso and crunched his cheek to the floor.  The lube
bottle chained around his neck smacked against his face and the carpet
fibers flexed in reaction to his wheezing breaths.

   "Bitch!" his ragged voice cracked.  He clenched his teeth around the
salty material of her panties in an attempt to unwind them.

   All vestiges of rational thought escaped him as he rubbed her soiled
underpants against the floor and shook them violently with his neck like a
dog would play with his favorite toy.  His throat growled in insane
frustration.  They defied him, remaining a twisted ball of stretchy
material, as if bowing to their bratty owner's very will.  He spat them to
the floor and clumsily slumped his sweaty body on top of them, trying to
position his dick to make use of the silky material.  They uncooperatively
rolled and bunched against the carpet when he thrust his pelvis against
them.

   "Aauuhh!" He bellowed into the lint-trapped floor like a starving
animal. His unmitigated desire stifled any meaningful words.  He rolled
over onto his back, painfully trapping his hands behind him before forcing
his torso to sit up.  His head shifted frantically on his shoulders, trying
to think anything he could use to satiate this maddening desire.  Suddenly,
he had the answer!

   Its lifeless, silicone frame lay acquiescently in his living room,
waiting for him to go in and stuff his raging dick into its pliant holes.

   In a sobering moment of horrible realization, his stringy hair dropped
in a wet mop over his forehead as he slumped his head in utter revulsion.
That he'd even considered touching that fucking doll after what she had put
him through with it yanked his animal mind from the clutches of insanity.

   The angry cock-hole between his legs peered stiffly up at him.  His neck
was a tightrope, straining and shaking.  He contorted his face into a
scream, in defiance of his aching need.

   "FUCK!"

   The orgiastic moans from the television focused his attention on the
sex-saturated environment around him.  The images of ripe, female flesh
being plugged in various orifices by faceless monster-dicks further taunted
his over-stimulated psyche.  He looked around at the collection of
fuck-toys that littered the carpet and felt like nothing more than a
mindless, used receptacle for them.  Cindy's veiney strap-on lay in a heap
next to his legs--the portion that had been stuffed into his ass still
streaked with thick lube, and her portion still shiny with her juices.  His
stomach tightened with fear and boundless lust at the very thought of her.
He would never have imagined that the little girl in his office would be
capable of such ruthless sexual enslavement.

   He still felt her wet cunt leavings dripping down his face, and his cock
once again reacted to the singular animal scent that now marked him as her
man-bitch.  His ass contracted in terrible pain.  His senses were overrun
with relentless reminders of what he had become.  The thought of what she
might do to him next terrified him.  The thought that she might leave him
in this condition and never come back scared him even more.

   With deep, measured breaths, his chaotic mind defiantly willed his
uncontrolled arousal into check.  He would not give her the satisfaction.
He tried to focus on what Cindy had said to him just before sequestering
herself in his bedroom.

   Sarah!  Somehow this all had to do with Sarah.

   He stood up, and with his back to the television, awkwardly turned the
fucking thing off.  He switched off the lights and eased his ravaged ass
into the chair, laying his head against the back.  With Cindy in his bed
and that devil-doll on the couch, he had nowhere else to go.  He closed his
eyes, feeling a deep sense of emasculation and shame.  His mind's eye
jumped back to the girl he'd watched getting fucked on the television as
Cindy was splitting his ass open with that brutal rubber toy.  Her sad eyes
had spoken to him somehow, strangely comforting him during the horrible
conflict of his ordeal.

   They reminded him of the last night he'd spent with Sarah--the look on
her face.  The mixture of trust and betrayal in her eyes at the moment he
took the last of her innocence seemed to sear into his consciousness.  His
burning sphincter pulsated each time his butt shifted in the chair.  A
troubled, waking dream took hold of his psyche and he vividly relived the
events of that night.

   - - - -

   "Spread your legs a little more, Sarah."

   He could see Sarah Jennings' frightened eyes in the bathroom mirror, a
look of focused concentration on her face.  Her soft lips were parted, and
her breath jumped in and out of her mouth.  Her arms were tight with
tension, squeezing her bare breasts together and supporting her as she
leaned over the bathroom counter.  She shifted her legs unsteadily, further
taxing the thin panties that stretched across her thighs.  Her bottom
jutted out behind her, and her legs terminated in a pair of modest, black
heels.  Aside from the panties they were the only pieces of clothing that
remained on her after their dinner together that night.  The rest were
strewn along the bathroom floor.  Johnson focused his attention on the work
his finger was doing.

   Sticky with the thick lube he'd applied, the rubber band-like entrance
of her sphincter had just given way and slipped tightly around his
fingertip.

   "Wait," she said through her hitched breathing.  "Wait!" She reached
back and grabbed his hand to pull his finger out.

   "Sarah, what did I say?" He grabbed her wrist and guided it back to the
counter in front of her.

   "Stephen, I'm scared.  I'm scared." She swung her head around and looked
at him, her brunette curls playing over her shoulder.

   "Shhh.  What did I say, Sarah?"

   "Stay still," she said.  "You said I should stay still and you'll go
slow."

   "That's right, now be a good girl, spread your legs again and lean
over."

   Her wide eyes shifted, struggling against her fears.  She timidly leaned
back over and waited for his finger to penetrate her again.

   Not touching any other part of the trembling girl, he simply re-applied
his fingertip to the tight entrance of her ass--once again carefully
pushing it in and watching her intense face in the mirror.  He knew it
would hurt her a bit, but he also knew that there was much more at stake
than that.  He didn't just want to stretch her ass open, he wanted to take
all of her remaining innocence away.  That's what he longed to see in her
face.  He knew it was wrong.  He could see the monster he'd become, but it
was like a drug to him--more addictive than any narcotic.

   He felt the tight muscles of her sphincter squeeze desperately around
him, cutting off the blood supply to his fingertip.  He could see the sheen
of sweat appearing on her forehead while she dutifully remained in her
submissive position.  A moan escaped her lips.

   "Relax, Sarah," he said soothingly.  "Relax your body."

   He felt her breathe, and her anus released some of its pressure as the
first knuckle of his finger slipped past the snug ring of her opening.

   "Ahhh, No.  Oh my God." She whined into the mirror.

   "Such a good girl." He wanted her to be his slut, and he could see the
mixture of excitement and panic painted across her delicate face.

   He pushed deeper, ever so slowly, watching her reflection.  He could
feel her alternately tightening and releasing her anus in her attempts to
accommodate his insistent entry.  It was delicious.

   "Oh, Stephen.  Stephen--wait." Her voice moaned through her breaths, but
she remained obediently focused and did not move.

   Finally, his finger was buried into her all the way to the base, the
rest of his hand balled in a fist to avoid any unnecessary contact with
her. He wanted her to feel penetrated--violated--with no feelings of
tenderness.  His eyes fixed on hers.

   "It's all the way in, slut." He wiggled the tip of his finger inside of
her.

   She grunted; her eyes glazed over.  Once again he saw that delicious
mixture of utter shame and delicious arousal in her contorted face.  She
was so compliant; it was electrifying playing with her.  Just out of
curiosity, he allowed his ring finger to unfold and touch the opening of
her shaved twat--it was warm and wet.  She was already a slave to her
sexual demons.

   Her back arched before him, her elbows started to bend weakly in
response to his finger's brush with her pussy lips.

   "Ohhh...  fuck," she moaned with a mixture of pain, concentration and
unbridled lust.  He could feel the tension in her legs.  He watched her
shifting them slightly, in conflict with the need to stay perfectly still
and avoid any sudden movements of his finger.

   "Don't fucking move, Sarah." He eased his finger out slightly so that
she clamped down on his big knuckle, and then he pushed it back in.

   Even ten years later, he could still see the pain and torment on her
face.

   The older Johnson shifted in his chair.  He wished the throbbing in his
ass would go away.  It still felt so open and exposed.  He wanted
desperately to close it--to reclaim what Cindy had fucked out of him, but
each time he clenched his sphincter muscle, he was punished with increased
pain.  He grimaced as he recalled her hyper-charged voice in the recesses
of his troubled mind: "Don't fucking move, doggy!"

   His thoughts once again returned to the past.

   "Where's that finger, Sarah?" He pulled his digit out again slowly, this
time a little further, and then filled her up to the base again.  His cock
was aching in his pants.

   "Ohhh, Stephen just stop.  Please, stop." Her pleas of shame bubbled
above the physical distress.  He knew that she didn't want to submit to
this, but her drenched pussy would soon give her no choice.

   "Where is it, slut?" He fucked his finger slowly in and out of her ass
hole.

   "No.  Come on; just fuck my pussy.  You can tie me up." She tried to use
her wiles to sway him.  On another day it might have worked, but not today.
Her arms buckled again in response to his invasion, her torso leaning over
and resting on the cold marble counter.

   "No, Sarah." He grabbed her long hair with his other hand and pulled her
up again, arching her back and pressing her body against the finger that
was fucking her ass.  "No pussy fucking for you today, slut." He loved
treating her this way.  He could feel her ass muscles relaxing around his
finger, and it was easier to pump in and out of her.  She was a quick
learner--but then she always had been.

   "Stephen, I just want to fuck tonight.  I don't want to play this game
anymore."

   Later, he would do the right thing.  He would break up with her; he
would free her from his sad life of excess.  He knew what he was doing
wasn't fair.  He knew he didn't deserve this sweet slut, but he was too far
gone now.  He had to have her ass, and what made Sarah so deliciously
addictive to him was that she was going to hate loving it.

   "Stay there, Sarah!" he scolded her like a child and pulled back her
hair even harder--riding her ass with his finger--now forcing it inside her
sweaty body.

   "Stephen, please.  Why do I have to do this?"

   He knew what to do.  He let go of her hair and leaned over so that his
mouth was against her ear.  His finger kept probing in and out of her ass.
"Sarah, sweety.  Don't you want to be a proper slut?"

   "Fuck you, Stephen," she said defiantly.

   He loved it when he coaxed out her anger, her defiance of her own
submissive instincts.  It would make violating her ass that much sweeter.
She was so complex--so fascinating.  He would miss her terribly.

   He knew how to exploit her real weakness.  He didn't understand her
attachment to him--why she loved him, but she did.  Seeing her now, he
almost wished that he could love her back.

   "Sarah.  Will you do it?  Will you do it for me?"

   He saw her eyes looking at his reflection in the mirror.  She studied
him silently--her face a beautiful merry-go-round of arousal, affection and
self-defiance.  A tear rolled down her cheek as she mouthed the word
silently:

   "Yes."

   Her muscle squeezed against his finger.  His cock felt like it was going
to burst.  The anticipation of stuffing Sarah's virgin ass with his dick
was overwhelming.  He didn't care about anything else.  He made Sarah stay
there grunting against his hand.  Her heels were unsteady on the tile floor
and her panties stretched beyond elasticity as he gathered more lube and
worked two, and then three fingers into her slowly dilating anus.

   Eventually he lowered his own pants and started stroking his cock. 
Occasionally, his fingers would rub against her pussy and feel the juice
that leaked out of her, only to reach out and pull back on her hair--wiping
her wet sex into it.

   "Where am I going to put my cock, Sarah?" He needed to hear her say it.

   Between her deep grunts of pleasure and pain, he saw her eyes lock onto
his.  "In my ass.  Okay?  Are you happy, you ruthless fuck?"

   God, he loved it--he fed off of her resistance.  Her heavy breaths and
shiny forehead showed her effort in trying to accommodate his fingers.  Her
flushed face and hard nipples betrayed her filthy arousal despite the
submission and pain.  He was going to take her, right there, right then. 
He wanted her to see her face the first time his cock violated her ass.

   He pulled his fingers out, and once again took position behind her,
watching her terrified face in the mirror.

   "You filthy little whore."

   He stuffed his dick into her soaking pussy.  He figured giving her a
little thrill wouldn't hurt, and a little extra lube wouldn't hurt either.
She screamed with a dry throat as his cock filled her cunt.

   "Oh my God," she said, her eyes wide open with unexpected bliss.

   That was enough.  He pulled out of her pussy and took aim at her
puckered rosebud.  He pushed her head down onto the marble countertop,
causing her shapely bottom to jut out behind her.  His hands pulled back
her hair, forcing her chin to hover above the marble so that she faced
herself in the mirror.  With a little last minute dollop of lube, he
pressed his cock against her opening.  He watched her face contort, and
heard her throaty protests as her ass started stretching around the head of
his engorged member.

   "Ohhh.  My God.  No.  Wait!  Jesus!  Stephen, Stephen!" He was slow.  He
was careful, but he didn't stop.  Her ass was so tight.  It was so
incredibly slick around his shaft--squeezing it, milking it in her efforts
to allow him entry.

   "Shhhh," he said quietly.  He read her face in the mirror as she started
to relax and allowed him to take her, both physically and spiritually.  Her
defiant eyes locked with his while his cock ever so slowly slid into her
tightest and most forbidden hole.

   "Do you like being treated like this?" He couldn't resist.  His cock
slipped even further inside her.

   Sarah's teeth clenched together and she wailed between them.

   "God, your ass is so fuckable, Sarah." His shaft finally slid all the
way in--he could feel his balls dangling against her wet pussy lips below.
He ground his crotch against her soft flesh, and saw her mouth wide open in
a silent scream.

   "Ooooh, that's better," he said.

   He stayed there, not moving--his cock completely buried inside her.

   She released an almost cathartic wail from deep inside her.  The hard
surfaces of the bathroom reverberated her body's pure, defiant surrender to
his cock.  To him, it was the sound of singular, possessive bliss.

   "Did you ever think you'd let a man do this to you, Sarah?" He simply
enjoyed her pulsating anus around the base of his cock.  His victory became
complete when he watched her slender arm move downward and slink toward her
crotch.  Her finger started working frantically underneath her glistening
body, its movements tickling the hair on his balls.

   Her breathing was ragged.  "FUCK!  Fuck, fuck," she cried with sharp
anger and desperate pleasure below him.  He pulled his cock out about half
way.

   She grunted loudly, and pierced him with her eyes.  "Fuck you!"

   He pushed in again, then out, then in--slowly, deliberately, ruthlessly.
He started fucking her tight anus with his thick cock.

   "God, such a horny little slut!"

   She grunted helplessly in time with his penetrations.  Her wet body
jerked against the cold marble of the bathroom counter with each of his
ever more forceful thrusts.

   Ten years later, Johnson was shaking his head back and forth in his
entertainment room chair.

   Images of the saliva soaked strands of carpet pressing against his nose,
and the vivid memories of his own brutal butt-fuck rampaged through his
mind.  "Oh, you're such a filthy little bitch," Cindy's voice mocked him.
Her rubber cock might as well have been real the way she had pounded into
his abused body, taking as much pleasure from him as he had with Sarah
those many years ago.  The terrible pain and sense of enslavement he felt
along with the insane need to cum had been all consuming.  He shifted
uncomfortably in his chair.

   The memories of Sarah would not give him rest.

   Johnson fucked Sarah's tender ass.  He was close, and he knew that she
was too.  She had gotten used to his size, and to the feeling of his
sodomizing cock.  He fucked into her from his engorged head to his sweaty
balls--using her, possessing her.  The look on her face was
inexplicable--pain, pleasure, surrender, and love all at once.  He had now,
finally, taken everything from her.  The euphoria of his sexual power was
overwhelming.  He felt a tingle creep up from his loins, and the promise of
his rising sperm began countermanding all other thoughts.

   "Uh!  Oh!  Ooooh, my fucking God!" she wailed, her cheek now resting on
the cold counter where a puddle of drool had collected near the corner of
her mouth.  He felt her shuddering uncontrollably below him.  His cock
erupted inside her, coating the walls of her ass with his sublime cum.  Her
anus strangled his cock--milking his seed into her until finally he
collapsed on top of the defeated girl.  She continued convulsing in sharp
spasms below him as her orgasm subsided.  He felt her slippery skin against
his, and he felt the blood in his spent cock trapped by her constricted
anal muscle.

   "Oh my God, Stephen, you're so amazing.  You're so amazing." Her muffled
cry was so sweet.  She seemed so resilient, yet so conflicted.  She really
did love him, and as his shrinking cock finally slipped out of her tight
ass-hole--her body flinching with the sudden contraction of her released
sphincter--he knew it had to be over.  He couldn't allow this to continue.

   He was surprised by his own heartsick emotions as a tear of his own
formed in the corner of his eye.

   Through an exhausted and needful voice--as if seeking to justify
everything she had given him--she sighed the question:

   "Do you love me, Stephen?"

   - - - -

   Johnson's eyes opened.

   He never saw Sarah again after that night.

   The horror of what he had done to her started to take hold of him.  His
aching muscles and swollen wrists only intensified the sensation.  He
realized for the first time what an unimaginable bastard he had been.  He
didn't understand until now--the violation--to be taken, used for someone
else's pleasure, and worst of all, to finally be thrown away like a
fucked-out whore.

   "Jesus, God!" he breathed.  The deep sense of betrayal and her own
feelings of self-hatred must have consumed her.  He had left her feeling
like a piece of used sex-meat--exactly the way he felt now.

   Sharp signals of pain shot up from Johnson's abdomen as he tried to
suppress a self-disgusted chuckle.  He thought leaving her was the right
thing to do at the time.  He wanted to save her from himself.  He was so
fucking stupid.  Gentle Sarah--she had really loved him.  He never knew
why, and only at the very end had it even meant enough to him to try to
make amends--to set her free.  She had deserved so much better.

   Overwhelming shame washed over him.  He curled into himself on the
chair--his pain racked body reinforcing his own feelings of despair.  He
wished he had never been born.

   He felt disgusting.  Empty.

   Old.

   Tears started rolling down his face.  He wanted to apologize.  He wanted
to know what had happened to her, and he wished he could somehow make
amends.  He hoped that she had found someone worthy of her--someone who
would take care of her.  He wept for the piece of her gentle soul that he
had stolen--a possession his heart treasured now more than ever.

   His sobs slowly ebbed into wheezy breaths, and he finally fell into a
troubled slumber.

   - - - -

   Silence.

   Johnson became aware of the soft light leaking through his closed
eyelids, even as he lingered on the reflections in his mind.  He was lost
in a blurry haze somewhere between his dreams and reality--his mind
flooding with questions, regrets and pathetic shame.

   Signs of the real world started to become more prevalent.  One by one,
the signals from his ragged nerve endings to his brain started trickling
in. His eyes fluttered open in response to the haze of illumination that
penetrated them.

   He was in a painful daze, unsure of where he was, or when.  His head lay
back on the chair, resting on its side.  In his line of vision was the
silhouette of a female form.  She was leaning against the doorway to the
room.  Her gentle curves were backlit by the warm glow that washed through
the hallway behind her.  She was naked.  Her head leaned sideways, the
light playing through the soft strands of her hanging hair.  Something
dangled from her hand, it looked to be a belt, or strap of some kind.  He
could barely make out the girl's eyes reflecting the light that washed over
his chair.

   She watched him in silence.

   "Sarah?" His weak voice barely trickled through his parched throat.  He
wanted so much for it to be her.  He wanted to hug her.  He wanted to warm
her--to treasure her--as he should have years ago.  He wanted to apologize
for ever having insinuated himself into her life.

   She didn't answer.  She didn't move.  She was so beautiful.

   As Johnson's conscious mind slowly returned to him, he smelled his juice
crusted face and felt the tender puckered flesh of his bottom.  His breath
quickened uncontrollably when it slowly dawned on him where he was.

   The girl abruptly shifted her weight away from the wall and started
walking slowly towards him with the shadowy straps swaying below her fist.

   "Cindy?"

   His heart hammered in his chest.  Sweat seamed to rush out of his
forehead with his renewed terror.  What the fuck was she going to do?

   "Wait.  Cindy.  Please!" he begged, ignoring the pain in his shoulders
as he struggled uselessly against his steel bonds.  He felt completely
helpless.

   She touched the unidentified object she was holding against his dry
lips. He struggled for air and inadvertently opened his mouth, allowing her
to press the rubber ball between his teeth.

   "Quiet time, doggy." She strapped the ball gag behind his head.

   She stepped back as his eyes finally started to regain their focus.

   The gently pressed line that ran down between her breasts and through
her flat navel seemed to shimmer in the side lighting from the hallway. 
Her chest was flushed, and the erect shadows that her nipples cast along
the sharp curves of her breasts called directly to his trapped tongue,
which instinctively licked the back of the rubber ball in his mouth.  Her
shaved pussy, the object of so much of his humiliating desire in the past
couple days, still looked so young and enticing, yet he knew better.  He
knew how selfish it was--how ruthless.

   He begged; he apologized; he lusted.  Above all he wanted to express to
her his terrible regret in hopes of her granting him mercy.  Instead,
Johnson's gagged mouth emanated wet, incoherent moans.

   Her intense eyes told him she wasn't listening anyway.  They played over
his body with hungry contempt.  Her fingers rested along her tight thighs
and started inching their way upward, tracing the profile of her frame to
her breasts where they tickled and pulled at her erect nipples so that they
stretched into peaks before him.

   "Oh my God," her barely audible voice breathed.  She looked at his
hardening cock and sticky body as if he was nothing more than a plaything
that she was preparing to make use of.

   "Fuck it." She breathed out in a clear, lust-fueled decision, and
silently walked over to the corner of the room to one of her cursed grocery
bags.

   Johnson wished desperately that he could read her thoughts.  Her hungry
eyes scared him.

   She pulled out a collar with a chain attached to it, and something else
that looked disturbingly similar to a snake with two bulbous ends, which
she tossed under his chair.  Her hands fumbled with acute impatience while
she quickly buckled the scratchy leather tightly around his neck.

   Her tiny nipple, only a tongue's length away from his bound mouth,
seemed to quiver in response to the adrenaline he could practically see
pumping through her body.  His heartbeat pounded in his ears, along with
the fluttering sound of the breath escaping her lungs.  Her hands wrapped
around his ankles and yanked them downward so that his sore ass dangled off
the edge of the chair.  She then pushed against his thighs so his feet
dangled helplessly above him.

   She grabbed the bottle of anal lube from the floor and opened
it--applying it to whatever she had hidden under the chair.  Johnson
bicycled his legs, wanting to edge his ass up the chair and protect it from
whatever she had planned, but at the same time, not wanting to defy her.

   "Uhhnnn!" he screamed with frustrated fear.

   The bottle vibrated in response to her squeezing fist; her eyes focused
on her task as if he wasn't even there.  She put her hand on his ass to
split his crease open.  Her other hand revealed another rubber cock, this
one much thinner than the strap on that she'd used on him earlier, but also
longer.  The sticky tip pushed against his loosened anus.  His cock jumped
stiffly and he grunted in searing pain as she impatiently stuffed the toy
into him.  She watched with charged fascination while he thrashed on the
chair struggling to process all the conflicting sensations of his body and
mind.

   As she released his ass cheeks, he noticed a thin rubber tube extending
from his ass and dangling off the front edge of the chair.  Johnson
hyperventilated through the wet rubber in his mouth, and his heart raced.

   All of Johnson's earlier thoughts of using Cindy--of filthy,
cock-stuffing, skull-fucking revenge were long since gone.  Only the
terrible feelings of cunt-starved terror remained.  His body jerked
spastically, and his mind was a maelstrom of oversexed stimulation.  His
insane slavery was more evident to him than ever when all he could think
about was her tender flesh, and his need to feel it in whatever debasing
capacity she was willing to allow.

   Cindy stood up and grabbed his jangling bitch-leash, yanking hard up on
it and interrupting the air to his lungs.  He got the message and carefully
lowered his legs, then moved his butt up the chair so the toy was squeezed
against the seat below.

   She lifted up on the rubber tube sprouting from his ass, revealing the
bulb at the end.  Her hand started pumping on it, and he felt renewed pain
in his expanding cavity.  She straddled him and rested her bottom on his
thighs.  He could smell her shaky breath as she reached down and jerked on
his cock like she was preparing it for use.

   His voice cracked through his gag.

   Every inch of her body seemed to twitch with sexual energy.  She rested
her wrist on his shoulder and kept pumping at that fucking bulb right next
to his ear.

   Ffft.  Ffft.  The air breathed through the bulb and transferred into his
splaying anus.  His toes curled, then immediately stretched apart in an
opposite reaction to avoid the impending cramps in his feet.

   "Uuhnn!" He screamed into his gag with a combination of pain and
ruthless pleasure.  She bit her lip and watched his face with wide eyes,
still relentlessly pumping her fist in his ear.

   Ffft.  Ffft.  Ffft.

   He was fuller now than he had ever been.  The terrible device stretched
out his insides, poking against his prostate.  His cock responded
obediently to the stimulation of her stroking hand and the toy's prodding.
She carelessly tossed the bulb aside so that it dangled off the chair.

   She paused, and looked away from him, seemingly in the midst of a
terrible internal conflict that had very little to do with his needs.

   "Fuck," she whispered shakily, and then turned her attentions back to
his face.  Her eyes were filled with a strange understanding and longing.
She breathed in through her parted lips while she looked at him, and her
sticky bottom abruptly lifted off of his thighs, leaving his legs to
rapidly cool from the evaporating perspiration.  She held his cock upright,
and her sweet pussy lips barely tickled the hole of his engorged tip.  His
thighs shivered involuntarily underneath her.  His sex-blurred vision could
barely make out her perky tits jutting toward his face.

   He couldn't breathe.  The kaleidoscope of deep emotions in her face was
indescribable.

   She took in a deep breath through her clenched teeth and pressed her
tense calves against his thighs, lowering her frame onto him.

   " Ohh." Both Cindy and Professor grunted in a gravelly chorus as her
impossibly tight cunt molded around the aching head of his cock.  The
divine feeling seemed to intensify the already overwhelming stimuli that
racked his body and mind.

   She released his disappearing shaft from her guiding hand and grabbed
the leash next to his neck.  Her slick folds squeezed snuggly against him
as she released her pent up breath onto his lips.  Her blue eyes bore into
his, and the tips of their noses touched.  Slowly, her wetness consumed
him.

   He closed his eyes, letting the sublime pleasure of her heavenly body
and the evil sensations of her latest instrument of sexual slavery envelope
his very soul.

   Her intense gaze seemed to pierce through his eyelids, and she suddenly
jerked hard on his leash, prompting him to quickly open his eyes again. 
She slowly slipped up and down around him--breathing deeply in and out with
every stroke.  His breaths matched hers, and it was the only sound that
broke the silence between them.

   Her eyes seemed to talk to him.  He felt her innocence in them, her
intensity, her pain, and most of all, a singular, animal desire.  She
fucked him.  Her pussy constricted around his cock; her firm nipples rubbed
against his.  She took pleasure from him as if she was sucking his soul
away.  His skewered ass, his engulfed hard on, and her deafening silence
were unavoidable reminders of his status as nothing more than a mindless
pussy-slave.

   Sarah must have felt exactly like this.  He had no control over
anything, least of all his body's inescapable need for Cindy's very
essence. His hips ignored the delicious agony their thrusting caused him as
his cock reached deep inside her with an insatiable hunger he'd never felt
before.  The desperate feeling was both exhilarating and horrifying.

   Her pace quickened.  Tears rolled down her cheeks; her breathing became
desperate.  She was reacting to him, and whatever she was seeing in his
eyes.  He saw himself in her face--a lusty, guilt-ridden expression that
reminded him of the awful things he'd done to Sarah.  He somehow knew that
Cindy must be feeling the same thing he was, and yet, like him those many
years ago, she couldn't deny her insatiable cunt's desire his undeserving
cock.  He suddenly felt more connected with Cindy than he'd ever felt with
anyone.  He wanted to surrender to her, to share with her.

   "Fuck you, Professor!" she sobbed.  As if unable to do anything else,
her hand plunged down between her thighs and she fingered her engorged clit
while she fucked him.  With the intense effort of her fiercely strong pubis
quaking against him--his cock sucked into her sticky, young body--he felt
more subjugated to her in that moment than ever before.  She pounded and
ground her shuddering hips against him.

   He bellowed into his gag with pain, grief and need; spit escaped the
corners of his mouth landing on Cindy's clit-focused forearm.  His mind and
body were overwhelmed.

   Her intense eyes drew his gaze like a black hole, focusing his anguished
psyche into the comfort of her connected spirit.  Her sweet voice started
low with a tiny whimper and crescendoed to a whine, then a soul-wrenching
wail as her pussy convulsed in orgasm.

   "Oh my God.  Oh my God.  Oh my God!" She screamed out.  Her eyes finally
closed and her head tilted upward.  "Fuck!  Make me cum you fucking prick!"
The rubber cock-balloon poked and thrust into his hole.  Her soaked body
spasmed uncontrollably, thrashing against him.  Suddenly, the over-stressed
plug in his ass burst and deflated, causing his anus to painfully contract.
It sent him over the edge.

   "Mmnnn!" Tears streaked down his cheeks.  His toes tensed against the
floor, pushing his cock as deeply into her pleasure-racked body as he
could. He felt his cum escaping in violent bursts, injecting his very
essence into the beautifully enigmatic girl on top of him.  Self-loathing,
sinful pleasure, and his ravenous desire for every complex fiber of Cindy's
being erupted in an emotional volcano in his mind.  His vision blurred. 
Absolute mental and physical exhaustion fell over him.

   Cindy stopped shaking and slumped her tired body against his
chest--almost knocking the wind out of him.  She continued squeezing her
pussy around his softening cock.  She shared her connection with him, even
as he felt the young girl weeping against his chest.  In many ways, she
still seemed like an innocent child, but in so many others she was anything
but.

   "Dammit!" she cried.  Her body seemed to be in such conflict between
pleasure and deep anger.  "You took Sarah away from me, you abusive fuck."
Johnson couldn't process his emotions.  He just listened.  "She's just
empty inside.  Do you understand?  She doesn't let anyone in.  How could
you do that to her?" She painfully gripped the flesh of his breast in her
hand to get his full attention.

   "She's my sister, Professor!" she screamed through her tears.  "First my
prick dad just fucked my mom one night didn't even care that I was born. 
He didn't tell Sarah, or his wife about me.  I didn't even know I had a
sister!  And then you had to come along."

   She wept uncontrollably.  "And here I am fucking coming all over you."

   "What the fuck is wrong with me!" she screamed at the ceiling, digging
her fingers into his breast and arm, and frightening him with a remarkable
spiritual power he had finally learned not to question.

   Tears ran down his cheeks.

   "She didn't deserve that, Professor.  She deserved so much better than
either of us.  Look at me, I'm just as bad as. . . ." She shook her head,
breaking off her gaze, lost in her own world.  "I'm so stupid." She buried
her face in her hand, sniffing back her tears.  Her shaky legs lifted her
lithe frame off of him as if she wanted to get as far away as possible.  He
moaned in anguish at the cold emptiness he felt when her warm pussy
expelled his unworthy cock.

   She wiped her face with the back of her hand, trying to regain her
composure.

   "She just deserves better." She was tired, and depleted.

   Johnson's ass was in terrible pain.  His spent cock glistened with
Cindy's juices.  He already missed her warm, generous body.  He wanted her
back.  He wanted her to tease him.  He wanted to be humiliated, as long as
he could be close to her.  He wanted to crawl inside her.  His sorrowful
thoughts of Sarah took a back seat to his extreme fear that Cindy was about
to leave and never return.

   "Do you understand?" She was still looking at him.

   His brain was overloaded with thoughts and images of Cindy.  His eyes
glazed over.  He was almost catatonic with sensual overload.  His
single-minded gaze reveled in watching the thick dollops of his cum
dripping down her thighs out of her gorgeously fucked pussy.  She caught
him staring at her and spread her legs to see what he was looking at.

   With a renewed focus and clarity, a strange understanding started to
take shape in her face.  Her playfulness once again started to return as if
all was not lost.  "You like that pussy, doggy?"

   Johnson whimpered weakly.  The only sane part of his mind that remained
knew that he must sound like a whining dog deprived of his favorite toy. 
His jaw ached, and his taste buds begged for just one more lick along her
gorgeous skin.  His nose sniffed wildly, taking in all the sex-scents that
had saturated the room, trying to pick out Cindy's lotion, her hair
conditioner, and the deep aroma of her sopping cunt.  He couldn't help it.

   "Oh my God." He could tell she finally understood what she'd done to
him. She knew how much he wanted her.  She knew what he had become.  With
renewed electricity, she said, "You don't want me to go."

   "Mmmmff," he whimpered.  He shook his head out of pure instinct.  It was
the last thing he wanted in the world.

   She looked at him mischievously.  She soaked up his need for her as if
it was a shot of pure adrenaline, and suddenly reached down to grab her
bunched panties off the floor.  She rested her foot in the seat beside him
so he got a good close up view while she wiped her reddened cunt clean of
his sperm.

   "Here." She tossed her soiled panties onto his already rejuvenating
cock. "Those are for your dolly, Professor." she sniffed.  "You two were
made for each other."

   He watched helplessly while she quickly slipped back into her shorts and
tank top.

   She appraised him one last time with contemptuous, yet sad
eyes--carefully weighing her words and understanding their full impact on
him.

   "I hope you miss me, Professor."

   - - - -

   "Professor Stephen Johnson?" asked the man at the door, carrying a
package under his arm.

   "Not anymore," answered Johnson.  He reflected on the months since he'd
gone to any classes.  At first the dean was furious with him, and not long
after that, the University had fired him.  Ronald Tyrney's string of nasty
messages about his obligations to Young Industries followed, and there was
no fucking way he was talking to that man--the unwitting accomplice to one
of Cindy's cruel mind-fucks.  Just like that, Johnson had been
disemployed--retired.

   He still held the money he'd embezzled, but there was no joy in it.  He
hadn't so much as ventured outside the house in weeks.

   Paranoia had set in over time.  He was convinced that somehow Cindy was
watching him.  He dared not dispose of the sex doll or any of the other
toys she'd left for fear of her.  They all still sat in the doll's box in
his garage.  He was worried that she might return, and terrified that she
might not.

   "What can I do for you?" Johnson nervously asked the plainly dressed
man.

   "Well, are you Stephen Johnson or not?"

   The question nagged at him.  Was he?

   While his body had eventually recovered from the abuses of those three
days, his soul seemed empty, and permanently marked by her youthful mind
games and indomitable sexual power.  He hardly thought of anything else
anymore.

   Since Cindy left, he'd never felt so alone in the world.  He still
marveled at the kind of planning, courage, and iron-will she must have had
in order to do something like that to him, and the kind of pain she must
have been in to motivate it.  The guilt of the terrible things he had done
had not subsided, but thoughts of her scent, the thin straps crisscrossing
tightly up her calves, her blonde pigtails, and her flushed reactions to
him never seemed to give his mind any rest.  They mixed together with the
deep sexual subjugation of her huge rubber cock stuffing his ass, and her
silky pussy lips engulfing his enslaved cock.  The flashbacks were
nightmarish in intensity, and still managed to make his heart pound and his
body sweat.

   The unforgettable connection of being inside her was animal, and the
memory always sparked a quivering longing all throughout his body.  She had
torn a piece of his soul away that night.  He still couldn't understand how
he had allowed her to consume him like that; all he knew was the terrible
emptiness he now felt inside.

   Was he really Stephen Johnson anymore?

   "Yes, that's my name," he sighed.

   "Package for you sir.  You'll have to sign for it."

   And still, there was Sarah.  She haunted him like a spectre in the deep
recesses of his mind, as if she was the life he could have had.  Sarah was
the only one he had encountered who actually seemed to care about him, and
he treated her worse than anyone.  He felt completely unforgivable--broken.

   Johnson was apathetic about the plain white box.  "Who's it from?"

   "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say, sir.  I'm just a courier.  You
can refuse delivery of course, but the identity of the consigner was to
remain confidential."

   Johnson turned the box over.  In the corner in small, pink unforgettable
handwriting was written: 'My Naughty Little Doggy'.

   A wholly unexpected flood of adrenaline pumped through his veins. 
Johnson's heart suddenly raced like he'd just run a four-minute mile. 
Cindy had sent something to him.

   His Cindy!

   "Yes.  Okay." He couldn't breathe, and cleared his dry throat, trying
not to give away his reaction to the courier.  It was a terrible rush--both
frightening and electrifying.  His hand shakily grabbed the pen looking
impatiently for the appropriate place to scrawl out a signature, so he
could dismiss the courier.  "Here?"

   He looked at the package with intense apprehension.  He hated his fear;
he hated the absolute need he felt in the pit of his stomach.

   He tore at the box in his hands.  He was scared and quickened by the
prospect that she wasn't done with him after all, and felt more alive than
he had in months.  He couldn't explain it.  He just wanted to hear her
again, to see her.  He salivated at the thought of her taste.

   Three items dropped out of the box.  One was a compact digital camera.
Another was a small plastic vacuum bag, which looked to lock in a tiny
cotton thong.  His trembling fingers fumbled like those of an impatient
child in his attempt to rip open the bag.  The instant he penetrated it,
air rushed in, and the cunty scent was released.

   It was Cindy.

   The unique aroma of her sex seemed to seep directly into his pores, and
his cock hardened as if he was a fucking Pavlovian dog.  He urgently
pressed the filthy garment to his face, his entire body shivering and alive
in a whirlwind of unexpected emotions.  His tongue snaked out of his mouth,
wanting to taste her.  He felt vile and pathetic, like a filthy dog eating
its own feces, and yet his conditioned instincts overpowered him.  He
sobbed uncontrollable tears into the damp material, realizing his desperate
weakness in reaction to the pungent smell in his nose.

   He almost didn't notice the slip of paper that floated out of the box
and landed on the floor:

   Hi Professor!

   Are you still pussy-whipped, doggy?  Is your dick all slicked up?  Are
you shaved?  Did the naughty boy open his present before reading my note?

   Her written words leapt off the page as if she was there taunting him in
person.  Johnson's hand grabbed his cock.  Just like that, it was as if his
body was on automatic pilot.  The note continued:

   God, I still get wet just thinking about it.  It's not fair.  I just
wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine, but I guess you gave me a
taste of Sarah's too.  I wish you hadn't been such a miserable prick to
her. Or maybe I don't.  Doggy.  Jeez, that's terrible of me, huh?

   I'm still mad at you, Professor.  I won't let you forget what you did to
her.  She's never forgotten you, that's for sure.  She'd be so angry if she
knew what I did.  Sarah's my only friend, really, but I hate that you might
be the only one in the world who actually understands me.  I wish I were a
better person.

   Anyway, I played hooky from class today and fingered my pussy all
afternoon for you.  God, I was soaked!  I couldn't help it.  I thought I'd
overnight you and your dolly some new panties to play with.  You still have
her, right?  She was expensive!  I just used dad's money to buy her.  I was
too pissed at him to spend the pity money that he gave me for ignoring me
all those years on anything else (well, except college).

   I want you to wear my panties for me.  Don't worry.  They'll stretch
out. I bet you'll look really cute--just like a little stripper slut!  Then
I want your dolly to wear that strap-on I left, and you can get on top so
she can ass-fuck you just like I did.  Maybe dolly can wear one of your
suits?

   I can't wait to see the pictures!  Don't worry.  The camera has a
self-timer.  Hurry up, though.  My pussy is wet just imagining you and your
dolly playing dress up together.  My email address is written at the bottom
there.

   His hand rubbed his cock while he thought of the doll.  It sat in its
box in the garage, still wearing Cindy's slut outfit from that night.  He
couldn't bring himself to touch it anymore than necessary for him to put it
away.  The thought of having to open that crate again tied his stomach in
knots, yet his cock remained dutifully faithful to Cindy's musky
pheromones. She couldn't be serious?

   Remember the rules, Professor?  I still have Ronald's number.  Maybe I
should come over and make you do it.

   Ever tasted girl-pee, Doggy?

   Love,

   Cindy

   Johnson's heart raced.  His body was flushed with perspiration, and his
legs were weak.  He looked around with a deep sense of paranoia.  Where was
she?  Was she here?  His fucking cock raged in his fingers.  He hated her,
but he craved her.  He was scared and disgusted, and yet the possibility of
another visit from her was painfully irresistible.

   He sat on his bed and pressed the thong into his nose.  His hand
frantically jerked his cock.  His mind flooded with obscene, stomach
churning, cock hardening images--smooth cunt-skin, salty cock-sperm, fresh
girl-piss, blonde pony tails, filthy man-cunts, strawberry lip gloss,
shaved balls, teenage "boy-beaters", red-assed spankings, swinging lube
bottles, cock-wielding fuck dolls, tit crushing tube tops, and Cindy's
gorgeous sex-racked face.  His rabid, perverted cock wanted her to
humiliate him to the point of insanity, and then he wanted her to get off
on him.  More than anything he wanted to see her cum again.

   "Ohh, please Cindy.  Please.  Fuck me like a bitch.  Punish me." He
spoke into the thong as if begging the imitation to give him the real
thing. His tongue licked the material and his feet kicked rapidly in front
of him as his thighs shuddered uncontrollably in orgasm.  His thick white
cream exploded all over his disheveled shirt and pants.  The digital camera
she had given him dropped from the shaking bed to the floor, and for a
brief instant he wondered if he'd broken it.  He sat disgusted with himself
for a moment.  The only shred of sanity he had left abandoned him when his
shoe lifted into the air and crunched the camera against the carpet.

   When would she be here?

   When?

   - - - -

   EPILOGUE

   "Hey, what about her?" Jeff nudged his friend Kevin just as Chemistry
class was finishing up for the day.

   "So?  What about her, bro?"

   "You know!"

   "Oh.  I don't know dude, she seems kinda strange," said Kevin.

   "Come on!  She's hot, Kev.  Plus I've been watching her for a few days.
She doesn't look like she knows anybody.  She's probably fuckin' clueless."

   The two friends slinked out of their chairs and discretely edged around
the large lecture hall to get a closer look.  The blonde was still studying
the chalkboard, apparently trying to make sense of the pointless formulas
the professor had jotted down.  Jeff noticed another guy, a lanky type with
pale skin, thin glasses, and short hair, sitting a couple seats down from
her.  Jeff chuckled to himself as he watched the nerdy boy trying to
discretely steal glances at the blonde as well.  Jeff had him pegged as one
of those lame, shy guys who would never have the balls to actually go after
a girl like that.

   Jeff motioned for Kevin to wait for him outside as he snuck closer and
sat a few seats behind her, wanting to case her out for a little while
longer.

   Her curly pony tail smacked her shoulder as she whipped her head to the
side and looked at the geek.  She hesitated a moment, but then blurted out,
"Hi." Jeff could see him trying to hide his disbelieving reaction.  This
guy was such a pussy.  "Do you know what any of that stuff means?" she
continued.

   "Yeah, kinda." What a moron.

   "Really?" She stood up and grabbed her book bag, edging by the row of
seats and walking toward him.  Her tight jeans hugged her slender hips, and
her stretchy salmon colored shirt accentuated her firm torso, with three
buttons tight across the top of her breasts.  God, she was cute.

   "Could you help me, maybe?" she asked the wiry guy, who had that deer in
the headlights look.  "I don't really know anyone else here."

   There was no way this freak deserved this hot girl, Jeff thought.  What
was she doing bothering with this guy?  Was she fuckin' stupid?

   "Yeah, uhm.  Okay," he shifted in his chair, with a strange kind of
fight or flight response.  He moved his book bag out of the seat next to
him so she could sit down.  He was obviously trying to be cool.  He was
failing miserably.

   "Yay!  Really?  That's really nice of you."

   Jeff caught sight of the blonde's incredible smile.  It even made his
cock stir in his pants, and he'd fucked a lot of cute girls back in high
school.

   She brazenly craned her neck and gave the guy a peck on the cheek.  The
nerd flinched instinctively away, but she didn't even seem to notice.  He
tried to hide his blushing face.

   Jesus, that was it!

   "God, what a loser," Jeff spat inadvertently.  He jumped up from his
chair, making more noise than he intended.  They both looked back at him,
and he pretended to be getting his things in order to leave.  The blonde
smiled at him.

   "Hello.  Did you say something?" she said.  He could feel her blue eyes
getting a good look at his rugged frat boy looks, but she looked at him
suspiciously through her smile.  She couldn't have heard what he said,
could she?  No matter, he thought.  She would be his, anyway.

   Jeff shook his head and smiled as politely as he could to both of them.
He then quickly left the room so that he could hatch a plan.  This
pussy-ass punk was going down, he thought.

   Few girls back in Jeff's high school could resist his good looks and
expensive car.  He knew the type, and there was no way this cutie would be
able to resist him either.  Besides, he wasn't about to let this pathetic
freak have her.  It was a matter of pride.  He was running out of time to
make a choice anyway, and she seemed the perfect mark for the task the
exclusive fraternity had assigned him.

   "Are you sure about her, man," Kevin said after Jeff had met back up
with him in the hallway.  "Didn't she just transfer in a month or two ago?"

   "Duh!  That's the point, dude!  She won't know shit!  Seriously, what's
the matter with her?  Did you see her smile at me?"

   "Yeah, I saw it.  I don't know; it's just a feeling.  You only get one
chance to pick the girl, Jeff.  They were really clear about that at the
pledge meeting."

   "Oh don't be such a pussy.  What's her name anyway?  Samantha, Cynthi--"


   "I think it's Cindy, dude," said Kevin.

   Jeff smirked.  "Whatever."

   -- THE END --
   This story is dedicated to my special friend, Green Gem.