Fettisia's Torment


     The Child-Woman named Fettisia stands trembling with
fear.  Her full crimson lips quiver.  Goosebumps prickle
the surface of her flesh.
     As punishment for her transgressions she has been kept
after class at her district's Government School for Sexual
Preparation.  She is thirteen years of age.
     A golden chain, fine but strong, has been wrapped
around her neck and then hooked to the punishment hook
above the blackboard.  She cannot move forward or from side
to side without feeling the strangling pressure of the
golden chain against her windpipe.  Fortunately for her,
she is wearing special shiny leather boots with seven-inch-
high heels.  Were it not for the heels, which give the
small Child-Woman those feel extra inches of height, she
would slowly choke to death.
     All the same, Fettisia the Child-Woman is not happy.
The seven-inch heels are extremely uncomfortable.  To
complicate matters still more, the shiny leather boots have
been laced to an almost unendurable tightness with the
schools's boot-lacing machine, a cruel and torturous
instrument said to have been inherited by one of the
ancestors of the school's founder who was thought to have
participated in the Pro-Christian Inquisition of 2089 as
well as the great Burning of the Virgins that had followed
soon-after.
     The Child-Woman's straight blonde hair spills like a
fluffy cloud over her bare sun-bronzed shoulders.
     Her slim strong thighs shudder.
     Her green eyes are damp with tears.
     Her face is contorted with pain.  So agonized is she
that she is unable to enjoy the soft caress against her
plump child-breasts of the black satin lining of her
rawhide brassiere.  She does not even feel the rubbery
squeeze of her torturously tight flesh-colored latex
panties.  She feels only the discomfort of her cruelly
laced leather boots with the seven-inch heels.  That, and
the cold grip of the golden chain around her neck and the
fearful anticipation of her teacher's excruciatingly
punishing black bullwhip.
     By twisting her head, Fettisia is able to see the
words "Fuck me, suck me" written in tremblingly childish
letters on the schoolroom's blackboard.  They have been
written there one hundred times by Fellatia, one of
Fettisia's young classmates.  Fellatia has been punished
for a far less serious transgression than Fettisia.  It is
now many hours since Fellatia had expiated her guilt by
writing "Fuck me, suck me" on the blackboard one hundred
times.  She had gone back to her cell, accompanied by one
of the school black uniformed guards.
     Fettisia sobs silently.  The bell in the tower of the
school had just struck midnight.  A cold draft races
through the empty classroom, raising still more goosebumps
on Fettisia's bare flat bronzed midriff.  The salty tears
gush more heavily now from her green eyes, down her
straight nose, across her full quivering crimson lips, into
her wet pink mouth.  After all, she has been trussed in
this manner since three o'clock in the afternoon.  She does
not know how much longer she will be able to bear this
agony.  Only the thought that if she faints the golden
chain will strangle her keeps her from keeling over.
     Quite suddenly, from the stone corridor outside the
classroom, Fettisia hears the sound she has been
anticipating for the past nine hours--the metallic clang of
her teacher's heavy sterling silver evening slippers
against the cobblestoned corridor floor.  All at once there
is a rush of air.  The brass-studded leather classroom door
swings wide.  Teacher has arrived.  She clangs into the
room, resplendent in her silver lame' skintight evening
dress, her hair done up in a severe bun fastened with a
manacle, her eyebrows garishly painted on in huge, thick,
sweeping, greasy arches, her lips painted with shiny black
lipstick, her stainless-steel incisors honed as sharp as
carving knives.
     Little Fettisia's heart leaps with hope, her Teacher
is not carrying her despised black Spanish leather
bullwhip.
     The Teacher crosses the room boldly, clanging toward
the blackboard, an evil wordless hiss emanating from her
lips.  Her cold eyes examine Fellatia's scrawl on the
blackboard.  She glares with satisfaction and then fixes
her icy eyes upon the trembling trussed-up Fettisia.
     "So, my wicked little wastrel," the Teacher purrs
malevolently, "how have you enjoyed your punishment do
far?"
     "Oh!  V... very... very well indeed, thank you,
Madame!" gasps Fettisia fully aware of the even more
ghastly punishment awaiting any student who fails to
appreciate fully enough any act committed upon of against
her person by the vicious schoolmistress.
     "You lie!" growls the Teacher, using her silver-
lacquered right hand to slap Fettisia's trembling cheek
with a resounding crack, eliciting a small shriek of
surprise and pain from the bound thirteen-year-old.  "Lying
little bitch!  You have note enjoyed one second of this!"
     Fettisia's mind races beneath a mist of pain.  She
must think of an answer which will not contradict anything
her Teacher has said, but that at the same time will
express appreciation for the agonies she had been
suffering.  She thinks quickly.  Then speaks.
     "Y... yes, indeed, Madame!  The hours I have spent
here, humiliatingly chained and trussed, have been the
utmost torture for me.  But I have learned to enjoy such
torture, indeed to relish it, in your class in Advanced
Sadomasochism.  And therefore I have very much enjoyed this
agonizing punishment, Madame!"
     The Teacher laughs, the light glinting off her sharp
stainless-steel incisors.  "Marginally well spoken, little
slut!  You have a quick wit about you.  It will stand you
in good stead when you are sent for further training in the
steaming brothels of Imperial Casbah."
     And then the Teacher's smile melts into a frown.  "But
quick wit is not enough," she says.  "As you are well
aware, you are being punished for habitually slow arousal
in your Anal Intercourse class.  True, you gasped and
moaned loudly along with all the other Child-Women when the
stud-slave assigned to you thrust his huge burning organ
into your tender pink rump.  But you were faking it!
Faking it, I say!  I will not have my little sluts faking
pleasure!  Never!  Never!"
     "I shall try to do better in the future," sobs
Fettisia, her tears now gushing down her slim graceful neck
and into the satin-lined cups of her rawhide brassiere.
     "I shall try to do better in the future," mimics the
Teacher with a mocking sneer.
     She spits in Fettisia's face.
     "Little bitch!" the Teacher hisses derisively, "I am
not interested in your attempts!  I am interested in your
success!  Who was it three years ago that taught you how to
bring the highest pleasure imaginable from the use of your
tiny pre-pubescent clitoris?  Who taught you to use that
stupid little mouth of yours to wring screams of delight
from male and female alike before you had reached the age
of twelve?"
     "Y... you, Madame!" screamed Fettisia, sobbing in fear
and shame.
     "Yes!" screamed the Teacher in return.  "I run the
most successful schools for sexual enlightenment in the
history of the world!  And I will not have some pitiful
frigid little slut ruining my perfect record!  Do you
understand me?  Do you?  Do you?"
     "Yes, Madame," sobs Fettisia, submissively.
     "Very well, then," says the Teacher, softening an
inscrutable trifle, "I shall unchain you and put you to the
test."
     So saying, the schoolmistress unhooks the golden chain
from the punishment hook above the blackboard and unwraps
it from around Fettisia's graceful neck.  Fettisia is
extremely careful not to breathe a sigh of relief.  Such a
sigh might only arouse her Teacher to horrible paroxysms of
anger.  All the same, as if merely for sport, the Teacher
abruptly whips the thin length of chain in a quick high
arc, striking it powerfully the Fettisia's bade midriff.
Fettisia squeaks in agony, as she had been taught to do, as
a bright red stripe fades into view crossing the small eye
of her indented navel.
     "Go you your desk and get your dildo,"  he Teacher now
commands.
     Obediently, Fettisia slips down the second aisle of
desks i the classroom until she arrives at her own desk,
third from the rear.  She lifts the lid and rummages
through the desk's contents.  At last she finds the dildo,
nestling snugly between a textbook on group orgies, a
monograph on lesbianism which she has been using as a
reference source for a forthcoming term paper, and a jar of
spiced oriental masturbation cream.  She takes up the
dildo, closes the lid of the desk and then returns to the
front of the classroom, hobbling uncomfortably in her
extremely high-heeled boots.
     At last back in from of her Teacher, the thirteen-
year-old Child-Woman stands rigidly at attention, scarcely
daring to breathe, awaiting her Teacher's next command.
     "Very well!  On your knees, slut!  Position number
three!" orders the harsh instructress.
     Immediately as she has been taught, Fettisia falls to
her knees, bruising them painfully against the hard cold
floor.  Then she bends forward slowly, in a graceful arc,
until her forehead is touching the floor ad her delectable
rubber-incased rump is pointing upward, toward the ceiling.
     "Now insert the dildo into your anus," orders the
schoolmistress, harshly.  "All the way in, as deeply as it
can go.  And be quick about it!"
     Instantly fettisia obeys.  The point of the fat dildo
thrusts against the rubber panties.  Fettisia's insides are
penetrated by the now rubber-encased dildo.  She can feel
the rubber stretching in the interior of her posterior
orifice, pushed by the unrelenting hardness of the firm
vinyl dildo, an exact replica of her stud-slave's painfully
huge and powerful organ.
     Fettisia's insides burn with the agonizing thrust of
the hard smooth latex-encased object.  She bites down hard
on her crimson lower lip, closes her eyes, attempts to
translate the searing pain into sexual pleasure.
     "Withdraw!" commands the watching schoolmistress.
     Fettisia pulls on the dildo, feeling the rubbery
contraction of her latex panties outward from her orifice
as she down so.
     "Insert!"
     Again she plunges the huge horrid thing deep inside
herself.
     "Withdraw!"
     "Insert!"
     "Withdraw!"
     "Insert!"
     More and more rapidly come the commands.  Faster and
faster plunges the object of sexual education.  Slowly,
passion fastens its grip upon Fettisia's overstimulated
nervous system.  The burning cavity begins to flutter with
true sexual excitement.  The fluttering races through her
body, spreading to her vagina, causing her to pulse and
twitch every which way.  Perspiration now pours down her
forehead.  She gasps and wheezes, heaves and sobs, moans
and gurgles as the vicious schoolmistress continues to bark
out her cruel commands to insert and withdraw.
     Fettisia's cheeks are flushed.  Her knees are grinding
against the hard cold floor.  Her body writhes as she
plunges in and pulls out.  The Teacher smiles, watching,
waiting, smugly enjoying every gasp and wheeze of the pain-
racked passion-tortured student.
     Finally laughing cruelly, the Teacher steps forward,
bends, inserts a slim sliver-lacquered middle finger
between Fettisia's straining young legs, thrusts, pushing
in the rubber, stroking the hard little button of the
clitoris through the thin, stretching latex of Fettisia's
skintight panties.
     The pupil gasps loudly, then shrieks, levitating into
the air on a powerful jet of passion, her insides throbbing
and contracting painfully, wonderfully, incredibly in the
ecstasy of orgasm.  She screams with both pain and delight
and then falls flat upon her face.
     "Much better," says the Teacher softly, smiling down
at the quivering, sobbing, hysterical mass of Child-Woman
flesh.  "Not perfect, but much, much better.  Take you
dildo back to your cell and practice for tomorrow's
lesson."
     The girl staggers from the room, dazed, tearful yet
already eager again for the press of vinyl against anus she
will feel the moment her cell door clangs shut behind her.


                -- END --