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Article 14 of 31
Subject: Repost: Fantasia--Suffering Students 19/25
From: pamela7@juno.com
Date: 1997/05/01
Message-Id: <33681709.21030422@NNTP.ix.netcom.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
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SUFFERING STUDENTS 19/25
by V.P. Viddler
19
Miss Anger's class was almost as much fun as Mr. Gibbs'. For me,
anyhow. Because each time I saw Miss Anger I recalled that morning in
Doctor Pratt's office, and I recalled that fabulous body naked, and I
thought about what Miss Anger had looked like all naked and sobbing
and hurting. I recalled the sight of her with Pratt's cock in her
mouth, and with Pratt's cock up her ass; and I recalled the way she
had looked and sounded and felt bucking and squirming and flailing
underneath my body as I raped the shit out of her, Pounding up and
down, in and out of her as she howled and fought and twisted
desperately against the floor.
I saw all that in my mind every time Miss Anger walked into the
classroom. And she knew it. Knew what I was watching in my mind. And I
knew she knew. And though that knowledge was exciting to me, it was
exquisite hell for our beautiful teacher. A flush would come to her
face the first time she met my eyes, and after that she would avoid
looking my way as much as possible. When she had to call on me, she
didn't look at me. But she had that awareness all the time. The
awareness of my awareness. I had seen those breasts. I had ogled that
body bare. I had heard that mouth howling, and I had seen it stretched
around a big stiff cock. I had fucked her cunt. And there I was in her
class, day after day.
It was hell.
And that wasn't the worst part. No. The worst part was that she
was waiting. Waiting for that day. She knew it would come. And so did
I. Miss Anger could do nothing about it. Doctor Pratt had seen to
that. Nothing.
So Miss Anger could only wait. And I held off, day by day,
holding myself back, loving the anticipation, that almost painful
looking forward while holding back. And her awful shame and
self-consciousness and that terrible waiting.
But one day I couldn't wait any more. Not another second.
And Miss Anger knew right away.
I stood up, just stood up in the middle of something she was
reading, and she knew. Her face went suddenly white, and she dropped
her book and her voice faded out. And she stood there shaking.
Shaking. And the kids started to murmur, and the sound got louder,
until it was a low anticipatory cry for blood.
And I smiled.
"Miss Anger," I said. "I have a good idea. Why don't you finish
teaching this class on your knees."
Miss Anger stared. Swallowed. The kids went deathly silent. I
stood grinning.
"That would be nice," I said. "For us. To see you down on the
floor on your knees. We'd all dig that."
Miss Anger just shook. A thin, pitiful, involuntary sound issued
from her throat. It made my cock hard.
"Miss Anger," I said, and now I put something into my voice that
probably made her think of that morning in Pratt's office. "Go down on
your knees. Now."
Miss Anger was shaking harder and the thin moaning sound was
louder. And then with a sob of despair, Miss Anger slowly sank to her
knees.
Her skirt was in disarray across her thighs, and automatically
she started to straighten it. "No," I said sharply, making her
stiffen. "Don't touch it. It looks good that way. Now pick up the
book, Miss Anger. Go on. Pick it up and go on reading."
Miss Anger said one word: "Please." The way she said it almost
had me spurting in my pants.
"Would you rather do it with your dress off, Miss Anger?" I said.
Miss Anger went even paler and her head shook from side to side,
and I didn't even think she knew she was doing it, it was moving of
its own volition, shaking no so hard that that silky yellow hair was
flying about her stricken face.
"But," I said, "you know you will, don't you? Soon enough. You
will, Miss Anger."
And Miss Anger began to sob.
"Now," I said. "Pick up that book and go on with the class."
And sobbing, Miss Anger groped for the book and picked it up.
With difficulty she found her place. Her hands were shaking so hard
that she could hardly hold on to the book. Then, there on her knees on
the dirty classroom floor in front of all of us, Miss Anger began to
read again. Sobbing as she read. Sobbing so hard that it was almost
impossible to hear what she was reading. But that was all right.
Nobody was listening to the words. We were all listening to her cry.
And looking at our luscious and haughty Miss Anger as she knelt on the
hard floor, knelt in shame and humiliation and horror. And knowing, as
she knew, that this was only the beginning. The first step. Knowing,
as Miss Anger knew, that now it was only a matter of time until she
would stand naked in front of the whole class. Until she would strip
for us. Until we would be watching in joy as Miss Anger crawled for
us. And finally--
And the bell rang. Class was over. There was a murmur of
disappointment through the room. But the kids had other classes to go
to, and gradually they left.
Miss Anger started to get up, but I said, "No. Stay." And she
froze. Many kids lingered to hear what I was going to say. I said,
"Tomorrow, Miss Anger."
"Please," Miss Anger whimpered, looking at me in pleading
desperation. "Oh, god, please--"
I had to restrain myself; I wanted to go to her and whip out my
cock and grab her hair and ram it into her twisting mouth and into her
throat until she was choking on it, and fuck that gorgeous face till
she gagged on my come. But I didn't.
I said, "Tomorrow. You will wear something tight. You understand,
Miss Anger? A dress. A tight, tight, clinging dress. You know. One of
those soft wool jobs that just stick to you all over. You hear me,
teacher?"
Miss Anger was sobbing again, or still. I took a step forward.
Hastily, she nodded her head.
"And," I said. "No underwear."
"W-what?" Miss Anger gasped. Her fine big eyes went wide.
"That's right," I said. "You will not put on any underwear. No
bra. No panties. No slip or anything. No stockings. Just you, Miss
anger. Just you under your tight sexy dress. And I mean I want those
nipples poking out. I want to see the folds in your crotch. I want--"
"No!" Miss Anger cried pitifully. "No, god, no, I can't, I can't,
don't--"
"You can and you will," I said. "Or Doctor Pratt will know it."
And now the still kneeling young woman sobbed in truth. Her
breasts heaved, body shaking.
"You will do that, won't you?" I said. "Tell me."
"Oh god yes oh god oh no oh yes yes. All right. Yes."
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