Part 7

Jim and Achilles returned the next day, Friday, to Sara's house. This time she made sure she was pre- pared, with two steak dinners ready and $500 cash sitting next to each plate. She wore only and apron and made sure to say "master" and "thank you" at the right times, and spoke only when spoken to. It was, she thought, singularly humiliating, but she didn't think she could take two days in a row of punishments, punishments which she both dreaded and desired. Jim and Achilles, for their parts, didn't seem inclined to push things. They did tie her wrists together behind her back and cinch her elbows together, which was painful at first and then just uncomfortable, and they did make her squirm across the floor and lick their feet, but otherwise they seemed content to just fuck her. They used all three of her holes again, and left her fully satisfied.

She was, she was afraid, beginning to get into it. She had kept her three studs, as instructed, but found sex with them to pale in comparison to Jim's torturous games. She found herself getting excited thinking about the next degradation he was going to inflict on her, rubbing herself to orgasm thinking of him. Maybe she liked it so much, she thought, because it was a new experience to her; before, she had always been the one in charge, always the one whose sexual appetites over- whelmed, and sometimes scared, her partners.

Here, Jim was in control, and Jim didn't give a shit about her sexual appetites -- to him, she was a piece of meat to fuck when _he_ wanted to fuck it, and that excited her. He used her desires to humiliate her, to rub her face in her sluttish behavior; he laughed at her and beat her and bound her desires to him. It was no longer a question of blackmail, al- though she still hoped to get that tape back, just in case; now she was a willing slave, willing to give him whatever he wanted.

Achilles, for his part, found his experiences with Sara exhilarating, and it gave him ideas about what to do with Amy Sanders. That evening he climbed in through her window and left his "requests" for the following week. They were rather simple: on Monday at 4:00 they were to meet in her room, and Wednesday and Thursday they were to meet in the orange grove at 4:15. Monday, Achilles figured, was the time for the open hand, the previous closed hand having been her humiliating spank- ing. He wondered, though, how long it was going to take before he could get down her pants: he was losing patience.

Jim was satisfied. Sara was turning into a good little slave. Her actions that Friday convinced him that it was time to really start her training, and to that end he signed her up for every night the following week, leaving him the weekend free to prepare. He was glad he had told Achilles: that boy had a certain some- thing. You could have knocked him over with a feather, though, when Achilles told him about Amy. He wasn't so amazed at what she had done, but that Achilles had been so quick to take advantage of it; his estimation of the boy rose with each passing day.

Amy was the one person of the four who was any- thing but enjoying herself. She had passed from a state of hatred toward Achilles toward a state of dread.

That Friday at school she had been withdrawn, and quailed inside every time she thought Achilles seemed to be around. She constantly thought about turning herself in, and once or twice even decided to do so, but then she discovered her dread of jail outweighed her dread of Achilles. Once, in a flash of insight which made her fear for herself, she realized what her dread meant: that she had resigned herself to Achilles' blackmail; she would no longer fight him.

While Ms. Ellsworth spent the weekend catching up on her schoolwork, and Amy spent hers in a state of acute depression, rarely moving from her bed, Jim and Achilles went shopping. The went across the state line and hit a number of pornographic video and book stores. They also stopped by a couple leather stores and found one place which specialized in bondage equipment. They managed to spend most of the $1000 they had extorted from Sara; the rest they spent at a hardware store, picking up the necessary hardware to put all the new ideas they had formed into practice.

Monday rolled around the schoolday passed pretty much as usual. After school, Achilles met Amy in her room.

"Hello Amy. How you doing today?" he asked, look- ing carefully at her, noticing the large bags under her eyes and the listless way she carried herself.

"I'm okay," she replied without much conviction, sitting down on her bed opposite him, yet not looking at him. "What do you want today?"

"Amy, I'm really sorry about this." He got no response. "You know I've always liked you," he kept at it, waiting for a response, "and, well, I was kind of mad the way you always ignored me, like you thought you were better than I was." He made sure to stutter and look away, peeking at her from the corner of his eyes. He was not disappointed to see her raise her head and look at him now. "When I got those photos, I... well... I kind of wanted to punish you for how you treated me, you see?" He looked pleadingly into her eyes. She was looking at him, but he couldn't see anything in those eyes accept a mute despair. Well, he thought to himself as he continued, I sure hope this works. "I feel really bad now, especially since I've got a girlfriend now." He noticed her start a little -- good. "I thought maybe I should give back the photos and everything" -- she was interested now: life and hope had come back into her eyes -- "but, well, I don't know. I still want to get to know you, without all this stuff between us, and I'm afraid if I give you the photos, you'll just ditch me." He looked up at her, trying to twist his face into his most dole- ful expression.

Amy didn't react through much of this speech, her mind was too dulled by despair. When he mentioned that he had a girlfriend, though, she perked up: she hadn't known, and was he saying that this might change things? Now what? That he was going to give her those photos? Oh please, please. No. What was he saying now -- that he wanted to be friends with her? That he wanted to put all this behind them? Of course she would ditch him if she could! She didn't hate him, but seeing him would remind her of the time in her past when she had been completely and utterly humiliated. So close to freedom! She forced herself to reach over to him and take his hands in her own.

"Achilles," she said softly, looking him earnestly in the eyes, "I'm sorry for making you angry. I'm sorry all this had to happen between us. I can be your friend. Let's talk. Tell me about yourself, tell me about your new girl. I want to listen." She sounded convincing to her ears, she hoped she sounded convincing to his; oh, how she hoped she sounded convincing to him.

Achilles smiled to himself: hook, line and sinker. "O... o... okay." He started out talking about his photography, about how all his life he wanted to capture life, to capture beauty. He shyly hinted that he had secretly taken pictures of her, so full of life and beauty. He talked about how he saw each photo, how he could live or relive each picture in his mind over and over again; how intoxicating and wondrous it was. He led into his new girlfriend (a complete fabrication) and how she too liked photography. He had met her weeks ago, and he hinted that they had just become intimate, sexually. He then rhapsodized about how wonderful _it_ was, leaving it unspoken; how it was the sharing of two souls, how it was a union of minds. He spoke of how _it_ felt, so good, like she had told him, like "taking and elevator up and up, faster and faster, until it burst through the roof of the building and then hung there, floating in the sky, finally com- ing gently to rest." He told her what was special was that she had felt this, that he had made her feel this. That was what he loved the most: her pleasure in him. He petered out about then, inwardly amused that she had listened so raptly to his every word, and then asked, awkwardly, if she had ever felt anything like that.

Amy at first listened to him because she had to if she wished to get those photos back, but then she truly began to hear him, and was amazed. He had been such a sleazeball the previous week, and yet here he was, spilling his soul to her, and it wasn't banal and uninteresting -- it was, well, she admitted to herself, deep. She was flattered by an oblique reference to her and listened, enthralled, as he talked about sex with his girlfriend. He made it all sound so wonderful, important and wonderful: the sharing, the feelings, the pleasure, the tending to each other's needs. The way he described it made her want to feel what he felt, to be on that elevator as it burst through the roof.

When he paused she was lost in daydreams, and she blushed a little when he heard him ask if she had ever felt that way.

She paused for a minute before answering, thinking of her past sexual experiences. She had lost her vir- ginity when she was a freshman to a senior jock, her first boyfriend. She remembered it had been extremely painful, but that she had been happy that he had enjoy- ed it so much. Of course, he had dumped her shortly thereafter, and she had been quite broken up about it. Since then she had only had sex with her last ex, and although it hadn't been painful, it had been nothing special -- in out repeat if necessary was what she remembered about it. It had been, she reflected, disillusioning.

"No," she answered him, "I've never felt that way before."

He commiserated, shaking his head and wishing that she could have the same feelings he had. He glanced at his watch and jumped up suddenly, "I've got to go. We're having company tonight." He gave her a quick peck on the forehead and ran to the window.

"The pictures..." she stuttered out before he was gone.

He paused for a moment as if considering, then said, "I don't know, Amy, I don't know. Give me some time to think about it?" With that, he smiled and slid down the tree, running back in the direction of his house.

Amy lay back on her bed and wondered. She was confused: was Achilles a psychopathic dweeb or was he really a sweet guy? She didn't understand him, couldn't make him out. He had been such an ass to her, setting out to humiliate her whenever he could, but today he had been so different, a sweet, shy guy who had fallen in love with some girl. Would he return those photos to her, she wondered? Was this all some bizarre plot to fuck with her mind? She doubted it -- he had been so sincere. Well, Wednesday would tell.

Achilles was on top of the world: she was hooked! Wednesday he would continue to talk to her, but he would talk more explicitly about his sexual experiences even if they were mere fabrication. He might even hint that his girlfriend was bisexual. He could go into more detail Thursday, and then, next week, he would produce her, Ms. Sara Ellsworth, playing the part of the love of his life. He didn't think it would be long after that that he would be porking Amy, sweet Amy. The photos, now he would keep those -- insecurity would be his excuse, and one he thought she would buy. Every- thing was working out as planned, and tonight was another night with Sara.

Jim and Achilles showed up at Sara's with two duffle bags full of goodies, and after dinner, Jim announced that it was time for her cunt-slave training to begin. He began by cuffing her arms behind her back and cinching her elbows together, and then tying her down face up on the table, so that her calves were tied to the legs of the table, spreading them wide and bend- ing them at the knee. He gagged her with a large ball gag and then began binding her breasts while Achilles ran a vibrator gently against her pussy lips. When the tops of her breasts looked like enormous red grapes about to burst, and her nipples were hugely engorged with blood, he began flicking them, earning cries of pain from her, mingled with moans of pleasure caused by Achilles' skillful manipulation of her clitoris. Jim moved to teeth and clothespins on her nipples, and then used rose stems and finally needles. Achilles was by now slowly, teasingly running the vibrator in and out of her sopping cunt, occasionally working it under her body and pushing it through her anus.

They worked her like this for close to 45 minutes, her cunt yearning for orgasmic release and her tits near bursting with overwhelming pain, a pain which blended with the pleasure in her pussy to drive her crazy with desire.

Finally Jim mounted her, holding his body above hers while jackhammering his cock into her cunt. She could feel her tits and body throbbing with pleasure as her orgasm approached, when, just before she came, Achilles cut through the bondage on her breasts, re- leasing them. She screamed through her gag as she orgasmed, blood flowing swiftly back into her aching tits, blinding her with pain as she bucked through her orgasm, the pain in her breasts adding a delicious spice to her come.

They untied her from the table and carried her, her arms still bound and her mouth still filled with the gag, into the bathroom. There they gave her an enima, one that burned like hot chili oil in the eyes, burned so that she sat moaning and squirming on the toilet seat and tried to shit her guts out while two strong pairs of hands held her down. They dragged her to the shower and sprayed off her crack, giving her some relief from the horrible burning in her ass and guts, but not enough; she was in mortal agony. Laugh- ing at her plight they dragged her back into the living room where they threw her over the back of the couch, her ass sticking high in the air. Achilles coated his cock with ointment of some kind and then forced it into her agonized, twitching anal passage. The ointment cooled off her insides, making the sensations assault- ing her ass barely manageable. Then, as Achilles began brutally fucking her ass and Jim grabbed her hair, slapped her face, and pinched her still sensitive breasts, she became consumed by a wild, animal passion. She came three times before Achilles spewed into her, each orgasm eclipsing the other, each orgasm painfully intense, centered in her burning ass.

Finally they dragged her back to the table and bound her stringently on her back, her shins and knees bound flat on the table near her chest, her pussy and ass exposed in the air, her head hanging back off the table. One of them slid his cock slowly down her throat, his balls nestled against her nose, and began fucking her mouth, while the other pinched and slapped and squeezed her nether regions. Her clit was pinched by strong fingers, nails cutting into her tender flesh, until she screamed through the cock in her throat. Her labia was pinched and pulled painfully, and her ass slapped and poked and tugged. Every few minutes they would switch places, and each time the one at her groin would rub it gently for half a minute, sending pleasure racing through her body only to be turned to pain as he switched tactics, assaulting her tender flesh with fingers and nails and palms. This went on for about a half of an hour before they came down her throat. They still hadn't let her come, and she began to beg them, plead with them, to fuck her. Jim only smiled and grabbed her clit between his thumb and forefinger, while Achilles did the same with her nipples.

Then they both squeezed, hard, harder, making her scream in agony, arching her back as she felt pain as she had never felt it before. Right before it became unbearable, right before she thought she was going to pass out, she came, screaming the whole time, and she came harder than she thought possible, seemingly for- ever. It only stopped a long while after they let go of her, and then they untied her and left her lying there, with a note from Jim beside her.

Later that night, before she dropped off to sleep, she realized what they had done: not one ounce of pleasure had she received without accompanying pain. Every orgasm was accompanied by a delicious agony, turning the natural reactions of her body topsy-turvy. She shuddered as she realized their plan for her: they were turning her into a pain-slut. Pain slut was the last thing she though before she drifted off.

Part 8

That Monday evening, all thoughts of Achilles were driven from Amy's mind when her father came home and told her that he had arrested her ex-boyfriend and two of his friends. They had, he told her, gotten into a fight in a bar, and her ex had shot someone dead with his father's rifle. Oh god, she thought, please don't let them find out about the store robbery. Her father, though, was telling her that the police thought the boys might be connected with the store robbery, but they couldn't prove anything, yet. Amy didn't fall asleep until late that night, worry eating up her stomach.

The next morning the news was all over the school, and when Achilles heard it, he was at first worried for Amy, but then he became ecstatic. This was the final nail in the coffin for her; he knew exactly what to do now.

Maria heard the news and didn't care. Since her rape she had been withdrawn and even more anti-social than usual. She was surprised, then, when Jim approached her at lunch and asked her to follow him. She didn't know Jim well, but she knew his reputation, so didn't hesitate to join him. If he chose to speak to her, she could learn something. She shivered, though, and almost balked, when he took her down to the same room in which she was raped. She entered anyway and was surprised to see two chairs set up be- fore a TV and VCR.

"Sit, sit," he motioned, and turned on the TV screen and started the VCR.

"Oh Jesus," she whispered softly as she recognized herself on the tape, herself walking into this very room and being grabbed by Ms. Ellsworth's three bully boys. She was frozen with shock, and she stared, transfixed, at the screen while Jim spoke to her in the background.

"I thought you might like to see this, Maria," he said, watching her closely. "With this tape you can put that bitch away for good. You know that. But I don't think that's good enough for her," he emphasized, leaning closer to the girl, "I don't think she deserves to get off easy with just going to jail. I want to see her punished, in pain, screaming for mercy. Maria?"

Maria tore her eyes from the video of her rape and turned her head slowly toward his. Her large brown eyes bore into his as she spoke, her voice loaded with passion. "Anything, anything you want. Just give me the cunt."

Jim let a smile grow over his face as he stared back at her impassioned face. Sara, he thought, was going to be in for a big surprise. Before she left, he gave her a duffel bag full of bondage and sado- masochistic books and magazines, all, he said, to give her ideas on how best to torture Ms. Sara Ellsworth. One last thing he gave her before she left: a new out- fit she was to wear when she came down to the boiler room on Friday afternoon, where her teacher would be waiting for her.

That afternoon, instead of heading home, Sara went down to the boiler room to await Jim and Achilles. She didn't have to wait long, and wasn't at all surprised at what they did to her. There was a lot more bondage and a lot more pain than pleasure than the previous evening, but it didn't matter, because already she was having trouble telling the difference. They whipped her, pinched her, slapped her, and fucked her repeated- ly for over three hours, then let her go home to col- lapse exhausted on the couch. She was out another five hundred dollars, but, she thought as she lay there, her body still buzzing from pain and pleasure, it was worth it. She almost couldn't wait for the rest of the week, all down in the boiler room.

Wednesday was a school day like any other, and Amy started to relax when she realized the boom had not yet fallen, and from what her father said, probably wouldn't fall. Her mind started to drift back to Achilles and what he had told her about himself and about his sexual experiences, and she obliquely questioned her girlfriends about their experiences. She didn't get any satisfactory answers, and almost looked forward to meeting him in the orchard that afternoon.

Four fifteen rolled around and she stood in the orange grove waiting for Achilles. He showed up a few minutes later carrying a duffel bag, looking, she thought, morose.

"Sit down," he said, following suit and putting on his most depressed face. He had rehearsed the follow- ing words over and over in his head all night; he hoped he wouldn't blow it. "You know, Amy, I've been think- ing a lot about the robbery. I've been feeling really guilty about not telling anybody about it -- I mean, a man was killed. No, don't interrupt. Then, when I heard about those guys getting arrested for another murder, it was like a great weight was lifted from my shoulders. You know?"

"I... I understand, Achilles, and..."

"Wait. I haven't finished. I felt better because they weren't getting away with what they did -- they were going to be punished now, and they deserved to be punished. Then I thought about you, Amy. You did this horrible thing, Amy, and you got away scot free!"

"Achilles..." she wheedled.

"No! It's true. Nothing bad has happened to you. Sure I spanked you and took some money from you, but what is that compared to a man's life? So I was think- ing, you know, maybe you should tell everyone what you had done, or else I could maybe send in the photos. You know?" With that he looked up at her with his best sad eyes.

Oh my God! she thought. He couldn't! He simply couldn't! She was in misery: to worry about the doom of jail and then to escape, only to be told that doom still awaits -- it was too awful. She stared at him with horror, her mind working frantically to get her out of this. He didn't _want_ to do this; he felt he had to. She could use that. She could. He also wanted her -- she knew that. Even with his girlfriend, he wanted her. But he wanted her punished too; she knew he wouldn't be deterred from that. How then? How to escape this trap? Suddenly an idea hit her: it was awful, but it was her only way out.

Slowly she got up onto her knees and leaned for- ward onto her fingertips until her face was only a foot away from his. "I... I don't _want_ to go to jail Achilles," she said softly, "but you're right, I did screw up, and I shouldn't get away with it, but you don't have to turn me in." He was looking at her now, curiosity replacing the sadness in his eyes. "I have," she swallowed, "I have a better idea, Achilles. You... you punish me. Please," she cried as she saw the look of surprise in his face, "please, do it for me. I don't want to go to jail!"

Achilles did his best to look surprised when she said the words he oh so much wanted to hear. Oh yes, oh yes he would punish her, but he said, standing and looking confused and embarrassed, "I don't know Amy. I don't know. Let me think about it. Let me think. Come down here at six and I'll tell you. I have to think." With that, he half stumbled half ran off, leaving her with an agony of waiting.

He practically ran all the way home, he was so elated. She was his! Finally she was his! He prac- tically jumped with joy at the thought. Sure, he was going to have to miss his fucking Sara tonight, but he would be punishing his dream girl, Amy Sanders. He already had some good ideas.

Amy stood in the orange grove for a few more minutes, fretting worriedly. God she hoped he took her up on her offer, but she was apprehensive too. Too have him punish her... She knew if he decided to he would humiliate her and degrade her like he had when he had spanked her. She wandered back to her house disconsolately, thinking in her mind anything he could do to her would be better than jail, no matter how humiliating. She started thinking, too, of what he had said: was it true that she should be punished? She had left a man to die, and then told no one who had done it -- wasn't that deserving of punishment? Didn't she deserve whatever Achilles was going (how she hoped he would decide so) to her? It wasn't only the robbery, either. How about how she treated her friends, like they were there for her, like they weren't even human? And how about how she thought about everyone else, thought herself above them, smarter and more attractive than them? She was going somewhere, she was a winner, they were all losers. Wasn't she only now getting her just desserts? She didn't like thinking all these things -- she wasn't naturally introspective -- but she couldn't stop herself; the tension of the past week had made her wonder about herself and her place in the world. She shuddered at the thoughts she couldn't push out of her head as she lay on her bed awaiting Achilles' decision.

Six o'clock rolled around and found them both standing among the orange trees in the waning light of the day. He had accepted her proposition and was now telling her to remove the flower pattern summer dress she was wearing, which so complimented her figure. She obeyed meekly; she had known something like this was coming, and had made her decision: she would do what- ever he asked.

Achilles watched with growing excitement as she stepped out of her dress and handed it to him. He stared at her lithe body for a moment, letting his eyes travel over her jutting breasts, encased in a push-up bra, her smooth white skin firm across her stomach and hips, a few curling pubic hairs peeking out from her white panties, and her perfect, long legs with shapely calves and thighs. He sighed and gently placed the dress near the duffel bag he had brought and took out several of the things he had brought.

Standing in just her bra and her panties, Amy hung her head, feeling the cool breeze of the evening caress her body and knowing, just knowing, that Achilles wanted to do the same. She shivered, then.

"Amy," Achilles spoke, "I found some things down in the basement which I thought I would use." He reached across to her and handed her a studded leather collar, padded on the inside, with four metal loops ninety degrees from each other on the outside. "Put it on."

She glanced up at him, but couldn't look; she was too ashamed. With her left hand she lifted her kinky sandy blond hair away from her neck and hooked the collar around her neck, clasping it shut in front. It was so demeaning, she thought, so demeaning to be standing her like this with this collar around my neck. Like a dog; like some animal.

"Here, put this on," he said, handing her a small padlock.

She obeyed mechanically, feeling awful, feeling like she knew she should be feeling for what she had done.

"Now put this in," he continued, handing her a somewhat wedge-shaped piece of pink plastic which fit in her palm, with two supple leather straps connected to the larger end by metal rivets.

She gazed at it for a minute then looked at him, confused. What was this thing? she wondered. Her light blue eyes widened in surprise and she blushed as she saw him motion toward his mouth and say, "You don't deserve to speak, do you?"

She shook her head and looked down again, opening her mouth and sliding the plastic in. It was cool and tasteless, but it stretched her jaw wide, the thin end fitting snugly against her back molars while the rest made sure to fill her mouth. Thankfully it left her tongue enough room so that she could swallow, even if it was pressed down against the bottom of her mouth. The whole thing didn't fit in her mouth, so her lips were bunched up uncomfortably around the end. She reached around and cinched the leather straps together at the top of her neck, her hands running up against the collar she was wearing. A wave of mental anguish washed over he then, but she pushed it back resolutely; it was no more than she deserved.

Achilles watched her put the gag in, imagining it was his cock. He watched as she worked her jaw wider and wider to accommodate the gag, and then jiggle it around so it was its most comfortable. He liked the way it made her face look: it softened the harsh angles of her face and distended her lips obscenely, the leather straps pulling the sides of her mouth into hollows, accenting her anguished eyes.

Amy stood there, her feet rooted to the ground, her body shaking with humiliation, as he slowly walked a circle around her. She knew his eyes were exploring her near naked body, knew he was appraising her even as she stood there in shame.

He went back to the bag and pulled out a riding crop and slid it through his hand before looking over at his prize. Her eyes were wide with surprise as he approached her, and she jerked back her head as he ran the crop gently against her cheek.

"None of that now," he said, smiling at her as he began gently stroking her face with the crop.

"AAAAAHHHHH... UUUUUUUUHHHHH" she grunted through her gag, scared now as she felt the crop run gently across her cheek, her forehead, down her neck. She couldn't stop her body from shaking; the crop was like a little charge of electricity wherever it touched, leaving a tingling trail down her neck, her arms, the top of her breasts, her stomach, the tops of the thighs and around to the back of her thighs. Now to her buttocks, the small of her back, between her shoulder blades. She was still shivering when the crop lifted, and she almost jumped when she felt his hand lay on her shoulder.

He watched the reactions of her body as he gently caressed it with the crop. She was shaking, scared, terrified and nervous, adrenaline coursing through her blood. She was on edge, standing on the tip of a needle, ready to fall whichever way he pushed. He smiled as she jumped at his touch, and whispered into her ears, "Down, down on your hands and knees."

She jerkily obeyed him, her whole body tight, her gut churning with nervousness. She had gotten herself into this, she thought. It had been her decision. The dirt, leaves and twigs felt rough under her hands and knees, and her breasts felt pendulous as they hung down beneath her, barely within her bra now. She closed her eyes; it couldn't get any worse. Then she felt his hands at her neck and something click shut, and she looked up to see him holding a leash.

"You're now my bitch," he said, and she didn't even mind, she was so numb -- numb and tense, strange her mind told her. "I need to give you a name... How about Princess? Do you like Princess?"

She nodded dully, accepting her fate.

"Let's go for a walk, come on Princess, let's go for a walk."

He felt a surge of power as he shuffled along with Amy crawling by his side, looking down at her back and gazing longingly at the side of her breast as it swung freely within her bra cup. He could make her take off her bra, he knew. Could probably even fuck her right now, but she wouldn't be into it, wouldn't like it, and he didn't want a motionless piece of ass. He wanted her to give herself to him willingly, to beg him to take her, to own her. This was just the first step.

Amy shuffled along beside him, feeling degraded, lower than a dog. It was awful: her knees and hands hurt from the clods of dirt and twigs digging into her skin, and she told herself she should get up and tell Achilles she wasn't taking any more of this. Punish- ment was punishment, but this was too much. But when- ever she thought this, her mind went back to that night in the truck, the gunshots and her panic and a man lying dead in the store, and she remembered they way she had looked upon Achilles and others at her school, as not human, as below her, and she didn't stand up and tell him off; she continued crawling on the ground like the dog she was -- it was only right and fitting.

He led her around like that for ten minutes, tugging at the leash whenever he turned. He brought her back to their original meeting place and said, "Stay!" He then walked ten yards away and took off his shoes and socks and sat down on the ground, his feet in front of him.

"Down on your belly, Princess," he called out. He was going to love this part.

At the sound of his voice Amy looked up at him sitting on the ground in the distance. She groaned a little as she lay down on her stomach, thankful that her weight was no longer on her knees and hands.

"Now crawl to me on your belly, my little bitch," she heard him call out and she groaned inwardly. Hadn't he punished her enough yet? But no, he hadn't, and she knew it. She began squirming across the ground, using her thighs and upper arms to drag herself across the dirt. She felt the dirt roll and scrape against the flesh of the thighs, her stomach, and her breasts. As she made her way slowly toward Achilles, she felt her bra pull down off her breasts, exposing the nipples to the harsh earth beneath her. She didn't stop, though, even though she whimpered in pain and humiliation through her gag at the earth tearing at her tender breasts. It hurt and was humiliating crawling across the ground like this, and she felt tears well up in her eyes.

It seemed an eternity before she reached him and looked up to stare into his bare feet. Her breasts, stomach and thighs, as well as her upper arms, were hyper sensitive, tenderized by the pebbles and dirt clods and twigs and leaves which rolled and pressed against her body as she squirmed across the ground. She was finished now, thank god, and rested her cheek against the ground, grateful for the cool earth against her face.

"Good Princess, good," she heard him say. "Now back up on your hands and knees and take out your gag." Thank you thank you, she thought, looking at him gratefully as she uncinched the ties behind her neck and gently removed the gag, her jaws feeling strange as they closed for the first time in a half hour. She massaged her jaws for a minute and looked at him and was going to speak, but he put his finger to his lips and quieted her.

"Now Princess, give me the gag. Good dog. No, don't adjust your bra, I like it so I can see your nipples. That's right. Hmm... I think I'll let you lick my feet now, Princess," and he smiled.

She looked at him, shocked now. She had been so relieved to be allowed to take out the gag that she hadn't even realized that he could now see her breasts. She wasn't surprised when he had demanded that she leave them exposed, but lick his feet? That was gross, disgusting. She shivered and half shook her head; she wouldn't do this.

He leaned forward and spoke to her, his voice hard: "Aren't you forgetting something, Amy? _You_ were the one who decided you needed to be punished; _you_ were the one who chose me to do it. You _will_ let me do it. Do you understand?"

She quailed inwardly at the tone in his voice: it was hard, commanding. Her face took on a scared, confused expression; she had chosen this as better than jail; she deserved this, she did, she really really did. Without a word she got back down on her hands and dragged her tongue across the bottom of his foot, tasting the stale sweat of his shoe and the musty dampness of the earth. She kept at it, running her tongue between his toes and around his ankles and against his arch.

Achilles was in heaven, his legs numb with ecstasy. The feeling of her tongue around his toes was sen- sational, and the view of her breasts, dangling now against the ground, was too much. He let her lick his feet for almost thirty minutes before he couldn't take it any longer. He stood up quickly, panting with the effort of denying himself her body, and rummaged around in the bag before taking out a bottle of water, which he handed to her after telling her to get up. He had to take out his pent up sexual energy somehow, and looking down at the riding crop still in his hand, figured he knew just how.

Amy eagerly sucked down the water he gave her, gratefully washing the taste of his feet off her tongue. She looked at him, wondering what he was going to do next, dreading it, when she saw him gazing strangely at the riding crop in his hand. He looked up at her, meeting her light blue eyes with his, and said, "Up against the tree."

She hesitated, then obeyed him, her back against the tree and her breasts standing proudly before her, still partly supported by the bra rolled up underneath them, her legs apart for balance.

"Have you been a bad girl, Princess?" he asked, running the crop gently across her nipples, making them swell with blood and sending her heart racing and her breath come quicker.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I've been a bad girl." He kept brushing the crop against her now ultra-sensitive nipples, engorged with blood, making her shake with forbidden pleasure. It felt _so_ good she thought; she never knew her breasts could feel so good. All the little indenta- tions from the dirt, all the pain from squirming over the ground seemed to be absorbed into the incredible pleasure engulfing her breasts. She couldn't let him see, couldn't let him know what he was doing to her. It was bad enough as it was, but how humiliating if he discovered how she was reacting.

"Close your eyes," he commanded, taking away the crop. She closed her eyes, trembling from the reaction of her body to its caresses, trying to bring herself under control.

Suddenly she heard a whistling sound and a thin *thwack* and pain exploded across her right nipple and she screamed, her eyes popping open and her hands going up to protect herself, her knees bending and her body twisting away from him. Her breast was on fire with pain as great as the pleasure it had just felt -- it felt like it was burning, and blood pounded painfully across the red slash on her breast and nipple, increas- ing the agony.

He just stood there, the crop in his hand, as if he had done nothing. She was scared and in pain. The way he looked at her, like she was just an animal, an animal to be punished for doing something bad. "Bad girls have to be punished," he said. "Present your other breast for punishment."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing, but his tone, his stance, his attitude of complete assurance, of command, forced her to obey. Besides, her mind told her, it's what you deserve. You felt pleasure in your punishment, its only right you feel pain now. She straightened back up against the tree and brought her hands down. She closed her eyes; she knew what to expect.

Achilles looked at her, impressed. He wasn't sure if she would accept another stroke of the crop, and her poise surprised him. He took a moment to gaze at her breasts before he struck, noticing how they were a little larger than Sara's, and more conical, but just as firm, if not firmer. The nipples on both were still hard, even the one with a red mark through it and across the breast. He brought his arm back and slashed the crop against her other breast, making sure to hit the nipple, and listened to her as she choked back a cry.

Pain flashed through her again, but she was determined not to cry out, and strangled back the cry which sought to escape her lips. She was gasping now, leaning back against the tree, her mind totally con- centrated on the pain in her breasts. Slowly she rub- bed them, gritting her teeth as she massaged the burning pain into a dull, throbbing ache concentrated in her still hard nipples. She looked up at Achilles, pleading with her eyes for him to be finished, for him to let her go. He only stared mercilessly back at her and told her to turn around and hug the tree tight.

"Hug it! Tighter. Now hug it with your knees. You're not close enough to it. That's better, much better."

She was gripping the tree as if she were going to shimmy up it, her arms two thirds of the way around the trunk. Her torso was smashed against the rough bark, which further tormented her nipples and breasts, and scraped her stomach as she flexed her muscles to keep close to the tree. Her inner thighs were also scratched up by the bark of the tree, and her skin prickled at tiny splinters and edges in the bark. For the first time she saw how she must look, with her cheek pressed up against the trunk: she looked as if she were trying to fuck the tree. With that thought, her face turned crimson and she became conscious of her mound pressing through her panties against the hard wood. It was so obscene what she was doing, with her breasts free and throbbing. What was he doing to her.

She cried out in pain and jerked her hips into the tree as he brought the crop against her covered ass. She moaned at the sensations sparking from her groin as it ground itself against the rough bark of the tree. Again he struck her ass, causing her hips to jerk con- vulsively forward, sending more sparks of pleasure coursing up from her vagina. She didn't know, didn't understand, what was happening to her. Her ass was on flame with the pain of his whipping, but the blinding flashes of pleasure blasting from her vagina each time her hips jerked against the tree were like nothing she had ever felt before. As he kept striking he, the pain and pleasure both built up, spreading first to her breasts as she squirmed against the tree, scraping them violently against the rough bark. The tree became a brutal lover as he brought the crop against her ass again and again, scraping roughly against her inner thighs and leg, bruising her mound and tearing at her breasts and stomach. It was all too much for her, she was swirling in a fog of incredible sensations. She no longer felt the crop against her ass, she only felt the rough bark against her body as she ground mindlessly against it, sparks going off before her eyes as sen- sations she had never felt before assaulted her whole body. More sparks and a blinding white flash lit up her vision as she body tensed and she screamed at the breaking tension which poured wave after wave of fire through every nerve in her body. She bucked and shook and spasmed against the tree, engulfed in a world of her own pleasure, before she slowly slid down to the ground and lay, limbs akimbo, half conscious, on the ground.

Achilles watched her growing orgasm with satis- faction and lust, and felt victory as she came violent- ly against the tree. She was his now. He wasn't going to fuck her now -- it was too soon. Let her think about how she had reacted, how she had come for the first time in her life in this orange grove, how he had made her shake violently in orgasm. Silently he handed her her dress and said, "I want to see you tomorrow in my room at 4:00. Don't be late," before walking off to the school, hoping he wasn't to late to catch the last bit of Sara's torture. He needed a good fuck right about now.

Part 9

Amy lay on the ground panting for breath, her mind slowly regaining control over her body. She felt drained; she stood up on wobbly knees and, leaning back against the tree, put on her dress. It was all she could do to make her body obey her commands; she pushed the thoughts of what she had done, what Achilles had seen her do, to the back of her mind: she couldn't deal with it right now. She stood there for some time while her wits and her equilibrium came back to her, and then began walking home, her mind purposefully numb.

As she walked, the cool evening air brushed gently against her, cooling her sweating body and forcing her mind to the damp spot between her legs. She stumbled and closed her eyes tight, a moan escaping her lips; she couldn't have done that, she just couldn't have! She stopped, her mind working furiously: for the first time in her life she had had an orgasm -- okay. It had been fireworks and earthshaking and bombs bursting; she could accept that, that was okay, but how and where her body had finally brought her that pleasure she couldn't accept, and her mind turned in shame from it.

She started walking again, faster and faster until she was almost running. She had been stripped, collar- ed, and gagged. She had been ogled, leashed, and forced to lick someone's feet. Finally, she had been beaten like a horse while she straddled a tree. How could that have turned her on?! How?! She knew, though, deep down she knew as she ran home as fast as her legs could take her, that it had. She knew that her lust had grown with each degrading act she was forced to perform, knew that her punishment, only right and fitting, had released something inside her, some ves- tige of control or desire for control, and freed a part of her that wanted, that lusted, to be degraded and humiliated and most importantly, controlled. She choked back tears as she ran up to her room and threw herself on her bed; it was too much, too much all at once.

Achilles hustled down to the boiler room, using the keys Jim had given him, and was disappointed to find no one there. Oh well, he thought, there was always tomorrow.

Thursday Jim noticed that Amy didn't show up to class, but Maria was back to her normal biting self, meaner than ever if that was possible. The day before she had even stopped by and made several requests for certain items, the better to torture her teacher with. He thought about Amy and Achilles again, and thought that that boy didn't look like much, but he certainly had a certain something. Sara was coming along real well too: she got off on everything he did to her, no matter how painful and humiliating. He was hoping Achilles could get Amy to fall in line soon, since he would love to tear off a piece of that cunt too. Amy and Sara and Maria all together: those were the stuff of dreams.

Amy knew better than to play sick with Achilles, even if it worked with her parents. She didn't know what he had planned, but she dreaded it with a passion, and at the same time some bizarre quirk in her, some small part in her mind, anticipated it, wanted it. She was everything bad, this small part of her self told her: she was a murderess, a bigot, swollen with pride; not only that, but also a slut, a horny cunt who came whenever some man beat her. It was only a small part of her mind which told her these things, but it got louder and louder as she approached Achilles' house.

She arrived and was met at the door by Achilles, who immediately led her up to his room and locked the door. He kept her standing as he sat down on his bed and looked her over; she shuddered under his gaze, remembering the last time he had seen her.

"That was quite a show you put on yesterday," his voice startled her so that she jumped a little. He frowned, "That's bad. I'm supposed to punish you, not bring you off." She blushed at his remarks, her pale skin turning a dark crimson as shame washed through her. She remained silent.

"Well, we can't have you enjoying your punishment, can we? Can we!" he shouted.

"N... n... no," she stuttered, her head down, her arms straight and crossed before her.

He leaned back, "So tell me, what part of your punishment did you enjoy?"

She looked at him for the first time since she had arrived, anger and desperation suffusing her body, "None!" she shouted, "I hated it all; it was horrible, just horrible," she finished, her emotion subsiding to an almost pleading desire for belief.

Achilles smiled mockingly, "Well, for someone who hated every moment of what happened to her, you gave a good impression of fucking a tree to orgasm." Then he noticed that she was crying silently, standing before him dressed in a summer dress and looking so much like a little girl. Standing, he went over to her and reached under her chin, lifting her face up until he was looking directly into her eyes.

"You did hate it, didn't you," he said softly.

"Y... yes," was whispered.

"But you came too; I know you did."

"Yes."

"You hated coming; you hated feeling like that. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yes."

"Why?" A simple question.

Sobbing silently now, she broke away from him and sat down hard onto the floor. "I'm so bad," she choked out. "I... I deserved everything you did to me. It felt so good. It's evil. Horrible. I... I'm no good... for anything... like a whore. I don't wanna be who I am." She started sobbing for real now, her face buried in her hands.

Achilles watched her for a moment, pity warring with elation in his mind. He was surprised at how quickly she had broken, but then again he had been surprised that she had orgasmed the other day. Now was the time to build her back up, to build her back up into the person he wanted her to be. Careful, he thought to himself, careful or the old personality will reassert itself. I must incorporate that personality, he thought, must allow it free reign somewhere. Think- ing furiously, he knelt down beside her and held her, soothing her the same way he would a small child, cooing to her "my little princess" over and over again.

When her sobbing had abated somewhat he lifted her chin again until he looking into her big, beautiful blue eyes, glistening with tears, and spoke to her in short, comforting sentences, telling her she didn't have to be bad, telling her he could help her, that he loved her and wanted what was best for her. The problem he suggested, watching carefully for her reactions, was that she had no structure in her life; he could change that. She would have to trust him. He would take everything bad about her, her pride, her lust, her fear, and wall it away from her, keep her safe from it. Only he would have to see her like that, and he would control her then, if she only let him. He could handle it; only trust him. Trust him.

He talked for over an hour like that to her, calm and reassuring. He was right, she knew: she couldn't trust herself anymore; she could trust him, though: he loved her. To be like she was, calm, confident, sure of herself -- how she wished she could be like that again. She could, he was telling her. She could be her old self, without all that had corrupted her, made her filth. She was two different people, she understood, Amy Sanders -- the good, strong, woman who was going to college and was going to be a success -- and someone else, someone who associated with murders and covered up her crimes and was swollen with pride and arrogance and was a slut who couldn't control her own body. She understood what he was saying: to the outside world she could be Amy Sanders, but to him she would release the dark side of herself so that it couldn't get out and contaminate her, and he would punish that dark side of her. Yes, she wanted that; she did, she really really did.

"Do it," she said, "help me."

Hearing the magic words, Achilles stood up and walked in front of his bed and said, "Stand up. You understand what you have to do, Amy? I will be like your confessor: everything bad that you do or think I will punish, every twinge of lust I will expiate, but you must bring them all to me. You must not hide them away like you did before or they will destroy you like they almost did before. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she said, relief at this release of her burden invigorating her, and she felt a surge of happiness for the first time in days.

"Okay then, in order to do this correctly, we have to make some rules, yes?"

"Yes."

"You have to obey everything I tell you to do without question. Understand?"

"Yes."

"And when you're with me your name will be Princess. Tell me your name."

"Princess."

"You will call me master at all times. Now, what is your name."

"Princess, master."

"That's enough for now; let's begin."

"Yes master."

His cock was already as hard as a rock as he walked slowly around her like a disapproving drill sergeant. Amy Sanders was finally and truly his! All his to do whatever he wanted to, and he knew what he was going to do to her today -- thank god his parents were out of the house until seven tonight.

Amy's heart fluttered as Achilles walked around her, looking her up and down. She felt freed in some bizarre way; now she didn't have to be in control. Later she would be, but now all she had to do was what- ever Achilles, her master, told her too. It was liberating, because she no longer had to be afraid of what she would do -- her master would take care of it. It would all come out, she knew, her uncontrollable id which so recently had taken over her life, would come out to be punished and mastered, and then to retreat so that she could live a normal life until she needed her master to tame it again, to tame her, to tame Princess. He would let Princess out and keep her away from her, Amy Sanders. No, she thought, I am Princess, and she felt a tingling in her groin at the thought, and she squeezed her thighs together. I'm bad, she thought, I'm bad and need to be punished. Punish me, master, punish Princess she thought.

He came back around until his face was inches from her, and he barked out, "Strip." Her gaze locked by his, she did what he commanded, baring her young, firm, nubile body to him. He stepped back and looked at her, at her strong nose dominating her face, her kinky blond hair falling past her shoulders, her firm, perky breasts with their perfectly proportioned nipples, her slender waist and almost skinny but perfectly formed legs, her blond curling pubic hairs and her dull, thin lips. All his, he thought, feeling his cock throb in his pants.

"I saw you fuck that tree yesterday, Princess, you slut," he growled out. "I've never seen anyone fuck a tree before. Did you like it Princess? Did you like fucking that tree."

"Yes master."

"You know what that make you, don't you cunt? It makes you a fucking worthless slut!"

"Yes master," she said with her chin trembling.

"Say it!"

"I'm a fucking worthless slut, master."

"Spread your legs, Princess."

She obeyed him, feeling dirty and slutty and worthless, spreading her legs until she was standing with her feet three feet apart. It made her feel exposed, standing naked before him with her legs spread like this, but that excited her, excited Princess. Amy Sanders would never do this, she thought, Amy is such a good girl. She trembled inside with pleasure. She felt his hands, her master's hands, against her shoulders as he gripped them firmly, sending an electric thrill through her body. She felt her vaginal -- her cunt -- lips begin to swell and moisture begin to form between her legs. He was making Princess hot, staring into her eyes and holding her by the shoulders and she almost whimpered in desire as she stood there. She was so bad.

She felt his hands jerk her toward him an instant before blinding pain flashed through her groin as his knee jerked viciously into her cunt. She doubled over, all feelings of sexual excitement fleeing, and dropped her hands to protect her throbbing sex.

Still holding onto her shoulders, she heard her master say, "You deserved that, didn't you, you dirty cunt?"

"Y... yes master," she whined, pain taking her breath away. And she knew that she did deserve it. All dirty sluts deserved to be treated like the pieces of meat they were, and they shouldn't forget it.

His hands forced her to her knees and she landed with a thump, her groin still in agony over his un- expected blow. "My little Princess wanted to be fucked, just like the slut she is, but I don't think you deserve to be fucked, do you slut?"

"No master." The pain was finally abating some- what, although her whole groin throbbed as if bruised. She groaned as she straightened up onto her knees and saw that her master was removing his clothes. She watched in fascination as he undressed: he didn't look like much, she thought, until he removed his underwear, when she saw the largest cock she had ever seen.

Achilles smiled when he saw her eyes widen at the sight of his penis. "Do you want to touch my cock, Princess?"

She was fascinated by it; Amy Sanders had never seen a penis that size: it was at least two inches longer and an inch thicker than any penis Amy had seen. Princess licked her lips -- poor Amy, she wasn't going to get any of her master's cock. "Yes master," she said, not taking her eyes off his cock, "Princess wants to touch your cock."

"Does Princess want to suck my cock?"

She was taken aback for a second; it was so large, and she had never done it before -- at least Amy hadn't. But Amy wasn't a filthy whore like Princess was, and Princess found herself salivating at the chance to put that enormous cock in her mouth. "Yes master," she hissed, "let me suck your cock."

"Crawl over here and beg," he said sitting down onto the edge of the bed.

She crawled over between his legs, her breasts swinging heavily beneath her, her groin throbbing now more with excitement than pain. "Please master, let me suck your beautiful cock. I want it so bad. Princess is a worthless dirty slut and wants her master's cock in her mouth. Please master, let me suck your cock."

His wildest fantasies had come true: here was Amy Sanders, on her hands and knees, naked, and begging to blow him. He grabbed her head and forced it against his cock, sighing in pleasure as she wrapped her lips around his dick and began to suck him.

He felt so large in her mouth, she thought as she sucked his cock into the warm, wet confines of her oral cavity -- salty, too. It felt good, too, to be on her knees with her master's cock in her mouth; a slut like her should have a cock in her mouth at all times. As she sucked, gripping the shaft, she thought of it in her cunt, reaming her out, stretching her wide, and she felt a thin trail of moisture drip down the inside of her thigh. She squeezed her thighs together, pleasure beginning to consume her body, and thought of even fouler pleasures: what if he put his cock in her ass? A slut like her, like Princess, would love a big cock in her ass. She gasped out around the prick in her mouth as a small orgasm blossomed in her cunt. Amy Sanders would never get fucked in the ass.

Achilles sat back and enjoyed every minute of the blow job he was getting from his dream girl. He moaned as she sucked her cheeks in to massage his dick as she bobbed her head up and down while running her hand along his shaft and down to his balls. Her tongue scraped along the bottom of his cock, the tip occasionally teasing her vein just under the circum- cised head. He would have to teach her to deep throat, he thought as he felt the pressure begin to build up in his balls, but for now she's doing fine. It was even better that she was getting into it so much; he could have sworn she had had an orgasm just a minute ago.

She felt his cock begin to expand and his hands grip the back of her head, forcing more of his dick into her mouth. He was going to come, Princess thought he was going to shoot his come into her mouth -- she trembled in pleasure, sucking harder and running her fingers under his balls to press hard against the soft flesh there.

Achilles bellowed as he felt her fingers press against the soft skin between his anus and his balls, and he shot wad after wad of come into her willing, sucking mouth, gasping in pleasure as she continued to work his sensitive knob.

Princess felt his come splatter against her throat and she swallowed greedily, sucking down each blast of his come and luxuriating in the feel if it sliding slickly down her throat. She was such a slut, such a whore, she thought, to be doing this, and felt another small orgasm shake her as she squeezed her thighs together once more. She kept sucking on his cock until he became flaccid and pushed her head away. She looked up at him expectantly: she was a good slut, wasn't she?

Achilles looked in amazement down at the doglike expectancy on Amy's face as she gazed up at him, her mouth slightly open in what was unmistakably excitement. He had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams with her. "You've been a good bitch, you have," he said, patting her on the head. "You deserve a reward. Get up on the bed."

She eagerly obeyed and laid on her side watching him as he went over to his closet and took down a large box, rummaged through it, and pulled out a large dildo -- it was even larger than his cock, she saw, amazed. It must have been twelve inches long and two thick, she thought, growing excited at the mere thought of taking that up her twat.

"Here you go, Princess, play with this while I take some pictures." She grabbed it eagerly as it landed on the bed and rolled onto her back, spreading her legs and running the enormous dildo against her swollen labia, moaning and gasping in pleasure as she teased herself to further arousal.

Achilles pulled out his camera and began taking pictures -- he didn't want to forget this, his first night with Amy Sanders. Besides, she was so sexy like that, in the throws of passion.

Princess could hear the sound of her master's camera as she spread her labia with one hand and eased the monster dildo in with the other, but it just excited her more; she was going to be on film; he could show any of his friends how nasty and sluttish she was. Yes, she thought as she slid the dildo into her gaping cunt until it bumped against her cervix, leaving a full three inches outside her snatch. She moved her free hand and began playing with her clit as she slowly worked the dildo around in her cunt, pleasure assault- ing every nerve in her body. She began to writhe and moan as the sensations built, punctuated each time she slammed the dildo hard against her cervix, sending pleasure cascading up her spine. She could feel a tremendous orgasm build within her guts, and she mashed down on her clitoris, trying to bring it now, now -- so close.

Rough hands grabbed the dildo from her and ripped it from her cunt and knocked her other hand away from her clitoris. Her body jackknifed up in unfulfilled lust and she screamed "NOOOO!!!" trying to bring her hands back to her clitoris, trying to achieve the most incredible orgasm she had ever had which was just a touch away. A sharp slap shocked her out of her sexual frenzy as her head was knocked back onto the bed and to one side, stunning her and sending her orgasm fleeing. She moaned in sexual torment, wanting, needing, any release now. Another slap knocked her completely back to her senses -- god, she was so hot, needed it so badly, but now she was looking into the eyes of her angry master, partially obscured by her kinky blond hair which had flown wildly about her head.

"What did you say to me cunt?" he growled angrily, leaning over her and holding her down on the bed by her shoulders.

"P... please... master..."

"What did you say to me?" He made his voice even angrier.

"...no... master."

"YOU DON'T EVER SPEAK BACK TO ME AGAIN, YOU STUPID CUNT!" he screamed, jerking her off the bed by her head and dragging her to the foot of it.

"Please master, please," she begged, scared now as he threw her onto her knees so that she was bent over the end of the bed, her ass in the air. He placed one hand against her neck, forcing her head into the mattress, and grabbed a large paddle with the other.

WHACK! She screamed as he brought the paddle down as hard as he could against the back of he thighs.

WHACK! She screamed again as the paddle struck her ass cheeks with tremendous force.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Again and again he brought the paddle down against her ass and her thighs until they were a deep red from the beating and she was sobbing into the mattress. He released her for a minute and returned, spreading her asscheeks, bringing a loud sob from her throat.

She was miserable; her ass and thighs were a mass of fiery, throbbing pain. She should never had talked back to her master, but she had been so close, so close and he had taken it away from her. She still felt, even after the beating, and aching emptiness in her cunt, a yearning for an orgasm. What was he doing? She felt a coolness around her anus as he smeared grease over her sphincter. He was going to fuck her in the ass! The thought drove some of the pain away. He beat her and then he was going to shove his fat cock up her ass -- it was so perverse, so dirty, so nasty, she felt her cunt twitch and the pain in her ass and thighs burn hotter.

She felt the head of his cock press against her anus as his fingers roughly dug into her throbbing asscheeks. It felt like she was taking the biggest shit of her life, but it didn't hurt thanks to the copious amount of grease he had used. She felt it slide slowly in, every single inch, filling up her guts until she thought she was going to explode. It felt so strange having a cock up her ass, so filling.

Achilles grunted as he popped his cock through her tiny brown sphincter, watching intently as he slid it slowly into her guts. Damn she had a tight ass, he thought, as he bottomed out, his hips pressing against her spread ass cheeks. He leaned over her until he could whisper in her ear, and began whispering that she loved having a cock in her ass, what a slut, what a whore, that she was no better than a piece of fucking meat to take his cock wherever he wanted to put it, that she was a worthless slut to get off on this, and more. He slowly pulled his hips back until only the head of his cock was still in her ass, and then pounded forward.

The things he was whispering to her, oh god, she thought, sliding her hand down to her clitoris and mashing it between her fingers; it was so hot, so good. Her mouth opened into an O of surprise and pleasure as she felt his cock slowly slide out from her ass, feel- ing like it was dragging her guts with it. It felt so strangely good. She imagined Amy getting used like she was, and that excited her more: goody-two-shoes Amy getting beaten and fucked like some piece of meat -- she grunted in passion.

Achilles slammed his cock in and out of Amy's tiny asshole, reveling in the sensations assaulting his penis. It was so tight and clinging, and he was still turned on from his paddling of her. God, he thought, Amy Sanders, letting me pound her ass then letting me fuck her up the bum, and loving every minute of it. He felt, deep in his groin, the beginning tingle of what he knew was going to be a tremendous orgasm.

Princess was practically out of her mind now. The twin pleasures, so different, from his cock in her ass and her fingers on her clit were driving her wild. She grunted in time with his viscous thrusts and drool spilled from her gaping mouth. Her whole body felt like it was on fire; even her breasts which were being rubbed achingly back and forth against the bed as her body jerked to her master's thrusts. She had begun trembling she didn't know when, the pleasure so over- whelming, but she drove her fingers harder against her clit, knowing that with a little more, just a little more, she could go even higher.

It started in her ass as her master drove his tool deep into her guts. It felt as if a cool wave of pleasure washed over her body, causing her to jerk convulsively and jam her nails hard into her clit, sending shooting sparks of pleasure flashing through her overworked nerves. She felt these two pleasures build into a crescendo, becoming more and more intense, making her body rigid in anticipation, then sending it into wildly jerking spasms as the most incredible orgasm literally burst through her ass and groin, sending her wailing and thrashing under her master.

Achilles felt her ass spasm around his cock and felt the pressure in his own groin reach a breaking point: any minute now, he thought, moaning at the intense pleasure. He grabbed onto her hair as he felt her body begin to jerk beneath him, and groaned as her ass began sucking at his cock. He held on for dear life, hands tight around her skull, cock buried to its limit in her ass, as her body became a bucking bronco beneath him and her as a sucking, grasping, greedy orifice, trying to devour him. His yell matched hers as his cock spat out its come deep into her bowels, filling her with his seed. He held on, overwhelmed with pleasure as her ass kept squeezing and milking his cock while her body trembled and jerked beneath him.

He lay on top of her for a full minute until her trembling subsided and he could work up enough energy to move. Slowly he pushed himself off of her and winced as his sensitive cock popped from her ass. "Okay Princess, get dressed and go home. I want to see you in the orange grove tomorrow, though. Don't disappoint me." With that, he staggered into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face.

Princess lay there, her senses reeling from her orgasm, and listened to what her master said. No, she thought dizzily, she wouldn't disappoint him. She got up and quickly dressed, giggling as she left her master's house: wouldn't Amy be pissed when she found that she'd have to clean up after her. All that yummy come leaking out of her asshole right now and running down the back of her thighs -- poor little Amy. She giggle again as she thought about it.

Part 10

Amy was pissed off when she got home: that bitch Princess hadn't even bothered to clean herself off before she came home. Now she would have to clean the cum from her asshole and wipe it away from her thighs; the taste in her mouth was nasty, too. Still, she thought, it was better than before, with Princess threatening to take over her life at any moment and destroy her. Now Princess would only come out when Achilles told her to; she was disgusted at the things Princess allowed Achilles to do to her -- how could she like that? -- but better her than me, she thought. She washed up, feeling good for the first time in weeks; the old Amy Sanders, the winner, was back.

Friday rolled around, and Maria couldn't concen- trate on anything. She had spent the last few days reading various bondage books and magazines and watch- ing bondage videos, trying to learn the best way to torture her bitch of a teacher, Ms. Sara Ellsworth. She had formulated a plan which, she thought, would give her the most satisfaction and her teacher the most pain. All she could do, all day, was imagine what it would be like, punishing Ms. Ellsworth until she screamed.

Jim spent part of the day down in the boiler room of the school preparing things for Maria and Sara. It took a while to get everything in place, but he wanted everything to be perfect. He had told Maria that Sara was all hers to use today, neither he nor Achilles would interfere. Still, he thought, if what Achilles had told him this morning was true, he wouldn't have to go without pussy while he watched Sara get hers. He smiled as he thought about it and rubbed his cock through his jeans; if Achilles had really managed to turn Amy into a piece of fuck meat he was prepared to be impressed. Besides, he had always wanted to ream out that cold bitch of a teenager.

Princess met Achilles in the orange grove after school as he commanded her to, wearing a short skirt and blouse, and was surprised when he led her immedi- ately back toward the school from the rear. She was even more surprised when he led her down into the bowels of the school, using a key ring of keys to let him past several locked doors. Nothing, though, pre- pared her for what she saw when Achilles led her into the boiler room, dodging overhead pipes until they made it into a clear area. Before her eyes, she saw one of her teachers, Ms. Ellsworth, standing naked, spread-eagled with her arms chained to overhead pipes and her legs chained to eye-hooks screwed into the concrete floor. Two cameras, one facing her from the front from an angle, and the other from the back at the same angle, stood on tripods focused on her and the janitor, a big black man, who was running his hands all over her nude body.

Sara's eyes widened in surprise as she saw, who was it, Amy, Amy Sanders, follow Achilles into the boiler room. Oh God, she thought, not another one, but she also grew more excited. She had known that today was not going to be the standard torture and fuck day, since she had been tied there for at least half of an hour and Jim still hadn't fucked her, hadn't even hurt her. All he did was run his hands gently over her body and rub his own prick through his pants, driving her wild with desire. She could barely move, though, chained as she was. Another girl, though -- she had never had another girl; the thought turned her on as she watched Amy stare at her in surprise. Such a beautiful young woman, Sara thought, thinking of what Jim might have planned for her, for them, and growing more and more excited.

Princess gasped and looked at Achilles, who seemed completely unperturbed. "I've brought you here," he said placidly, "for two reasons. First, to show you what will happen to you if you ever disobey me. Second, since Jim and I may or may not be using Sara today and her punishment is sure to turn us on, you're here for both of us to use. Do you understand?"

"Yes master," she said, and she did understand. Her master was going to share his little slut Princess with his big black friend: she trembled inside as she thought of it. To watch that woman's debasement -- she admired her trim, firm body with its luscious curves -- while being used by someone she didn't even know: she shuddered in excitement, feeling her cunt grow moist and tingly.

"Why don't you go and beg Jim to give him a blow- job? I'll go and get the show started." With that, he headed toward a remote, hidden corner of the room.

Princess licked her lips and, placing her hands behind her back, walked nervously over to Jim: he was huge, intimidating, the way he grinned down at her while he absently tweaked Sara's breast. She moved really close to him, feeling arousal rise in her sluttish body at the nearness of such a man, and looked up into his dark face. "Please master Jim, please let me suck your big, hard cock. Please fill my mouth with your hot come; let me taste every inch of your prick. Please," she whined one final time.

Looking down at this young white cunt begging to blow him, Jim was amazed: Achilles had done quite a job on her. "Well, little girl," he said, "take off all your clothes and kneel in front of that table over there," motioning to the side where he had set up a table for him and Achilles to watch the action. He smiled as she quickly disrobed and kneeled before the table. Giving Sara's tit one last slap, he slowly undressed and then headed over to see how well Achilles' bitch could suck dick.

Sara couldn't believe her ears: they may or may not fuck her?! What was going on? They bring in this slut -- she couldn't believe how Amy was acting -- and say they were only going to watch? Watch what? What was going to happen to her? She wanted to ask, but was afraid, afraid of being hit and afraid of the answer. For the first time since she had given into her passion for pain and degradation, she began to feel apprehen- sion.

Maria sat in the corner of the boiler room, fear, nervousness, and anticipation struggling within the pit of her stomach. She had put on her costume fifteen minutes ago and put all her torture devices in a small leather bag; now she was waiting, wondering whether she had the courage to go through with this. If she could just have the bitch alone, or even if she could just hurt the bitch normally, but Jim had insisted she do it his way, with certain liberties allowed her. She realized that Jim and the partner he had talked about would probably want to fuck her: could she go through with this? Then she thought about what Ms. Sara Ellsworth had done to her: she had had her raped by three boys. It had shattered her life; she could not forgive that.

It was pay back time, she thought, and a righteous anger filled her: what she was going to do to that fucking cunt... Anything was worth that, anything.

She was startled when Achilles stuck his head around the edge of a large boiler and told her it was time before dashing off to take his place in this little drama. She breathed in deeply and stood up on the three inch spike heels she was wearing, picked up her bag in one hand and a three foot, very flexible, reed switch in the other, and walked toward the center of the room.

The first thing she noticed when she stepped into sight of Sara, Achilles, and Jim, was the brightness of the room. Peripherally she saw Achilles standing naked behind one of two cameras set up in the room, pointing it at her, and she saw Jim, sitting on a low table to her right with his hand on the back of a naked blond girl's head getting a blowjob. These sights, though, were mere distractions to her; in the middle of the space, standing tied spread-eagled, was Ms. Sara Ellsworth, a look of shock and terror on her face as she saw and recognized Maria. An expression of pure hate twisted Maria's features as she squared her shoulders, set down her bag, and strolled meaningfully over to face her teacher.

Jim was sitting enjoying a pretty good blowjob from Achilles' slut, thinking that what she lacked in experience she sure made up for in enthusiasm, when he caught sight of Maria as she strode out of the shadows toward Sara. She was a vision of a bondage goddess, Jim thought, eyeing her with deep appreciation and lust. Her legs were encased up to mid thigh in high- heeled leather boots, making them seem even shapelier and longer than they already were and focusing atten- tion on pair of small, leather panties with barely covered her patch of pubic hair. Her upper thighs and firm stomach were creamy olive in color up to her belly button before the rest of her waist was cinched firmly in by a black bodice which lifted and squeezed her overfull breasts together and up, revealing the tops of her mounds almost down to her nipples.

Her face was the only thing which jarred with the image of a leather goddess in his mind: it was young, a fifteen year olds face thickly done up in harsh makeup. Dark red lipstick brought out the fullness of her mouth and lips; a base smoothed her already smooth skin; heavy black eyeliner and eyelash thickener made her dark eyes darker. Jim watched as she moved with the sureness of a tiger ready to pounce, feeling his balls contract and approach orgasm at the very sight of her.

Sara was stunned. Maria, Maria would kill her, she thought. She was terrified of Maria; Maria had reason to hate her, to hurt her. She glanced wildly over at Jim, who only smiled cruelly, and then at Achilles, who was hidden behind a camera. Oh god, she thought, don't let this happen, as she tried to cower away from the girl she had had raped and broke out in a sweat.

Maria saw the fear in Sara's eyes and a feeling of absolute power welded to joy flowed through her. All hers, she thought, this bitch was all hers.

"Please," Sara whimpered softly, begging for Maria not to do what she knew Maria was going to do.

"SHUT UP!" Maria yelled viciously, bringing the switch down blazingly fast and hard against the outside of Sara's left breast. Sara bit her lip and cried out inwardly, barely suppressing a shout of pain as agony ripped through her.

"SHUT UP!" Maria yelled again, a fury overtaking her as the pent up tension of her wait, and her hatred of this woman broke forth, spilling over into a rapid series of blows across Sara's tits with the switch.

<WHACK> <WHACK> <WHACK> <WHACK> <WHACK> went the switch as it landed again and again against Sara's breasts. She clenched her teeth as pain coursed through her, each blow feeling like it was tearing a piece of flesh from her breast. She finally screamed when Maria struck her across the nipple, pain exploding across her chest and darkening her mind as she trembled and shook against her bonds. "AAAAHHHHHHGGGGG!" she cried, "Please stop! Stop! AAAAAAAAAAA!" as the beat- ing seemed to go on forever. Finally Maria stopped, panting in released rage, and Sara hung limply against her arms for a moment, the burning pain in her breasts seeming to spread across her entire torso. She moaned as it reached her groin and she felt herself grow moist: even this? she thought to herself, trying to regain her footing.

Princess was happily sucking on Jim's large black cock, not as large as her master's, she thought pride- fully, thinking about how debased she was. It excited her to think that here she was, an upper middle class white girl was on her knees servicing a big black stud like Jim -- and he was a janitor! Her master knew what he was doing when he brought her here; she needed to be treated like this, like some common whore. She heard the clacking of heels on concrete and wanted to turn her head, but Jim's hand was in her hair and his cock was in her mouth so she couldn't look. Still, she felt Jim's excitement and clenched her thighs together, feeling her juices begin to drip sluggishly down her inner thighs, with the thought that soon he would fill her mouth with come. She started when she heard shout- ing and the viscous whacking sound of flesh being struck followed by screams of pain, but turned her attention more eagerly toward teasing the come from the cock in her mouth, for she felt his cock begin to expand slightly in her mouth and his hand tighten on the back of her head. Suddenly he groaned and large wads of his come splattered against the back of her mouth, and she swallowed eagerly, luxuriating in the feel of his come sliding slickly down her throat. She squeezed her legs together and felt the small bloom of an orgasm rush through her body; it was so good, so good to be doing this, to be treated like this.

Maria panted with exertion as Sara struggled to regain her feet. She lowered the switch and, turning, put it on the ground next to her leather bag. Opening the bag, she pulled out a two foot long gleaming stain- less steel needle, sharp on both ends, which she held in the palms of both hands as she showed it to Sara. She felt incredible: adrenaline was coursing through her body, giving her an incredible rush and exciting her beyond belief. She never would have thought that hurting another person would give her such pleasure, but hurting Sara Ellsworth certainly did.

"Do you know what I'm going to do with this, Sara?" she asked silkily, holding the long needle before her eyes.

Sara could imagine a thousand things Maria might do, so she begged, pleaded, "Please, please don't hurt me anymore," all the while feeling the pain in her breasts turn into an erotic throbbing which made her cunt run even more freely with its juices. She was scared and in pain at the same time, and it was, she admitted in the back of her head, and incredible turn on; but she didn't want any more pain, certainly not the type of pain she knew Maria had in store for her.

She grimaced and gasped in pain as Maria gripped her left nipple between her fingernails and pulled it away from her body, stretching it into a small, dark red cone. She felt her blood pound through her abused nipple and screamed "NOOOO! NOOOO! OH GOD NOOOO! DON'T! PLEASE!" as she saw Maria bring the tip of the long needle against the outside of her breast. Her screams turned into shrieks of pure agony as Maria slowly pressed the needle into her distended nipple, piercing the flesh as she inexorably drove the needle into her teachers nipple.

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE!" Sara screamed as she felt the needle tear through the tender flesh of her nipple and, dragging the ripped flesh around its puncture with it, tear out the other side, completely piercing the small red bud topping her breast. She quivered and shook and tried to pull her breast away from this torture, but Maria held her tight between her fingernails, drawing even more blood from the very tip of her nipple as they dug painfully into the nib of Sara's nipple. The agony was excruciating, narrowing her consciousness down to that one small, tortured point on her body as she screamed her throat raw. Finally the pain abated somewhat, dulling to a sharp throbbing which drew ragged cried from her throat at each beat of her pounding heart.

Maria released her teacher's nipple and looked with pleasure upon her accomplishment: the needle neatly pierced Sara's nipple, two thin streams of blood running down either side of her breast to join at its base before drying just before reaching her naval. The very tip of the nipple, where she had gripped it be- tween her fingernails, was suitably bruised and swollen with blood and fluid oozing out through the torn flesh. She reveled in the small cries of pain her teacher made and looked up into her eyes, smiling as she saw the agony and dismay etched deeply on Sara's face.

"I'm not done yet," she said cruelly, still hold- ing the needle with her fingers, earning a look of complete terror from Ms. Ellsworth.

Achilles was excited beyond belief as he watched Maria sadistically pierce her teacher's nipple and heard the screams of inhuman agony torn from her throat; he was getting it all on tape, too, which made it even better. He eagerly made his way over to were both Jim and Princess, Jim still sitting on the table and his cock slowly beginning to resuscitate and Princess still kneeling on the ground beside Jim's leg, were both entranced with the theater going on in front of them. He quickly grabbed Princess by the hair and commanded her to stand up and grab her ankles, where- upon he grabbed her hips and quickly thrust into her sopping cunt, sighing at the feel of the soft folds of skin engulfing his prick.

Princess was once again denied the sight of the woman's torture, but the cock in her cunt assuaged that disappointment. The scene before her had been so horrible, so twistedly erotic, that it had driven her to another orgasm before her master had demanded use of her cunt. She heard the woman's screams resume and knew that the girl was driving the spike through her other nipple, the sounds of the woman's sexual agony bringing her even closer to orgasm as her master's cock pounded her furiously from behind, almost knocking her over with each thrust, only holding her up with the firm grip his hands had on her hips.

Maria stepped back and viewed her handiwork, her cunt moist and slick from her exertions. Both Sara's nipples were pierced through with the single, long needle, the weight of which dragged both her breasts down slightly. Two thin trails of blood, coming from each of her nipples, had dried against her skin just before reaching her belly button. The bitch herself was quivering in pain as she tried to maintain her balance, low moans of agony coming from her throat each time her shaking body made her breasts swing even a little bit.

Turning back to her bag, Maria pulled out a thin cord and tied it tight to the center of the needle, between Sara's breasts, and, feeding out line, walked about ten feet away draped the other end of the cord over a pipe about head high. Slowly she pulled the cord tight, earning a long, drawn out moan from her teacher, until the bitch's breasts were distended into fleshy cones, the point of piercing of each nipple beginning to bleed again under the tension of the rope. Maria pulled it a little tighter then quickly tied it off.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA," Sara moaned as she felt her breasts stretched into fleshy cones of meat; it felt like her nipples were going to be ripped off by the pressure. The agony of the torture of her breasts had spread throughout her body, which was tense and sweating with strain, making her cunt burn with need. She couldn't help it; the worse the pain became, the more her pussy demanded released, and now it was burn- ing with a need more torturous than the piercing of her nipples, her juice slicking the insides of her thighs and dripping off from the sides of her knees to form a small puddle on the ground between her legs.

"Please, please touch me," she begged as Maria returned carrying a curious black box with a dial connected to three long wires ending in small clamps.

"Oh, the whore wants to come?" Maria spat sarcas- tically, turning to her audience. "Do you think this cunt deserves that pleasure? Well I don't." It was better than she imagined; she had thought she only wanted to torture the bitch, but making her beg for sex while she inflicted torture after torture upon her was even better. She felt a thrill of excitement as she clipped one of the clamps to the end of the needle through Sara's nipples and another clamp through the other end. The third clamp she held up before the bitch's eyes and smiled before kneeling down right in front of her gaping, dripping pussy. Placing her fingers just on the outside of the front of her snatch, Maria pulled her labia apart, exposing Sara's clit, glistening with lubrication. She quickly snapped the clip onto her teacher's clit and received a satis- factory shuddering in response.

Oh god, Sara thought as the clamp closed tightly over her clit, sending more shooting pain through her body, it had almost brought her off. A little more and she would have come: how she needed to come! She hung her head and strained against her chains, trying to bring herself off, but it was no use. She looked up and saw Maria standing before her holding four stick pins, having set the black box down on the ground in front of her. She saw her tormentor kneel down and suddenly turn the dial on the box, and she immediately felt its results. It felt like a thousand tiny mules were kick- ing her nipples, breasts, clit, and cunt as the elec- tricity flowed into her body. It thrummed through her sex and breasts, slowly increasing as Maria turned the dial. Her whole body tensed to the pounding of the current and the throbbing of her blood in her ears. She closed her eyes as the current transformed all the pain in her body, turning it an agonizingly heightened sensation coursing across her nerves.

She screamed as a sharp, tearing pain hit her breast, looking to see Maria driving one of her pins down into the flesh of her breast. Again the pain in her breast as Maria drove another pin into her; and again with her other breast. Now her vision was fading into and out of black as the sensations engulfing her body overwhelmed her: they were not pain and they were not pleasure, just an unbearable screaming of tortured nerves. Her whole body shook under the barrage of electricity, her legs and stomach tense. The fourth pin entered her breast near the nipple, and she screamed, not hearing her own voice, as she finally lost control of her bladder, her warm urine splattering on the floor and sprinkling her feet, ankles, and calves. Far away, she felt hands on her shoulders -- she was floating in an agony of sensation -- and she felt a deep thumping at her pelvis as Maria kneed her in the groin. <Thump> <Thump> <Thump> the knee pounded her sex, and she shrieked like a lost soul as a hot, blistering wind swept through her tormented body, originating from her cunt and coursing across the raw nerves of her body, sending her thrashing against her bonds in an orgasm of pain. She shrieked and shrieked, completely engulfed by this unbearable sensation which was both agony and ecstasy, before darkness clouded her vision and she fell heavily against her bonds, hanging from her arms in oblivion.

Part 11

Princess watched on her hands and knees with Jim's fat cock reaming out her asshole as Sara shrieked in what was either incredible agony or incredible ecstasy and collapsed into unconsciousness. She felt the cock in her ass throb and fill her bowels with warm seed, setting off a shuddering orgasm of her own. This whole afternoon had been so obscene, she thought, and looked up again to see the girl, Maria, rub herself through her leather panties. She came again as she superimposed the image of Amy over the woman hanging in chains before this wanton teenager. It was all too good to be true, too sexy, to erotic, to pleasurable.

She relaxed on the ground as she watched Jim and her master take down the cunt Sara, while Maria arranged a set of pillows on the floor and, before laying down, roman style, on them, removed her panties, sliding them over her long leather boots. The two men called her over and handed her two towels and a bucket, telling her to clean up Sara and the mess she had made, and to remove all the metal from her body.

She was her master's slave, and obeyed eagerly, awed by the damage done to the woman's tits. Where each pin had penetrated was a deep, dark, blue-black bruise, and her nipples, even after being cleaned with an alcohol solution, looked mangled: she guessed they would take at least a month to heal, if they healed at all. Once she finished cleaning up the floor, her master told her to roll Sara onto her stomach and tie her elbows and wrists together behind her back. She felt a thrill of pleasure as she tightened the leather straps around the woman's arms and wrists, feeling a surge of pleasure at this domination of another cunt like her. She hoped her master would allow her to play with this bitch; she really wanted to.

Maria gasped in pleasure as Jim expertly caressed her vagina with his fingers, his other hand popping one of her large breasts from her bodice and teasing the nipple. It had all been such a turn on, seeing Sara take punishment like that, and she felt on the verge of orgasm.

"What do you want to do to her now?" Jim asked Maria, looking down at the luscious, young piece of fuck-meat gasping and groaning under his fingers. She was good, he thought, hot and good, and how he wanted to fuck her brains out. Not now, though; there would be time enough for that later.

"I wha... wha... want," she gasped out, beginning to loose herself in pleasure, "I don't know what I want."

"Why don't you have her eat out your beautiful pussy," he suggested, working his fingers faster on her clit and breast.

Make the cunt eat me, Maria thought, gasping under Jim's attentions. "Yessss," she hissed, feeling her body tense in orgasm as blinding flashes struck her vision as she came for the first time in her life. She shuddered convulsively, pleasure flashing through her cunt and breasts and legs, and then collapsed. "Yes," she said lazily, "wake the bitch up so she can suck me off."

Jim grinned as he watched Maria orgasm, and then got up to help with the resuscitation of their sex toy. A few smelling salts and she came right around, moaning and groaning as she did so.

Sara slowly came out of the darkness engulfing her, slowly came back to the throbbing agony in her breasts and ache in her shoulders and back, and the nagging, irritating itch in her clitoris. She was exhausted and spent, hoping that they would ask no more of her, but realizing that they had more in store for her by the tight binding of her arms behind her back.

"Crawl on your belly, bitch," she heard Maria command, "crawl on your belly to my pussy and pleasure me with your tongue." She looked up toward the girl and saw that the dirty blonde, Amy, was sucking on Maria's breasts, licking and suckling them lovingly with attention and care. Achilles and Jim were stand- ing to either side of the girl's legs, both sporting large erections.

She groaned in dismay but guessed that she couldn't refuse, so she turned her body until her head faced Maria and began pushing herself forward with her legs, her legs spread like a frog and her sore breasts scraping painfully over the rough concrete of the floor. She grimaced and gasped as she felt the scabs on her nipples tear open, and rough pain lance through her breasts. She didn't stop, though, even when she felt the skin on her hips scrape off, or the skin on her shoulders tear and begin to ooze blood. It seemed like eternity, but finally her head was between the teenager's legs and her face barely and inch from her snatch.

Maria felt her excitement growing again as she watched her teacher struggle across the floor, knowing that it was causing her incredible pain. The little blond cunt sucking her breasts felt wonderful, too, and she wished she could keep both of them, Sara and the blond, for herself, but she knew she would always have to share them with Jim and Achilles. She lay back in ecstasy as her teacher's tongue sent sparks of sexual energy charging up and down her spine while the blond spread pleasure through her nipples and breasts with her mouth. Only one thing needed to be added, she thought, to make this perfect: "Achilles, fuck the bitch up the ass."

The strong sent of Maria's sex excited her, even in her agony of scratches and bruises, and she began licking the girls cunt with a deep, masochistic pleasure. When she heard Maria's command to Achilles to fuck her up the ass, she almost came in anticipation. One more person, she thought, Maria was going to be just one more person to hurt and humiliate her sexually, and she loved it.

Achilles didn't waste any time, quickly lining his throbbing cock up with Sara's asshole and shoving it in. Soon he worked up to a steady fucking motion which sent a wave of pressure building in his loins.

Jim watched, fascinated, as the four of them locked in a sexual passion, Princess sucking avidly on Maria's breasts, Sara lapping eagerly at her cunt, while Achilles stroked his hard member in and out of Sara's ass. He went over to both camera's and made sure they both had good angles of this action, especially when the mass of connected human flesh began to quake and shudder in orgasmic release.

They still weren't done with Ms. Sara Ellsworth that afternoon though. Maria commanded Sara to lie on her back with her ankles on either side of her head while Amy squatted over her head, holding down her ankles. Then, while Achilles slowly fucked Sara's gaping twat, and Maria, on her knees, sank her cunt back onto Jim's hard tool, feeling how good a man's penis could be inside her, she told Amy to pee into the teachers mouth.

Following that, the men were worn out, so Maria did some whipping and then commanded Sara to lick Princess's asshole. There followed another hour of girl play, with Maria commanding, Princess demanding, and Sara submissive and exhausted. The two men watched and made sure the camera's caught everything.

That was just the beginning for Sara and Maria. Maria was allowed to have her teacher alone three times a week, determined every Friday, and the other days she could share with Jim, Achilles, and, if Achilles decided, Princess. The times together with Jim and Achilles, for she did not miss a day to further torment Sara or to satisfy her now raging sexual appetite, she found fully satisfactory, for not only were the two men excellent sexually, they had quite an imagination when it came to abusing and humiliating her teacher. An added perk was that when the blond, Princess, was present, she had the equivalent of a cunt-slave she could order around, as well as one more instrument to torture her hated teacher.

When alone with Sara, Maria came up with ingenious devices to degrade her. Her favorite was once a week, she would put a leather hood on her teacher, with only two small holes for her nostrils and a large hole for her mouth, and, with her wrists tied behind her back, took her out to an abandoned shack near the orange groves. There she would invite a group of boys from the high school, who would pay her $50 for the invi- tation, to come and use the cunt any way they wished. With twenty or so boys every time, Sara got fucked in every hole at least fifteen times each, with Maria watching and enjoying every minute of it.

Sara, for her part, enjoyed everything done to her, even though she soon had to quit her job because she seemed to always be worn out from the sexual activities Maria, Jim, and Achilles put her through. She had become what she had secretly wanted to become all her life, a pure fucking machine, taking pleasure whenever it was offered. This time of use and degra- dation was the happiest time of her life.

Amy continued to do well in school, although it was remarked that she became even colder and more intellectual with each passing day. She did not care: soon she would be away in college and then on to a successful career, thanks in part to Achilles. She did worry what she would do with Princess when she left him, but figured she probably wouldn't have any trouble finding a man to take care of that slut wherever she went, knowing men.

Princess, for her part, loved her master and the way he treated her. The inclusion of Jim, Sara, and Maria into their little world merely excited her more, since she felt like nothing more than a commodity to be used and then discarded, which was, she though, exactly what a dirty cunt like her was. She dreaded being taken away from these people by Amy, but figured, correctly, that Amy would have to find her another master wherever she went, of she, Princess, would make things very hard on Amy Sanders.

Achilles' schoolwork suffered a bit from all the sexual escapades he was embarking on, but he really didn't care. He had three hot cunts ready at almost any time to take his cock: one who worshipped him, another to whom he could do anything, and a third one, young, lush, and lovely, who was just learning how to fuck.

Jim, never satisfied with even a very good thing, plotted on how to include yet another girl, preferably a freshman, into his little scene. Now that he had had a taste of really young cunt in Maria and Amy, he wanted to keep his supply steady. He moved in with Sara, and figured he could keep her indefinitely, and if he ever got tired of her, he could just pass her around to his friends. All in all, everything was going well.

The End