Chapter 3
"I just can't believe anything like that is going on here," said Miss Ross. I mean we run a respectable school and we don't allow that kind of carrying on."
"Well, whatever you say, Miss Ross," Jennifer said. "He still did that to me. Look at my back and ass. They are all bruised and scraped. What do you expect me to do? I can't stand this."
Jennifer's tears looked real enough. Probably she did not even know herself how genuine they were. Only the pain was so great when she got up this morning. She bled all over the towels and the toilet seat.
Regina not coming home that night also frightened her. They had not been apart this long for years. They were such good friends that she was accustomed to knowing where Regina was all the time.
Perhaps her tears at the punishment she received was really concern for the sake of her friend who she considered pretty helpless and naive.
The only way to get to the bottom of this was to press Miss Ross. But deep in her heart, Jennifer knew she was lying to her and to herself. For Morgan's beating had stirred something down inside her which she thought had been there for a long time.
Why else had those other lays she had had for such a long time never really turned her on? All that fucking and sucking and blowing was really pretty tame for her and she hated it.
"No, I can't expect you to stand this," Miss Ross broke in on her reverie. "I like you very much and I want to help you. So please, you must believe me that there is nothing wrong."
"If there is nothing wrong," retorted Jennifer, "where is Regina? She didn't come home last night. I was so worried I didn't know what to do. I didn't hardly sleep."
At the last sentence, Jennifer's voice rose to a shout and she began to dribble tears down her rosy cheeks.
Miss Ross came over to Jennifer and put her hand around her shoulder.
"If it would make you feel any better, you can call me Susan," she said. "Maybe we can talk about all this."
At this, Miss Ross gently-but very firmly-began leading Jennifer over to the couch on the side of the room. At first, Jennifer resisted, but she felt something give way inside her and walked willingly over to the couch.
She threw herself down on the couch and began to sob softly again.
"Now listen," Miss Ross said a little coldly, "we can't have all this crying and nonsense. Now stop it!"
Jennifer looked up startled. For a long moment she just stared at her.
"You're just like all the rest," she said, with a dead emotionless voice. "You don't really give a shit about me."
Miss Ross was standing over Jennifer's long, lank form-stretched out on the couch. No emotion showed on her commanding face. Her deep eyes flashed.
With one quick movement, she lifted her white rubber-soled shoe and crushed it into Jennifer's face. Smudge and dog shit spread over the young girl's pink face.
"I guess you haven't learned your lesson yet," Miss Ross said. "Well, you will and very soon. By the time we get through with you, you will know how to obey. We'll have you shitting in your panties little girlie!"
Jennifer felt the same racing feeling in her body. Her tits tingled. Down way low in her gut, she felt the fluttery excitement of passion. She moved her thighs lasciviously on the velvet couch.
"Don't hurt me," she said to Miss Ross.
"I'll do just what I like!" screamed the dark-haired beauty. Her verbal explosion triggered in the formidable figure as a burst of rage.
She began pounding Jennifer about the head and body. Again and again, she brought her fists and opened hand onto her tender, sore skin.
Miss Ross' hair flew in a whirl like a blizzard of blackness. Her short dress strained around the top of her thick inviting thighs. The veins stood out across her tawny forehead.
When she lifted her arms to strike Jennifer again, the dark stains under her arms showed the tension she was under. Sweat dripped from her brow onto Jennifer's thin, tight cashmere sweater.
Jennifer was moaning softly. Her hands were raised in futile gestures of self-protection. All the more futile in the face of Miss Ross' power because she wanted not protection, but surrender. She wanted sweet surrender to this pain.
The beating increased in tempo and ferocity, and then abruptly stopped. Reflexively, Jennifer rolled halfway over on her side and curled up like a little child.
"Yes, sweet little child," Miss Ross cooed, "curl up. But don't go to sleep my dear. You haven't had your punishment yet. You can't go to sleep without your punishment."
The brief interlude came to an end, an instant before the leather strap hit Jennifer flat and hard across the back. She could hear it whirring through the air just before it struck her.
The sound was like the hissing of a lizard begging and calling for her. She heard it as if she were tied to stakes and this monster were coming to devour her.
"You can't escape," Miss Ross howled as the leather slapped home. "Why don't you admit my power. You are under my control. Don't resist it."
The leather strap snapped through the furry softness of her sweater. An instant later it repeated. This time the pain was sharper and more intense. Jennifer felt it cutting through the thin material of her summer dress.
Over and over on her buttocks she felt the tearing. Roughly, Miss Ross pulled up the skirt, revealing the scarred thighs and ass of a victim of torture.
"What have we here?" Miss Ross asked. "You can't pretend to me that you don't like to be hit with a backside like that. It's so round and full. It's so scarred and beaten. You only get what you really want. You really want it."
Jennifer kept hearing those last words echoing in her head. You really want it, you really want it, you really want it, her thoughts repeated.
What was the use of fighting it, she thought. The truth had the power to overcome all her modesty and shame. After all these years she knew that -to be beaten was the only way to get her pleasure.
Back and forth under the ever-moving strap Jennifer writhed. Each burst of pain was an ecstatic moment. All her senses were focused on the next blow.
Moaning lower and lower, she encouraged in her mind all the pain and humiliation. Never, never stop, she thought. All I want is to get it.
As if in answer to her unspoken prayers, Susan beat harder and harder. With an animal-like swipe she tore the flimsy panties from the luscious backside of the girl.
Jennifer's quim reverberated from the act. It sent quivers up into the nether reaches of her inner world. In that world she lived her secret life of bondage and torture. Now, beyond her wildest dreams, the world inside was becoming the real one.
"Lift your ass," Miss Ross commanded. In instant obedience, Jennifer complied. Her ass rose high into the air. She was arched expectantly on the soft yellow couch. She did not have long to wait.
Positioning herself at the head of the couch, Miss Ross grabbed tightly onto what was left of Jennifer's skirt. With a perfect skillful motion she brought the strap rocket-like down over the crack in Jennifer's ass, and snapping down onto her upturned pussy.
The thrill was unbearable. All Jennifer could think of was more.
"More, again," she moaned. "Do it to me again. Oh, I love it! Don't stop now!"
Miss Ross said nothing but held on tighter. She could feel the pressure and straining against her giving flesh. Like a rippled lake, she moved under the bonds of Miss Ross.
"You're nothing, you little trash," Miss Ross snarled. "I'll tell you when you get more, you shit. I don't want to hear one peep out of you."
The terror was genuine. She feared Miss Ross more than any person she had ever met. She had never known a woman so strong and commanding. She loved it.
Yet it was not the terror which prevented her from speaking. For the terror pleased her more than it frightened her. The terror became passion. The passion became lust for more. To not be terrified was to lose the passion. She was afraid of nothing more than losing the passion which she had so recently found.
Her clit, her crack, her asshole and her cunt all were open to the blows of the beautiful beast of a woman. Each one in its turn received the brutal attention it so richly deserved.
With her sharply manicured nails, Miss Ross dug into the soft and succulent asshole of her new protégé. Thus securing a hold, she began digging around. At the same time she increased her thrashing of Jennifer's soft thighs.
Those thighs moved as if they were crying to be whipped. Each blow was received with a little quiver of desire. That is exactly what Jennifer felt deep in her chest and gut. A desire so strong, consciousness of anything outside of the cycle of beating and submission ceased to exist.
Everything faded from her mind except the knowledge of now. It was a dream filled with demons and deliverers. Nothing was asked that couldn't be done. Nothing was taken that could not be given.
Jennifer was brought back from her fantasy to her living fantasy. Miss Ross was far up her rectum poking and digging.
The feeling was as if someone were trying to burst all the way through her. The pressure became more intense. Then the intense pressure became pain.
Involuntarily she cried out when Miss Ross drove deeper. The cry seemed to enrage Miss Ross who showed the rage through the so well-placed finger.
With her whole body behind it, the shapely attendant thrust her finger further into Jennifer than Jennifer thought anyone could ever go. She felt as if the woman's whole arm thrust up her smelly orifice.
She felt as if her spleen would burst. But Miss Ross had her pinned and she could not move. In this agony of immobility she felt the feeling rising of passionate surrender. She could not help but move about. In so moving, she knew she would provoke the wrath of Miss Ross. But that wrath was the wine of existence now. The only thing that mattered was the pain and pressure.
This went on for an agonized eternity. Longer than any pain Jennifer had ever had this one continued. In and in Miss Ross dug like a long-armed mole digging for treasure. The treasure was the pain of a new subject.
Slowly Miss Ross withdrew the finger. Jennifer collapsed on the couch covered with sweat. But she did not have long to rest.
"Turn over, you smelly bitch," Miss Ross said. "I want you to try something."
Slowly Jennifer turned over. Her bouncy blonde curls were flattened against her sweaty head. Her rosy and youthful complexion was flushed and wiped out with the ordeal.
"Open up," she said.
Jennifer did not comprehend the command immediately.
"Open your mouth you little cunt-licker," she said.
Jennifer obeyed but slowly. It was too slow for Miss Ross. Savagely she grabbed Jennifer's cheek and pulled her mouth open. Then she thrust the asshole-smeared finger all the way into Jennifer's mouth.
"Lick it clean," she said. "I want it all clean."
Jennifer tasted her own shit on the finger. In all the creases around the knuckles she could taste and smell the excrement. She began to gag from the thought but Miss Ross only clamped her jaw harder and thrust the finger further into her mouth.
Her mouth, which was hot and exciting on Miss Ross' finger felt stuffed to overflowing. All she could think about was the finger. If she thought too much about it, she began to gag. She felt her gorge rise. The acrid vomit taste mixed with the funky shit smell.
The more Miss Ross pushed, the more Jennifer fought her.
"Suck it off!" Susan screamed. "Suck it, suck it!" To emphasize, she grabbed the scoured ass of the young girl and grabbed a large hunk of meaty flesh. She dug her nailed fingers into it and twisted. Under this new and excrutiating pain Jennifer responded.
She rolled her hips to the pressure of this coercion and thrust her breasts up as if they too, were begging for the same treatment.
"Lick it, baby," Miss Ross cried.
Jennifer began to lick. At first she licked tentatively, tasting the large balls of shit stuck around the nail. The more she licked, the more she wanted. She began to lose her inhibition and started to enjoy the act.
"Faster and harder," demanded Miss Ross. "That's not good enough."
Jennifer begged to comply. She sucked and chewed away like a maniac. The offal-covered finger was being licked like a newborn calf. The more she licked, the harder Miss Ross pressed it into her mouth. Harder and harder she pressed. Jennifer thought she could press no harder.
But she had never known the likes of Miss Ross.
When in the grip of the passion she was insatiable. Nothing could satisfy her but the pain she saw on her victim's face.
So Jennifer's pleasure in submitting only enraged Miss Ross, for it was not pleasure which she sought to inflict. Only the unending pain was her goal.
Her point of satiation was approaching. Jennifer could hardly breathe. She could barely remember what it felt like to not have this choking probe down her throat. Her whole body seemed wrapped around this thin finger in spasms of clutching need.
Jennifer did not know herself. It was a need to have it out or a desire for more entry. A beast was inside her. The beast was her own desire. She could not control it. She had no desire to control it. She loved the beast. Sometimes she became the beast.
"Suck, suck, suck!" Miss Ross intoned. Over and over again she rhythmically ground her digit into Jennifer's awaiting mouth.
At last that is what Jennifer did. No longer did she fight the finger. It became part of her.
She desired nothing but to please it. She enveloped it and sucked. No matter how hard her tormentor thrust, she gave and gave.
It was perfection itself. Her pain was her pleasure and her torturer sought only to give her pain. Harder and harder down the gagging throat the finger went.
Suddenly Miss Ross withdrew her now-glistening finger. Jennifer breathed deeply and opened her mouth in pleasure.
"Now you see," said Miss Ross, "that your only path is to tread my way."
She lay on the couch for a while. Miss Ross disappeared. Jennifer did not move. Her mind wandered back aimlessly.
She remembered the feeling of her cat clawing her. She loved to hold him too tightly and make him claw her bare breasts to escape.
That was the pleasure she remembered from home. All the other things were just bad memories. They were just phantoms wandering ineffectually through her life. Nothing had she any respect for.
Her parents did not give a shit about her. They were too busy making money to ever care about how she was doing.
She grew up fast taking what she could from those in her life. But all those stupid shits did not give very much to her. They only cared about themselves, she thought.
She hated her parents both and would have killed them if she had had less sense or more opportunity. Instead, she let the boys take her out to the lake in their imagine cars and feel up her big tits.
She had very large tits, especially for a young girl. She was the light of the social whirl in her school. She was sought after by all.
She loved the attention and had nothing but contempt for all the boys who dated her. She saw all the good things which the fast girls got. But she did not think of herself as fast. She just did what she wanted.
What she wanted was to start going down at fourteen. The place she loved to fuck in the most was the back of a car. Somehow, being all squashed up and bent about made the screw better. In fact, the only time she ever really got off was the time just before she left home when her boyfriend and two of his friends took a drive out to a deserted spot.
The trip was supposed to be for a picnic but on the way, both her boyfriend's pals were feeling her up. By the time they got way out in the woods, they had her pinned in the backseat.
That was the best ball of her life. She was scared and they pushed her around to get her to shut up. One of them held her while the other two hit her. She found she liked that more than anything that had ever been done to her.
Suddenly she snapped back to the present. "Get up," Miss Ross commanded. Jennifer complied.
"Follow me and don't make a sound if you know what's good for you."
Jennifer walked behind Susan through the door into the back room with the barber's chair in it.
"Sit down in the chair right now," Miss Ross said.
Jennifer sat down and as soon as she had done so, Miss Ross whipped out two thick leather belts and strapped her arms to the armrests of the chair.
She bound them very tight. They were so tight, Jennifer could feel the blood pounding in her wrists.
Just then, there was a ringing of the front door bell. Miss Ross rushed out of the room, making sure to lock it behind her. After what seemed like an eternity, she returned, carrying what looked like a rubber wet suit.
Miss Ross loosened the straps on her arms and roughly removed the sweater.
"Put this on," she said.
Jennifer complied.
When Jennifer was seated again, Miss Ross re-tightened the straps. They were excruciatingly binding. Then with a furious motion, she tore the panties and tattered skirt from the curvaceous form of the trapped girl.
When Miss Ross was done, Jennifer sat strapped in the chair, wearing nothing but an extremely tight-fitting rubber halter top.
It reached from her neck to just below her ribs. Her firm and overwhelming breasts made the garment bulge out dramatically. Cut out in front were two holes where her pert and pulsating nipples poked out in Miss Ross' face. But for that, she was naked to the world.
Miss Ross approached her with half-smiling parted lips. Her breathing was deep and labored. She reached up and pulled the hair dryer down over Jennifer's head. With a flick of her hand, she turned it on to "high."
Instantly, a blast of very hot air burned around Jennifer's face and eyes. She had never felt air this hot so directly on her skin. She squirmed to escape the burning blasts.
From out of the bottom of the dryer she could see the graceful form of Miss Ross. Her hips moved back and forth under her dress as she walked. When she turned around she was carrying in her hand a hair curling iron. When she approached, Jennifer could already feel its heat.
"Now, let's see how you respond down there in your beautiful snatch my dear," Miss Ross said, slowly.
With that, she made a pass with the red-hot iron over the smooth hair of Jennifer's belly and down toward her hairy pussy.
Involuntarily, Jennifer's belly sucked inward to avoid the hot iron. But her throbbing cunt could almost feel the heat of the iron. It longed for it.
Her thighs brushed together and spread slightly, revealing the wet, sticky whiteness forming on the lips of her cunt.
"So you're not afraid, my dear?" Miss Ross said.
Jennifer thrilled at the threat of pain and moved her body slightly in the chair. Her toes tingled as Miss Ross brushed it gingerly through her pubic hair.
Jennifer had an unusually thick bush for a blonde girl. The iron burned the hair, producing a sickening smell. Down deeper in the sporran Miss Ross probed. The lips of Jennifer's cunt could feel the heat.
Suddenly, with one quick jerk, Miss Ross brought the tip of the hot comb onto her erect little pulsating organ. Her whole body thrilled around the pain. She moved her thighs to clutch the sensation.
At that moment, from the bottom of her throat, Miss Ross uttered a guttural cry and plunged the comb deep into Jennifer's smoking honey hole. Jennifer screamed with agonized pleasure and passed dead out.