Chapter 2
"So, I would have to say that the majority of you need a bit of work on basic grammatical skills. Anyone who needs remedial training should go see one of the tutors at the times and places listed on the blackboard," Gertrude said to the lecture hall full of freshmen. "Don't forget, you have to be able to pass this class in order to sign up for any other one hundred or two hundred level courses. And I don't see how some of you will be able to do it without some additional training that I, unfortunately, will not be able to give during a one hour a day class. You should have learned all of this in your high school English classes. Okay, class dismissed."
There was general activity in the lecture hall as the students gratefully ran out of their nine o'clock class.
"Oh, and may I please see Harrison Young at my desk?" Gertrude yelled above the din.
She had not really forgotten to call the boy a few moments earlier; his name had lingered in her mind and on the tip of her tongue all night and all morning long.
But she had chickened out for a second.
Gertrude Greengates didn't feel too secure about meeting the author of the disgusting tale between Charlene and her sadistic mistress.
But the young college professor knew she had to.
It was a duty that she, as an academic authority figure, was required to perform.
Throughout the hour-long class, she had nervously glanced amongst the sea of young, innocent, freshly-scrubbed faces that seemed typical of freshmen students.
Not a single one of them looked like a sordid, perverted writer of the vulgar pornographic material that had passed her desk.
Yet one of them must have been.
Gertrude tapped the corner of her desk in the front of the lecture hall uneasily.
Perhaps she should have arranged a meeting with Professor Naugles on hand after the class.
What if this deranged student decided to take her right then and there in the middle of the lecture hall!
One never knew with these perverted types!
But Gertrude Greengates almost heaved a sigh of relief when the entirety of her Beginning Composition class had exited the hall.
The mysterious Harrison Young had not stepped forward.
And suddenly, Professor Greengates realized that this was not a cause for relief.
It was, rather, a cause for alarm.
The writer of that vulgar, sadistic essay was not prepared to make himself known.
What if some student continually turned in revolting essays like the one he written for her class the day before, and never showed his face.
What if he lurked outside the lecture hall one day, just waiting to attack and maim her sexually?
Gertrude lingered behind her desk a while longer, staring forlornly at the completely empty lecture hall.
The pretty professor was shaking uncontrollably.
She gathered a few study materials she had brought with her and ran up the steps to the safety of the hallway.
Sweat broke out on her brow as she glided down the hallway to greet her 10.00 AM Writing and Reason class.
The next morning, Gertrude Greengates sat in the empty lecture hall after her Beginning Composition class had been dismissed.
Her trembling hand hovered uncertainly over the pile of papers that had just been placed on her desk.
The class had turned in their second essay of the semester.
Would Harrison Young have written a follow up to the bizarre saga of Charlene and Mistress Vanessa?
Gertrude hoped not.
She desperately wished that the sick practical joker had had his laugh, and was now prepared to leave the college professor alone.
Gertrude had checked the class roster the afternoon before.
There was no Harrison Young listed in her class.
There was no Harrison Young even listed at the entire college of Southeastern University of Minnesota!
Gertrude thought the entire incident rather unsettling.
She had discarded the first story in the waste paper basket of her office the evening before.
But this morning, before she had taught her nine o'clock class, the young professor had torn through the collected waste, desperate to retrieve the offending material.
She justified her actions by telling herself that the paper could be used as evidence in case she was eventually confronted by the deranged author and harassed by him in any way.
But deep down inside, Gertrude realized that she desired to read the essay over and over again.
The characters fascinated her.
The pain that Mistress Vanessa inflicted on the young girl who lusted after the gorgeous domina-trix's voluptuous body sent emotional shivers down Gertrude's back.
Were they shivers of fear?
Or shivers of sexual excitement?
Gertrude's conscience told her the former.
But the woman secretly harbored half-formed fears that she had rummaged desperately through the garbage can for the paper because the contents of the story really did turn her on.
Mistress Vanessa had shoved the thick iron rod up Charlene's cunt!
And the girl had screamed for help!
Gertrude had been shocked and repulsed the first time she had read the story.
But by the third rereading, she had to admit that Harrison Young was quite a talented writer.
And that Mistress Vanessa was quite a lady.
Of course, Gertrude would never tell anyone what she really thought about the essay, not even the mythical Harrison Young himself.
In fact, the unknown author scared the woman the more she thought about him furtively pecking away at the keys on his typewriter in the dim light of his dorm room, his roommates fast asleep, on hand holding his bulging crotch, and a sardonic smile spreading over his youthful features.
She could almost envision him clamping his hand down around his throat to avoid giggling obscenely at the horrible scenes of torture and punishment he was painting.
Gertrude might have deemed the story mildly intriguing from a professional's point of view, then, but she had no desire to meet the disturbed young creature who had been its creator.
The alter ego of Harrison Young was a sick, sick man.
And he frightened the shit out of Gertrude Greengates.
The college professor stared blankly at the pile of essays on the lecture room desk.
She really should just pick them up and run to her ten o'clock class, Writing and Reason.
But curiosity had piqued Gertrude's attention, and the woman wondered over and over if another sordid little vignette of mutilation and lesbian erotica lurked amongst the awkward scribblings of typical teen-aged subjects: dating, cars and movies.
Was a tale of torture and terror, of bloodthirsty lust, lying in ambush between the crisp white pages covered with typewritten figures, just biding its time until Gertrude's prim little eyes gobbled up its lewd, obscene lines with fascinated disgust?
Gertrude just had to know!
She would never be able to conduct her ten o'clock class without knowing if Harrison Young's foul and filthy fingers had stuck again.
The papers would burn tauntingly in her hands as she carried them down the hall.
The pretty professor suddenly let out a low moan of frustration.
She tore through the stack of essays like a thing possessed.
Her mild demeanor was gone.
Her composure had entirely disappeared.
Page after page flipped by her staring eyes.
Name after name passed through her quivering fingers.
And suddenly, Gertrude gasped in shock.
There, close to the bottom of the pile, was a second essay from Harrison Young!
Forgetting for the moment all about the Writing and Reason class she had to lecture in a few minutes, Gertrude pounced on the essay, pulled it savagely out of the pile and turned to the opening page.
Her lips were trembling, her knees were weak.
What was coming over her?
She had never reacted to pornography in this manner before!
She placed her pince-nez on the end of her nose with shaking fingers.
Gertrude poured nervously over the first typewritten page.
She gasped as she read:
Becky was a young, nubile nymphette. She had nice big tits and a moist, hot cunt.
The things that this cute little girl enjoyed more than anything in the world were a good hard fuck and a brutal, flesh-shreading beating.
Becky loved for her cunt to be raped by a big, hard slab of fuckmeat.
And she hungered to feel her body being attacked and battered, bitten and scratched.
Becky needed a mistress.
A mistress who would teach her that bad little girls get the punishment they deserve.
Bad little girls who want hot, hard cock up their filthy pussies had to be beaten and whipped by their mistresses.
They needed to be disciplined.
And Becky definitely needed discipline.
Becky needed a mistress to teach her how to be a good little girl.
A good little girl who would not let a thick, throbbing fucktool enter her dirty, slimy pussy.
Becky needed Mistress Xaviera!
Gertrude thrust the papers from her hand.
The prim yet sexy college professor was intrigued, horrified and frightened at what she had just read.
She glanced around the lecture hall wildly.
It suddenly seemed to be too large, too empty.
Gertrude's whole body trembled uncontrollably.
She glanced at her watch and suddenly sprang from her chair with a moan of dismay.
It was five after ten.
She was late for her next class!
Grabbing the pile of essays from her Beginning Composition class, Gertrude Greengates ran up the steps and out of the lecture hall.
She would have to finish reading about Becky and Mistress Xaviera during her lunch break!
Gertrude snuck into her office and turned on the light.
She locked the door.
The prim little college professor sat down at her desk and opened a container of strawberry yogurt.
She pulled the pile of compositions from her nine o'clock class closer to her and put on her pince-nez.
She picked out Harrison Young's essay, that offensive yet highly interesting composition.
Gertrude numbly let the yogurt fill her mouth as she continued to read:
Becky had often heard about the sordid, dark little sex clubs that had sprung up in the seedy section of town.
But the naive young girl had no idea what went on in these dens of lust. Her parents kept her sheltered from the horrors of modern society and forbade her to even go outside the security of their warm, loving, but infuriatingly boring happy home once darkness had descended upon the streets of their town.
Becky, being a curious young lass, always longed to see what lewd, vulgar acts were committed in these houses of sin.
She dreamed about it day and night, night and day.
Until one day, she could no longer stand being in the dark.
When her parents were slumbering deeply under their clean, warm sheets, Becky stole out her bedroom window dressed in her best Sunday dress and snuck her way to the unbridled pleasures of life downtown.
The streets were full of strange and obscene characters who stared at the young girl stumbling along the brashly-lit neon-lined sidewalks wearing nothing but a frilly white frock.
Downtown was crawling with life at this late hour of the evening, a time when Becky had thought that no one was stirring while she dozed in her bedroom at home, dreaming of the forbidden delights she would soon experience.
And, finally, the shy young girl reached her destination: Club Sex.
She had often heard its name whispered on the lips of the horrible, street-wise girls that littered her high school.
Club Sex was supposed to be tough.
It was supposed to be slimy and dirty and decadent.
But, most of all, it was supposed to be fun. Very fun.
And Becky needed some fun in her mundane, trite little life.
That evening she was going to receive it.
But the enjoyment she received that night was not going to be anything like laughing with her parents while playing a hot game of Scrabble, or giggling at some amusing clown at the circus.
This was going to be a type of fun the young girl had never experienced. A type of fun she had never known existed.
Becky was going to find fun of a sexual nature.
Strange, brutal, cruel fun.
Sadistic fun.
Becky was going to engage in sadistic fuck action, in sadistic lesbian submission that would teach the girl a lesson she would never forget.
But Becky had no realization of this as she handed the hulking black man at the door the fifteen dollars entry fee she had acquired after weeks of saving her allowance.
Becky just knew that she was going to have a better time than she had ever had at home. And she knew that her fifteen dollars would be well-spent.
The young girl in the virginal frilly dress walked through the doors of Club Sex, her eyes opened wide.
Becky gasped.
She had never seen such a sight in her life as the communal display of orgasmic delights that greeted her naive, blinking eyes.
Becky saw naked, firm young bodies everywhere.
They were fucking, sucking, licking, slurping ... all of which the girl had never engaged in her entire life.
And here were hot young bodies: firm, sweaty males pumping their loads deep up the cunts of wailing bitches; muscular, meaty men grabbing women's private parts and forcing them to suck their hard, blood-engorged cocks and swallow their hot, sticky loads; naked, fuck-hungry girls, begging for a taste of another girls' pussy juices, shoving their fingers deep up the twats of their neighbor, and yanking at the same time on the massive tool of the closest male.
It was all so weird, so wonderful, so bizarre! And so terrifying!
The little girl had never known such acts occurred between two humans!
Becky suddenly wondered, even as she stood rooted to the spot, fascinated, if she should just turn around and leave the horrible, stinking orgy behind.
She had had enough.
It repulsed her young, half-formed sensibilities.
Becky turned to leave, trembling in fear at the obscene acts ofpassionvnd lust that were displayed before her unbelieving eyes.
But, suddenly, her arm was being held in a vice-like grip by a strong hand that dug into her tender flesh like a claw.
"You're not going anywhere, dear. You're MY little sex slave for the evening!" insisted a deep, firm voice.
Becky spun around in fear to see who had suddenly held her captive. The young girl gasped.
The voice had been so deep, the grip so powerful, that the naive schoolgirl had assumed she had been seized by a man.
But it was not a man who had demanded that the girl be his sex slave.
It was a woman.
The most beautiful woman Becky had ever laid eyes on in her life.
"I am your Mistress Xaviera," the woman announced.
Becky stared.
Mistress Xaviera was decked out in black leather. The material clung to her shapely figure, outlining her firm, slender thighs; shapely, round ass; high, voluptuous tits crowned with hard, erect nipples.
The beautiful woman's dark eyes bored into Becky's.
The little girl groaned.
The woman's hand was clutching her slender arm so brutally, so savagely!
"L-let me go!" Becky protested timidly. Mistress Xaviera sneered at her nascent sex slave.
"You silly little bitch!" the woman spat out. "I have chosen you as my partner for the evening. There is no way you can escape!"
"B-but ... but...." Becky gasped, attempting to struggle free from the woman's tenacious grasp.
"WHORE!!" Mistress Xaviera screamed, suddenly lashing out with her free hand and smacking the girl brutally across the face.
Becky tumbled to the floor in her frilly white dress.
She yelped in terror and tried to scramble across the floor for refuge.
But she could not escape the omniscient sex mistress.
Xaviera kicked Becky's crawling body with her heavy, black boots.
The young girl shrieked in pain as the pointed toes of the boots lashed out at her tender skin again and again.
"Help me somebody!" Becky called out in pain.
But no one heeded the girl's cries for help.
They were too busy fucking and sucking and whipping to be concerned about a little girl in a white dress being kicked across the floor by her mistress.
Scenes like that occurred regularly at Club Sex and nobody gave them a second thought.
That is what made the club so hot, so sexy, so fun.
And Becky would just have to learn exactly what type of fun the club offered.
If she didn't enjoy it at the beginning, she would be forced to enjoy it by the end of the evening.
She really had no other choice.
Mistress Xaviera struck out at the girl's young body with her steel-tipped boots until there were angry red welts covering the entirety of her tender, creamy flesh.
Becky screamed in agony, wondering if the woman had broken any skin and is she was sending pools of blood dripping from her body.
But Mistress Xaviera was only beginning her torture of the newest of her sex slaves.
Blood would pour later.
Now it was only time for pain.
A lot of pain.
Excruciating pain that would punish Becky and teach the girl a few things about discipline and obedience that she would never, ever dare to for get.
Mistress Xaviera grabbed the girl by her long, blonde hair and brutally dragged her into a corner.
Becky screamed and kick, hollered and shouted as he felt her locks being torn from the roots.
Spasms of pain wracked her scalp, and her body throbbed and ached from the savage kicks she had received from Mistress Xaviera's heavy leather boots.
"You little cunt!" the woman screamed at the sobbing, terrified girl. "Get your ass in that corner and prepare for me to fuck you!"
Becky could not believe what she was hearing. How did this strange, terrifying woman think she was going to fuck her?
The girl hardly had time to ponder the dilemma, however, for Mistress Xaviera suddenly thrust Becky's struggling young body into a corner and reached out with her crawl-like hands.
The beautiful sex mistress tore the girl's dress from her nubile, virgin form.
Becky screamed and attempted to hide her tiny, pert tits and v-shaped forest of dense pubic hair from the woman's lecherous stares. ft was no use.
The shy little girl's trim, shapely body had been exposed for all to see.
Becky was mortified, terrified and humiliated.
And her poor body was wracked with pain.
"H-how are you going to ... to...." Becky began.
She could not bring herself to spit out the forbidden word.
"How am I going to FUCK you?" Mistress Xaviera asked, sneering lewdly.
The trembling girl nodded vigorously, tears streaming down her pretty face.
"With THIS!" Mistress Xaviera announced, suddenly pulling a thick, twelve inch iron rod covered with sharp, savage spikes.
Becky stared at the horrible, strange torture device and whimpered in terror.
"B-but you'll kk-kill me with that thing!" the girl gasped. "I-it'll rip my poor little hole to shreads!"
"It certainly will," Becky's mistress said, smiling in fuck-hungry glee. "And I'm going to make sure you enjoy every second of it!"
Becky stared at the massive, terrifying sex tool, quivering uncontrollably.
"You better enjoy it," Mistress Vanessa said. "Or I really WILL kill you!"
Becky sobbed in horror and clawed at the wall she had been thrown against in vain. There was no escape from the horrible, sex-starved woman and her thick, spiked dildo.
Becky's tender pussy tissues were going to be impaled on the brutal metal spikes, and there was not a single thing she could do to in defense!