TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 8 - whipping, surrender
Susie gasped. She knew the meaning of the word -- her life hadn't been
that sheltered. After all, she had lived in a college dormitory for four
years. Her anger flared up again. "I'll do no such thing!" she protested.
"You can take your dirty ideas, and your dirty sheets, and . . ." She
broke off in a yelp of pain as one of the boys hit her with a leather
strap, the lash curling around her calves, just below her skirt. Everyone laughed.
Everyone but Susie.
By now, Chuck had arrived. "Susie honey," he leered, "you should see how
nicely you jiggle when you jump. Especially with your tits hanging out
like that," he added.
Susie's face burned a flaming red. She had forgotten that she had been
removing her blouse when she came up the stairs, that her bra was starkly
revealed, with its hint of firm female flesh within. More than a hint,
actually -- the tantalizing upper slopes of her breasts were fully
exposed to the lecherous stares of the boys -- and to Angie's cynical inspection.
Belatedly, she crossed her arms over her breasts, all bravado lost in the
realization of her complete vulnerability.
The strap bit into her legs again. "Let's see a bit of respect now,
Teacher," the boy taunted. "Let's see you stand up straight, with your
hands at your sides. Stand at attention -- chin up, shoulders back,
and -- ah -- chest out." He emphasized the command with another blow.
w#
Susie crumpled into a heap on the floor, face buried in her hands. She
didn't notice that her skirt had crept up, exposing the lower part of
her nicely rounded thighs, until her tormentor rained a series of blows
on her. The other boys quickly took off their belts and joined in the
fun, while Susie writhed in agony.
"OK!" Angie finally called above Susie's wails. "Enough. For the time
being, anyway. I think that little Susie may be softened up enough by
now so that she'll be a little more cooperative. On your feet, cunt!" she barked.
Painfully, Susie drew herself to her feet. "So stand at attention,
like you were told." All resistance gone, Susie obeyed the command,
agonizingly aware that her blouse now hung fully open, but not daring
to do anything that would conceal her almost-naked charms.
She knew what the boys wanted to look at. And she knew what else they
were going to want, too.
"Now," Angie sneered, confirming her fears, "let's get down to cases.
I'm sure that these fine specimens of American manhood just can't wait
to fuck you. Right, guys?" The answer was a chorus of cheers.
"And you just can't wait for them to do it, can you, Susie dear?"
"No!" Susie screamed. "Please, not that! I'll do anything you want,
but please -- please don't -- don't violate me!"
"Violate", Angie mimicked the word. "How cute! Well, maybe we can work
out something else that you can do instead. No, don't grumble, fellows.
Let's just see if we can work out a good compromise for all concerned.
"Let's see. First of all, we have the problems of what Susie-Floozie
is going to do after we leave. It would be most embarrassing if she
went running to the police. Even though it would be her word against
ours, any accusation would prejudice the pigs against us if they catch
us in another caper.
"So what to do, Susie? We can't take your word that you'll forgive and
forget, of course. So the obvious alternative would be to quietly slit
your throat after we finish doing you. After all, dead women don't
tell tales, any more than dead men do. Maybe we could have a little
fun along the way, like slicing your tits off first. How about it?"
"Please --" Susie protested. "Please don't kill me."
"Just like the classic advice they give to rape victims," Angie gloated.
"Survival is the first order of the day, no matter what the price.
OK, so let's negotiate the price.
"It occurs that it might protect us if you let us take pictures of the
action -- plus some shots of you getting ready for the gig. That way,
if you scream Copper, we can show that you were really cooperating.
And you would find yourself in trouble, anyway, for contributing to
the delinquency of minors. Well, we're not all minors, exactly, but
a teacher is supposed to be guardian of her students' morals, and all
that."
"Yeah," pointed out one of the boys. "Even if we did get into hot water,
they'd blame her more than they would us. Shame on you, you hussy!"
he whittled his finger at Susie, "leading us into the paths of temptation."
"So let's have your opinion, Susie dear," Angie went on. "Will you
pose for the pictures, or do you consider it a fate worse than death?
Literally, that is," she added.
Susie forced herself to nod her acquiescence.
"And now for the other question. Are you willing to give me a real
first-class Frenching, or would you rather be fucked by the boys?"
"Please -- I'll do what you want," Susie wailed.
