textfiles/sex/EROTICA/P/porterhi.txt

Chapter 1.0


	Jim Parker leaned against the end of his mop as he 
watched Miss  Sara Ellsworth walk away from him down the 
empty halls of Portervill High  School.  She was one fine 
piece of ass, and she knew it, always wearing  clothes that 
were just one step away from provocative.  Today she had  
worn three inch black pumps which matched a pleated black 
skirt which came  down just above her knees, revealing the 
firm suppleness of her ivory  skin, and when she turned 
suddenly, flying up to reveal the muscular  tautness of her 
thighs.  A white, and tight, low cut t-shirt, revealing  perfect 
handfuls of breasts thrusting against the fabric and a firm,  
flat stomach, was kept from being too provocative by a long 
sleeved,  black suit jacket, with a little bow in the back 
cinching in the waist.   Her dark brown hair was cut short, 
and was parted in the middle, curling  slightly inward just 
above her shoulders, framing her perfect face, with  its large, 
green eyes, small nose, generous mouth and lips, and just a  
sprinkling of freckles.  At twenty four years of age, she was 
the  youngest teacher at Porterville, and the biggest flirt.  
	Jim Parker knew a lot more about Sara Ellsworth than 
that, just  as he knew a lot more about everybody and 
everything than that, having  been the school janitor for over 
ten years.  He was an imposing 6'3 and  close to 280 lbs, 
dwarfing Sara's own tall 5'7".  He also happened to be  the 
only Afro-American in the school, Porterville being a rich 
white  suburb of several thousands.  So being, he was a bit 
of a celebrity among  the students, most foolish kids, he 
thought, and so gathered information  from them.  In his 
thirty five years of life and his twelve years, he had  thought 
he had seen everything, but he was wrong.  What he had 
found out  about Miss Sara Ellsworth surprised him, and if 
she was planning to do  what he thought she was planning 
to do, well, there was going to be some  big fun for old Jim 
boy right soon.  
	He had known Sara Ellsworth was wealthy, having 
inherited a  large, in the tens of millions, fortune from her 
father--that much he had  learned from the papers the school 
kept on all public employees.  What he  didn't know was why 
the hell she was teaching:  she didn't need the money  and 
she certainly didn't strike him as hellbent to impart the 
wisdom of  the ancients to the younger generation.  She 
seemed to be more inclined  to tease all the male teachers, 
and all the boys in her class, into  raging hard-ons, and then 
laugh inwardly at their arousal.  It had been  purely by 
accident that, while doing a walkthrough of the abandoned  
underground classrooms, now blocked off to everyone (he 
thought) except  him, he had discovered her real reason for 
teaching English at a high school.It was an old abandoned 
classroom, dark, dusty, and empty except  for a single desk 
near the back of the room.  A single light bulb burned  in the 
middle of the ceiling, throwing faint illumination through the  
room.  Miss Ellsworth was sitting naked on the edge of the 
table, her lithe  arms and legs wrapped around Sid, a third 
string offensive lineman,  clutching at him convulsively as he 
pounded his cock into her willing  pussy.  She was crying 
out in a husky voice, "Fuck me... oh god  Sid... harder... fuck 
me harder... uhg... uhg... that's it... you're  beautiful... uhg... 
fuck..."  And Sid did, no finesse there, just a  steady, brutal 
poling, sending Sara gasping and panting with lust.  Paul  
and Dave, two more rejects from the football team, were 
waiting their  turn, dicks in hand, eager expressions twisted 
by lust on their face.   Jim had looked on in amazement, 
peering through the small grimy door  window into the room, 
for the fifteen minutes it took the three strapping  young men 
to cycle through her twice each.  Each time one of them 
came  inside her, she gripped him forcefully against her body 
for a moment,  before pushing them away and beckoning 
another to put it in her cunt.   From what he could tell, with all 
the begging and grunting and calling  out and whimpering 
Miss Ellsworth had done, she must have come at least  ten 
times.  
	He had shaken his head as he walked quietly away 
from that scene,  and he remembered thinking now he knew 
why she was here:  to get a  constant supply of young, hard 
dick.  He wouldn't mind having a piece of  that cunt himself.  
Over the next few weeks, he had watched her closely,  and 
discovered that Sid, Paul and Dave were the only boys she 
kept in her  stable, but that she gave them quite a workout, 
usually taking at least  two of them twice a day.  He had even 
managed to secretly take several  pictures of her in the act:  
one showing her on her back, covered by  Dave, her legs 
wrapped around his back, her hands clutching his ass, her  
face over his shoulder in a paroxysm of ecstacy; another 
showing her on  her hands and knees, her round mounds of 
tit flesh hanging beneath her,  her back arched, shoving her 
ass back and up, her head thrown back, her  eyes closed, 
her mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure, Sid grabbing her  
hips in his hands and thrusting his cock into her gaping 
pussy.He had thought about approaching her with the 
pictures and  demanding a piece for himself or else, but then 
realized she would lose  nothing.  All the boys were overage, 
and although she might get fired,  she really didn't need the 
job.  Besides, she would probably call the  police and get him 
on blackmail.  He needed something better than that,  
something which would really hurt her, and he thought he 
would have it in  just one short day.  
	There were certain places in the basement of the 
school where, by  the strange confluence of vents and their 
acoustic properties made it  possible to hear the 
conversations carried on in supposed privacy above.   It was 
while listening in to one of the rare conversations between 
Sara  and her boys that he had found what he was looking 
for:  a way to get her  just where he wanted her, impaled on 
his dick.  
	There was a girl in the school, only a sophomore, who, 
everyone  agreed, was too smart for her own good.  Her 
name was Maria Gonzales, and  you could tell she was going 
to be a looker.  Now, at 15 years, she was  at that awkward 
stage between the gawky slimness of a girl and the buxom  
fullness of a woman.  Her straight, long dark hair was pulled 
back from a  beautiful, slightly sexy face, with large dark eyes 
and an smooth olive  complexion, turning red at her overfull 
lips stuck in a constant pout.    Her shoulders were narrow 
but gave out onto large, full breasts,  promising to be truly 
enormous when she matured fully, with large, dark  nipples 
straining through all her clothes, and firm with the resiliency  
of youth.  From there her body became boyish, with a narrow 
waist giving  onto narrow hips but full buttocks.  Her thighs 
were promisingly full and  firm, losing the thinness of 
prepubescence, and continuing down onto  perfectly formed 
knees and calves.  She was a picture of emerging  
womanhood, but for all that, she was a smart-assed bitch.  
	No one liked her much, but her father was wealthy and 
she was  large for her age at 5'6".  She also had a wicked 
tongue, cutting down  anyone who crossed her.  She had a 
special feud going with Miss Ellsworth  for some reason, and 
had, just a few days ago, called her a "splay-legged  bitch in 
heat" in front of an entire class.  This, Jim thought, must 
have  been the last straw, sending Sara over the edge.  
Keeping her boys after  school, she had laid out a plan to 
teach "that little bitch Maria" a  lesson:  Sara would lure the 
girl down to the old underground room where  they usually 
met on the pretext of looking up her files; her boys would  be 
lying in wait, and they would, simply, rape her.  
	Jim thought about warning Maria, and agonized over 
the decision  for a few minutes.  He finally decided that if he 
told her, he wouldn't  be able to get at Sara, and besides, 
Maria Gonzales was quite the little  bitch, and he didn't really 
give a shit about her.  So decided, he  borrowed a couple of 
handicams from the media classroom, attaching a wide  
angle lens to one and placing it behind one of the vents on 
the upper  corner of the classroom.  The other he kept for 
himself, planning to be  there himself to make sure he got 
good shots of everything.  
	The next afternoon, peering down into the abandoned 
classroom  from above the ceiling, having slid a ceiling tiling 
aside so he could  aim his camera down at the action below, 
he didn't see everything leading  up to the rape, but he found 
out about it later.  That day, Miss  Ellsworth, wearing white 
stockings with a white mini and a white jacket,  requested 
that Maria Gonzales meet her after school to discuss certain  
matters pertaining to her schoolwork.  Maria met her in her 
classroom at  3:30.  
	Standing upon Maria's arrival, Miss Ellsworth said, 
"You will  have to excuse me, Maria, but before I speak to you 
I wish to see your  academic records.  They are down in the 
basement.  If you would please  follow me?"  
	Rolling her dark eyes in her expressive Latin American 
face, Maria  muttered "Great" and followed Sara down into 
the basement.  After  following her teacher, that slut, down 
two flights of stairs and through  a locked door which looked 
unused for decades, Maria began to wonder  exactly where 
they were going.  "Hey," she said, "where are we going?"Ms. 
Ellsworth looked over her shoulder and answered, "The files  
are down in the basement.  Instead of walking all the way 
across campus,  we're taking a shortcut through the old 
classrooms.  Okay?""Yah yah... " Maria said disgruntledly, 
not liking the dimly lit  hallways and the dust kicked up from 
the floor.  
	Shortly, Ms. Ellsworth turned and opened a side door; 
looks like  a classroom door thought Maria as she stepped 
through the doorway,  followed closely by Sara.  
	"Wha... ?" Maria said, turning around in surprise as she 
saw she  was in an old classroom, and was met by a fist in 
the belly, doubling her  over and driving the air in a whoosh 
out of her lung.  She staggered  back, her large, dark eyes 
widening in amazement as two burly young men  grabbed 
her arms and forced her down on her knees.  "Wha..what's 
going  on?" she managed to stutter out to Ms. Ellsworth.  
	Sara stood in front of her, Sid by her side, and laughed 
cruelly,  "I'm going to teach you a lesson bitch!  You'll learn 
it's not smart to  insult your betters."  She strutted over to the 
held girl and began to  unbutton her blouse.  
	"Wha?!" Maria cried out, "No!  Stop!"  She began 
struggling,  trying to stand, twisting her body between the 
two men holding her arms,  sending her hair whipping in a 
fury about her head.  "You bitch!  You  fucking bastards!  
Aaaahhggg!  Sons of a bitch!  Let me goooo!" she  cursed 
and wailed.  
	Ms. Ellsworth just smiled and finished unbuttoning 
Maria's  blouse, revealing a strong white bra and her firm, flat 
stomach.   Grabbing her hair, Sara pulled Maria's hair back, 
bringing a hiss of pain  between her clenched teeth.  "You 
pushed me too far, you little cunt,"  Ms. Ellsworth whispered 
to her as she reached around and unclasped her  bra, "and 
now you're going to pay."  
	"Fuck you," Maria responded.  Ms. Ellsworth just 
laughed and  pushed Maria's bra up around her neck, letting 
Maria's two large,  beautifully round breasts burst free, her 
large nipples broad across her  tits.  
	"O.K. boys, now get those shorts off the cunt," Sara 
said,  standing up and stepping back.  
	"I'll get you for this," Maria spit venomously, glaring in 
hatred  at her teacher.Paul and Dave, holding her arms, lifted 
her newly struggling body  to its feet, and Sid quickly 
grabbed her legs and lifted her off the  floor.  They dropped 
her heavily onto her back, a cry of pain escaping  her full 
lips.  Sid quickly grabbed her shorts and pulled them over 
her  hips and down her shapely long legs, avoiding her 
thrashing legs.Maria was silent now, only the efforts of her 
struggle escaping  her lips to fill the room.  Her panties were 
quickly pulled off her body,  and Paul brought Maria's arms 
over her head and pinned them there.  Dave  moved around 
and grabbed one of her legs.  Sid and Dave then pulled  
Maria's legs apart, exposing the folds of the pussy to 
view.Looking down on the action through the lens of a 
camera, Jim felt  his cock begin to swell.  Maria might be 
young, he though, but she sure  had a hell of a body.  She 
was squirming on the ground now, her legs  spread by 
strong hands and her chest pushed up by her arms being 
pulled  above her head.  The firmness of youth revealed itself 
in her jiggling  breasts and lean body, and her thrashing 
revealed strong muscles beneath  creamy brown skin.  Jim 
felt admiration grow in him for Maria, who  refused to beg or 
cry out in face of imminent rape.  Instead, she screwed  up 
her pretty face into a mask of hatred, her large, dark eyes 
flashing,  her full lips pulled back from her teeth, revealing 
gritted teeth.Sara knelt between the girl's legs and said, "We 
can't have you  boys dry fuck this cute little pussy here, can 
we?"  and brought her hand  down over Maria's mound.  
Maria's face turned red from shame as she felt  her teacher's 
hand expertly manipulate her genitals, prodding her inner  
flesh and rubbing her clit softly back and forth.  After a few 
minutes  she felt a cold, clammy dampness spread through 
her loins, and turned her  face away from Ms. Ellsworth's as 
she said, "Ah... There we go.  Paul, why  don't you go first."  
	Paul quickly switched positions with Ms. Ellsworth and 
dropped  his pants.  He eagerly put his hard dick against the 
girl's tender  opening and jammed himself forward, landing 
heavily onto Maria's  breasts.  Maria grunted in pain as Paul 
jammed his cock into her cunt,  gritted her teeth and cursed 
them all in her mind.  She felt nauseous as  Paul began 
spiking his cock into her, his panting breath hot on her  
neck.  Fuckers, fuckers, bastards, I'll fucking kill them all, ran  
through her mind, choking down the bile rising in her throat 
as Paul  jerked his hips forward and shot his come deep 
inside her belly.He was quickly replaced by Sid, and then 
Dave.  Jim, from his  perch overhead, saw tears leak from the 
corner of her eyes.  He frowned  to himself, thinking that 
maybe he shouldn't have let this happen after  all.  Well, at 
the very least, he would let the girl have a piece of  little Ms. 
Sara Ellsworth when the time came.  He smiled as he thought 
of  what Maria would do to her when she got the chance; it 
would be amusing.By this time they had finished with Maria, 
and, shoving her  clothes into her hands, they pushed her 
out into the hallway.  As the  door shut on her, Sara said, 
"Okay, now it's my turn, and sat on the edge  of the desk and 
pulled up her skirt around her waist, revealing that she  wore 
no panties, and that her labia were swollen and glistening 
with lust.Maria staggered down the dusty hallway, all her 
bravado gone.   Sobs rose deep from her chest and tears 
streaked her face.  The sticky  come of her rapists squished 
between her legs and matted on her thighs.   Still crying she 
collapsed on the stairway and pulled on her underwear  and 
shorts, feeling her clothes become soggy with their sperm.  
She  clipped back on her bra and buttoned her blouse, 
wondering what she could  do.  She couldn't tell her mother:  
she wouldn't believe her.  Her mother  already thought she 
was a whore because she wore shorts to school, and  
thought her large breasts were just an invitation to 
licsentousness.  Her  father wouldn't care:  he would think 
she was lying too, because it would  be easier for him.  The 
police would just tell her mother, and that, she  decided, 
would be just awful.  She wiped her face and pulled herself  
together; she was going to have to make it home without 
anyone seeing  anything wrong with her.  
	A half hour later she was at home in the shower, trying 
to wipe  the shame and humiliation of her rape away from 
her.  She was crying  again, and hated herself for it; if only 
she could get back at that  fucking bitch Ms. Ellsworth.


Chapter 1.1


	Achilles Brown did, in no way, live up to his name.  At 
17 years  of age, he was a scrawny 5'7 and had a face that 
was plain in the  extreme.  Only his mop of brownish red hair 
distinguished him in any way,  and that, usually negatively.  
As a junior at Porterville High, he had no  friends, and was 
considered creepy by the general population of the  school.  
He was not very bright, but neither was he stupid.  His one  
redeeming quality was that he could not understand why 
people were cruel  in any way.Perhaps it is untrue that he 
had no friends; Jim, the school  janitor, seemed to have 
taken him under his wing.  And his life was not  empty, for he 
had two great passions:  photography and Amy Sanders.  
He  carried around a camera everywhere, even to school, 
and took pictures of  everyone and everything.  This, of 
course, helped to lower his popularity  even more, and he 
had been beaten up several times, narrowly protecting  his 
beloved camera from damage.His other passion, Amy 
Sanders, was, as Jim was fond on telling  him, way out of his 
league.  She was a junior also, but she was in the  "in" 
crowd.  In fact, she was the most popular girl in the history of 
the  school, and got to do pretty much whatever she wanted.  
She had an  unusual beauty:  her skin was a translucent 
white, with kinky sandy blond  hair falling to mid shoulder.  A 
sharp, thin nose divided her face in  two, strangely accenting 
piercing blue eyes.  Her mouth was small with  thin, dull pink 
lips, adding a strange attraction to her face.  Her body  was 
slender, and medium sized breasts were accented by a 
perfect  posture.  The rest of her figure was boyish, with a 
narrow waist and hips  and just barely thin legs.  She walked, 
head up, shoulders back, like she  owned the world, and 
maybe she did.  Her father was the county sheriff,  and her 
boyfriend was the quarterback of the football team.  She was  
getting straight A's in all her classes and her teachers loved 
her.  She  was way, way out of his league.Achilles had, when 
he had accumulated enough courage, tried to  talk to her a 
few times, but received the ice cold shoulder, as well as  the 
dangerous attention of her boyfriend and his crowd of 
super-macho  weightlifters.  Jim called her alternately the 
perfect little white girl  and the ice queen, and her crowd the 
meathead brigade.  It didn't  matter:  his two passions 
remained photography and Amy Sanders, and since  he 
couldn't have one, he threw himself even more into the 
other.It was a saturday evening, around 9:30 pm, and the 
moon was  full.  Achilles had been out with his camera, 
experimenting with  different speeds of film in the darkness.  
He was presently standing in  the local seven-eleven sucking 
on a Slurpie and watching the video game  scroll through the 
high scores.  Presently he exited, Slurpie in hand,  and 
turned the corner into the darkness of the building.  
Suddenly he  heard a car screech to a stop in front of the 
store, and turned and  peered around the corner of the store, 
careful not to be seen.He saw his passion, Amy Sanders, 
sitting at the wheel of her  boyfriend's truck, looking a little 
jumpy as her boyfriend and two of his  friends loped easily 
into the store.  Achilles quickly pulled out his  camera--any 
picture of Amy was a good picture--and, steadying himself,  
began to take pictures of her.Amy, sitting behind the wheel, 
was hyped up.  The speed, she  thought as she waited, the 
speed makes you fly.  Since she had taken the  drug, 
everything had a crystal clarity to it, and time seemed 
stretched,  as if she were squeezing more living into life.  It 
was the first time  she had taken the drug, at the instigation 
of her boyfriend, and she  wasn't sure she liked it:  it made 
her nervous and jumpy.  Like, what was  taking those guys 
so long?Achilles started at a loud bang, and cursed under 
his breath at  the ruined shot he had just clicked off.  He put 
himself back into his  picture taking, and slowly shock 
registered in his mind.<Click> <Click> Her boyfriend halfway 
to his truck, gun and paper  bag in hand, with his two friends 
trailing him.  <Click> Again.<Click> <Click> The door to his 
truck being wrenched open, a look of  panic on Amy's face 
as she reaches over to help open the door, while his  two 
friends jump into the back of his truck.  <Click><Click> 
<Click> <Click> Amy, small white hands gripping the  wheel, 
driving off at full speed. <Click>Jesus Amy thought, nearly 
jumping out of her skin at  the sound of the gunshot, what 
the hell?  Then she was leaning over to  open the passenger 
door as her boyfriend came scrambling through the  door.  
Oh my God he has a gun, ran through her mind, and then the 
truck  was shaking as the three of them piled into the truck 
and she was  pressing her foot on the accelerator, her hands 
clenched around the  steering wheel as she sped away from 
the scene of the crime.Achilles slowly lowered his camera as 
he watched the back of the  pickup speed away.  He couldn't 
believe it, he couldn't.  He turned and  ran, as fast as he 
could, through the empty town of Porterville, only  stopping 
when he reached his home.  He fled into his darkroom and 
began  immediately to extract his photos, his heart still 
pounding from his mad  dash and the realization that he had 
caught a crime on film.The next day he searched the local 
paper for news of the crime,  but failed to find anything.  He 
spent most of that sunday looking at the  pictures he had 
taken, staring for long periods of time at Amy's  strained, 
beautiful face.Monday morning at school he heard all about 
it:  guy at 7-11  shot... robbery... got away with $200... dead... 
police don't know...   He  went through most of the day in a 
daze.  They had killed the clerk!  What  should he do?  He 
would have gone directly to the police, but it was  _AMY_, 
Amy was involved.  Whenever he saw her he stared intensely 
in her  direction, trying to see what was happening in her 
mind.Amy had panicked all day Sunday.  She had gotten in a 
big fight  with her boyfriend and dumped him:  he was dead 
weight now.  He had  pleaded with her, threatened her, 
begged her not to tell what had  happened, as if she would.  If 
her father found out she was even present  he would kill her.  
At the very least he would make sure she went to  jail; he 
would show no mercy.  That she was his daughter would 
only make  it harder on her.  No, she couldn't tell anyone, but 
she didn't want that  loser hanging around her anymore; she 
didn't want to associate with  criminals.Her first day back at 
school was torture for her, but, she felt  sure, no one could 
tell.  She kept thinking that everyone knew who had  killed 
that clerk, and who had driven that car.  It was silly, she 
knew,  but she couldn't shake it, and read insinuations into 
every conversation  anyone had with her.  What unnerved 
her most, though, was when she had  caught that creepy 
Achilles staring at her; if anyone was to find out  about what 
happened last saturday, it was him, always sneaking around  
taking pictures of everyone.  She shuddered at the thought 
he might know,  but he couldn't.  No one had been 
there.When Jim heard about the shooting, he was surprised, 
but didn't  think too much about it:  he was too busy with his 
own plans.  He had  mailed a copy of the tapes to Ms. 
Ellsworth's home, mansion is more like  it he thought, with a 
letter stating she was to leave her front door  unlocked on 
this coming Wednesday at 9:00.  He smiled as he thought 
about  the reaming he was going to give that bitch.  His mind 
wandered in  pleasant fantasy for a while when he started 
thinking about Achilles.  A  nice kid, Achilles, but stuck on 
that uppity bitch Amy Sanders.  A little  idea came into his 
mind:  Achilles needed something to take his mind off  that 
little cunt, and a cunt like Sara Ellsworth would certainly do 
the  trick.  He smiled to himself.Achilles went through that 
monday in an agony of indecision:   should he or shouldn't 
turn them in?  He still hadn't made up his mind by  the time 
the last school bell rang, and he was surprised when Jim  
approached and asked him to meet him down in his 
unofficial office, the  boiler room, in a few minutes.The boiler 
room was situated in the bowls of the school, and only  Jim 
had the keys.  It was a private, spacious room of concrete 
and pipes,  kept warm by the excess heat from the boilers.  
When Achilles arrived, he  was surprised to see a television 
and vcr set up on a wheeled cart  against one of the 
walls."Come 'ere and sit down," Jim said, motioning him to a 
seat in  front of the tv.  "I've got a little something to show 
you."  With that  he hit the play button on the vcr and sat 
down."What are you up to here, Jim," Achilles wondered 
aloud."Just wait, and you'll find out."The screen flickered 
and moving pictures appeared, without  sound.  It was 
obviously an overhead view, and Achilles had trouble  
making out who was in the room.  There were three guys he 
didn't know,  and he watched in growing amazement as Ms. 
Ellsworth followed Maria into  this dingy little room.  He 
turned to Jim with wondering eyes, blurting  "What the?!" 
when he saw Maria turn around and stagger backward as 
Ms.  Ellsworth slugged her in the gut."Just watch, Achilles," 
Jim nodded toward the tv, "it gets better.""Jesus," Achilles 
whispered under his breath as he saw Maria  forced down on 
her knees by two of the boys.  He watched in growing  horror 
and fascination as they held her down and stripped her.  He 
didn't  know Maria personally, and, although thought she 
was somewhat attractive,  she was nothing compared to 
Amy.  Nevertheless, he found himself becoming  aroused as 
he watched the teacher reach between Maria's legs and 
begin  playing with her pussy.  He couldn't take his eyes off 
Maria's body, her  large tits, her smooth olive skin, her firm 
legs stretched apart, her  whole body struggling against her 
captors.  It was quite a sight, and he  was disgusted and 
turned on by it.  Revulsion and excitement strove  within him 
as he watched one of the boys climb on top of her and begin  
humping furiously.  He was torn between wanting to take his 
place and the  agony and humiliation clearly etched on 
Maria's face.  His eyes were  glued to the set through Maria's 
triple rape, and then Jim hit stop."Jesus Jim, what's all this 
about?  And where'd you get it?""Where I got it isn't 
important.  What I plan to do with it is."   He smiled, flashing 
large ivory teeth in a black face.  "You see, my  friend, Ms. 
Ellsworth will do anything, and I mean anything, to keep this  
tape here out of the cops's hands.  You get it?Achilles got it 
all right.  Ms. Ellsworth, she was hot hot hot,  and now she 
was going to be doing whatever Jim wanted her to do.  He  
didn't have to think about what Jim would want, not with a 
hot piece of  tail like Ms. Ellsworth.  And Jim was obviously 
letting him on a piece,  literally, of the action.  His dick grew 
hard just at the thought.  Then  another thought intruded:  he 
had pictures!  Pictures of Amy Sanders as  an accomplice to 
a crime!  If he played his cards right, he could have  her.  She 
would do whatever he wanted.  His mind boggled--Amy, 
beautiful,  unreachable Amy, was suddenly very 
reachable.Jim watched Achilles' face closely, noticing first 
the surprise,  then the realization of what this could mean to 
him, and then something  else, like wonder or expectation 
mixed."So you want in kid?" 
	"When," Achilles stuttered.
	"Well, I've set up a meet at the cunt's house this 
Wednesday at  9.  I figure we present our demands then."  
Jim put an obscene slur into  the word "demands"."Jim, Jim, 
that's great, b..b..but I've got something important  to do 
Wednesday... "Suddenly Jim grabbed him by the shirt, "You 
aren't going to tell  anyone about this, are you?" he 
growled."N..No Jim.  I've just got things to do."  He looked, a 
little  frightened, into Jim's eyes, "But the next time you meet 
her, I do want  to be there.  I want to fuck her, Jim, I really do.  
Maybe I can tell you  about this later, if it works out.  Okay 
Jim."Jim let him go, "Sure kid, I'll get in touch."  he looked 
over at  Achilles, "you're a virgin, ain'tcha?"  Achilles 
nodded, turning red. 
	Jim laughed, "Well, don't worry, she may be a 
man-eater, but  Jim'll be there to watch over you.  See ya 
later."Strange kid, he thought, giving up a piece of ass like 
Sara  Ellsworth, even for just one night...   He hoped he 
hadn't made a  mistake.  He shrugged to himself and put it 
out of his mind; Wednesday  was just two days 
away.Walking home, Achilles thought about his luck.  Jim 
had literally  handed him the hot Ms. Ellsworth, and he 
himself was going to get Amy  Sanders, his passion.  Once 
home, he went immediately to his darkroom and  whipped up 
several more sets of the pictures of the robbery and murder.   
Putting one set in an envelope, he waited, running his hand 
up and down  his penis as he thought about Amy under his 
thumb, Amy doing whatever he  asked her too; and Ms. 
Ellsworth, he couldn't forget about her, with her  brown hair 
and sexy body, he wondered how it would be with an older 
woman.That night he scrawled Amy across the front of the 
envelope and  took it over to her house.  He knew her house 
like the back of his hand,  having watched it, photographed 
it, and dreamed of it and the beauty it  held for years.  On the 
side of Amy's room, outside her window on the  second 
story, an old oak tree grew, spreading its branches right 
against  the window.  It was a safe area, so Amy thought 
nothing of leaving her  window open.  In the past Achilles 
had blessed that oak tree, as he sat  on its branches late at 
night and watched her sleeping form through her  window.  
Tonight he climbed the tree with a purpose, and stole quietly  
into her room, stopping only a moment to gaze longingly at 
Amy as she  slept peacefully in her bed.  He placed the 
envelope on her dresser and  exited the way he came, 
excitement and expectation overwhelming racing  through 
his blood.Tuesday morning Amy awoke, her mind settled 
over that horrible  7-11 business.  She had dumped her 
boyfriend, had told him off, and found  out that the police had 
no idea who did it.  Still lying in bed, she  stretched her lithe 
young body, giving a start as she saw a plain white  
envelope sitting on her dresser.  That hadn't been there last 
night.   Maybe her mother or father put it there when she was 
still sleeping; but  that couldn't be it, since she locked her 
door every night.  With growing  trepidation she stepped out 
of bed, her firm breasts pushing out her  sleeping tee, which 
fell down around her upper thighs, revealing the  smooth 
creamy skin of her thighs and her calves, her muscles 
sliding  silkily under her skin as she walked to her dresser.  
Her name was a  childish scrawl on the front of the envelope, 
and with a grown sense of  foreboding she opened the 
envelope.She looked inside and pulled out the set of pictures 
which were  the envelope's only contents.  Fear and panic 
gripped her as she looked  at the photos--they were pictures 
of the robbery.  She staggered back to  her bed and sat down 
heavily, her mind numb.  She was caught; she was  going to 
jail.  It was awful; she hadn't known what they were going to  
do.  Steeped in her misery she sat there for she didn't know 
how long,  and then she began to think.  The person who 
had given her these photos  had given them to her for a 
reason:  they weren't going to give her to  the police, she 
hoped.  It was blackmail, she was sure of it, and she  thought 
she knew who was responsible:  that sneaky little bastard  
Achilles.  She grew angry:  how dare he try to blackmail her, 
that puny  shithead.  She would tear him apart, that son of a 
bitch.  Revenge  fantasies running through her mind, she 
slowly came to realize that she  couldn't do anything; she 
was helpless.  If she tried anything, he would  simply hand 
the photos over to the police, and then she would really be  
in trouble.  No sympathy, no mercy is what she would 
get.Mechanically she began to dress.  If it was really Achilles, 
she  wondered what he would want.  She knew he liked her, 
and boys were such  idiots when it came to that.  Maybe she 
could convince him to give her  the photos if she was nice to 
him--if only he weren't such a toad.  She  went to school 
more unhappy than she had been in a long time.Achilles was 
ecstatic, although he strove hard to hide it, and  pointedly 
avoided Amy all day, even though he saw her looking toward 
him  occasionally.  Today, he thought, Tuesday afternoon, he 
would take the  first step toward possessing, toward owning, 
Amy Sanders.He ditched his last class and made it home in 
record time.  He  dropped off his stuff and picked up an 
enlarged photo of the robbery,  which he rolled up and put 
under one arm.  He then walked eagerly over to  Amy's 
house and climbed up the dependable old oak, climbing 
stealthily in  through the window and sitting down behind the 
half-closed door.Amy came straight home after school.  She 
had been wondering when  the boom was going to fall all 
day, and was racked with worry.  She  relaxed a little as she 
walked into her room and threw her bookbag onto  her bed.  
She spun around when she heard the door close behind her, 
and  let out a startled cry at the sight of another person in her 
room."Wha... ?"  she let out before realizing who it was.  
Achilles,  and he was holding an enlarged photo of the 
robbery, showing her reaching  across the truck to open the 
passenger door while her boyfriend, holding  a pistol, was 
running toward the truck.  She narrowed her eyes and  
compressed her lips, "What do you _want_?" she 
hissed.Achilles put his finger to his lips for quiet as he locked 
her  door and walked over to her stereo and turned it on to a 
comfortable  listening level, keeping an eye on Amy where 
she stood, shaking in  frustrated rage and fear.  Finished, he 
turned, thoroughly enjoying  himself, and sat down in a chair, 
adjusting his camera so it was hanging  against his 
chest."What I want, Amy," he said, "is... manifold.""You're a 
little son of a bitch," she said with feeling, glaring  at 
him."Now now Amy, you really don't want to upset me."  He 
waited to  see if this got any reaction, but when all it got was 
a more vigorous  compression of her lips, he continued.  
"You realize that you are in a  difficult position, yes?"She 
nodded, still glaring. 
	"So you accept that you will have to accede to certain... 
demands  I may make upon your person?" he said, tilting his 
head slightly to one side.She nodded again, wanting to rip 
his heart out, yet knowing that  she was helpless to do 
anything."Okay, then, let's get started," he said, standing up, 
"give me  fifty dollars."Amy started.  Fifty dollars?  Was that 
all he wanted?  She could  afford fifty dollars every couple of 
days.  She hoped that was all  he wanted.  Still shaking, she 
went over to her dresser and removed $50  from the top 
drawer and handed it to him, glaring at him in hatred as he  
slowly counted it out and put it in his pocket, the big grin on 
his face  infuriating her further."Now... " he continued...  
	Now! she thought.  Now!  Oh God.  This was horrible.  
Her stomach  gave a wrench as she listened to him 
silently."Now I'm going to set certain rules for you to follow.  
Don't  worry, they won't be difficult at all.  Just do what I ask 
and I won't  hand over the photos to the police."Rules.  She 
closed her eyes and swayed on her feet, then sat down  on 
the edge of the bed.  It was getting worse.  Maybe she should 
tell her  father about everything, then she would be free of 
this.  But she was  afraid, afraid of her father, afraid of jail.  
She would see what he  wanted and then decide.  She 
listened to him as he continued."First, no pants.  I don't want 
to see you wearing pants or  shorts to school.  Only skirts 
and dresses.  Got it?"  He watched her  until she nodded 
resignedly.  "Second, I want you to leave your bedroom  
window unlocked at all times.  Okay?"  She nodded again.  
"That's it for  the rules for now."She looked up hopefully.  
Was that all?  What was he doing now,  looking in her 
closet?  "Wha... what are you doing?" she stammered 
out."Looking for something appropriate," he 
replied."Appropriate?""Ah, here we go," he said, pulling out 
a black sleeveless mini-dress  with a scoop neckline, "put 
this on.""What?  Why?" she blurted out, confused and 
terrified of what he  might ask her to do."Come on," he 
urged, a bit of anger coming into his voice, "I want some  
pictures of you.  Why the hell do you think I brought my 
camera?  Oh, and  don't worry, I won't peek while you're 
changing."Handing the dress to the stunned girl, he turned 
around and faced  the door, not giving her time to argue.  He 
knew he was going to have to  take things slowly and 
carefully with her:  she was like a 10 lb. fish on  a 4 lb. 
line--she was hooked, but if you didn't give her room to run,  
room to wear down her resistance, then she would get 
away.  He knew that  if he pushed her too far too fast, she 
would turn herself, and him, in;  he didn't want that, he 
wanted her, and figured if he took things slowly  enough, he 
could have her, body and soul.Amy stared stupidly at the 
dress he had given her, shocked.  Of  course he wanted 
pictures, her mind told her, he was one of those  freakiod 
perverts.  She didn't want to do it, but she liked the  
alternative worse, so she quickly stripped down to her 
underwear  and put on the dress, smoothing it down so it 
reached just above  mid-thigh and adjusting the shoulders 
so that her cleavage was not too  obvious, since she had to 
remove her bra--it just wouldn't go with  this dress.  When 
she finished, she muttered, "Okay, I'm done."Achilles turned 
around and let out a long sigh at the sight of  her:  the dress 
was form fitting, the black a beautiful contrast against  her 
translucent white skin.  It hugged the gentle curves of her 
body, the  top of her breasts two creamy white mounds 
above the neckline, her thin  waist and flat stomach giving 
way to slightly wider hips.  Her thighs and  legs were twin 
pillars of shapely ivory against the black of her dress.   
Beautiful, he thought, and took a picture of her standing 
there  awkwardly, flushed with embarrassment.Standing 
there barefooted, wearing a skimpy dress in front of  this 
pervert, Amy blushed furiously.  She saw the lust in his eyes 
before  he covered them with his camera and took a picture.  
She wondered what he  wanted now."Okay," he said, "time 
for some poses." 
	Poses? she groaned inwardly, but decided not to 
argue.  So far it  wasn't too bad, although she felt humiliated.  
She began following his  orders as he snapped out a string 
of directions, moving around and taking  pictures the whole 
time."Okay, hands together over your head... stretch... arch 
your  back... up on your toes... good... good... now bend at 
the waist... keep your  back arched!... head up... look at me... 
lick your lips... good... legs apart  now... stay bent over... 
good... now stand up straight, legs   together... hands behind 
your head... bend your legs at the knees... now  twist your 
body and push out your chest... good... good... pout... good... 
now  kneel down... rest on your calves... that's right... legs  
apart... further... good... hands behind your back... good... 
arch your  back... head up... pout... wet your lips... good... 
"Posing, the camera trained exclusively on her, Amy began 
to think  that it wasn't so bad.  In fact, she thought, it might be 
fun, like  being a model, and a little bit exciting, if it were 
someone else behind  the camera, someone besides that 
worm Achilles.  She sighed to herself  and tried to imagine it:  
Luke Perry, or maybe her math teacher--he was hot."Now 
pull up that chair... sit on the edge... cross your  legs... good... 
throw your hair back... toss your head... sit up  straight!... 
good... now scoot back on the chair and spread your legs to  
either side of it... grip the front end with your hands... show 
off the  cleavage... look at the camera!... good... turn the chair 
around... straddle  it... good... rest your arms on the back... tilt 
your head to one  side... pout... good... now on your hands 
and knees... arch your back and  toss your head back... 
good... now head down... hang it down... keep that  back 
straight... good... good.  Okay, good, that's enough for now.  
I've  used up three roles of film."Amy quickly stood up and 
watched as Achilles put his camera down  and smiled at her.  
"Now remember," he said, "follow the rules and you'll  do 
okay.  See you later."  With that, he climbed out the window, 
down  the tree, and headed home, leaving Amy emotionally 
exhausted, and a  little flushed from the exertion of 
posing--as well as a little  excited--not knowing what to do.


Chapter 1.2


	Ms. Sara Ellsworth was in a great mood.  After shoving 
Maria out  the door, she had the best fucking since that time 
when she was 14  years old, and she had teased seven of 
her brother's 18 year old friends  into "raping" her.  There 
was something about watching that haughty  little bitch take 
cock that made her horny as all get out.  She had even  worn 
out her three studs.  She lamented the fact that they weren't 
very  good lovers, but they made up in quantity what they 
lacked in quality,  and, besides, she had picked them 
because they were safe:  not very  bright, glad to get sex, 
and willing to let her be in charge.  
	She was standing in front of a full length mirror in her 
home,  her skin a delicate pink from the shower she had just 
taken.  Looking at  her naked form she smiled:  she looked 
good.  With her dancer's body and  round, firm, if not large, 
breasts, she knew she was a catch.  She sighed  and thought 
about calling one of her boys over for the evening, but  
decided against it; they were all pretty tired when she had left 
them.   Still, she didn't have to go without.  She went over to 
her dresser and  pulled out her favorite vibrator.  She turned 
it on, slid it in until her  labia closed over the ends, and then 
put on a G-String to hold it in place.  
	She sighed as she felt the familiar, pleasant buzzing 
inside her  vagina, and clenched her legs together, 
orgasming as the image of Maria's  tortured face flashed 
through her mind.  She knew she was a nympho, but  she 
figured since she liked it so much, it wasn't a 
problem.Walking naked, except for the G-String, through her 
house, she  went into her video room and picked out H.O.M. 
video #16 and put it into  her vcr.  She sat down on a couch 
opposite her tv and started the tape,  her hand wandering 
down to her clitoris.  As the actors came on the  screen, she 
experienced the second of many orgasms which she was to  
experience that evening.Saturday she invited all three of her 
boys over, and they stayed  until late that night pleasuring 
her.  She went to sleep satisfied but  reluctant to have the 
evening end, since she would have to do some  schoolwork 
for Monday.  
	Sunday came, and she rolled out of bed, put on her 
robe, and  wandered out to get her sunday paper.  Picking it 
up, she noticed a large  brown envelope next to the paper.  
Frowning with a sense of foreboding,  she picked it up along 
with her paper and, walking inside and shutting  the door 
behind her, dropped both the envelope and the paper on her  
coffee table.  She started her coffee and sat down, picking up 
the  envelope but loathe to open it.  Finally she ripped it open 
and dumped  out the contents:  a VHS video tape and a 
folded piece of paper.  She  unfolded the piece of paper and 
read, "This Wednesday at 8:00 pm be alone in  your home, 
and leave the door unlocked."  It was unsigned.  What the  
hell? she thought.  This was insane!
	ow both curious and fearful, she picked up the tape 
and headed  to her video room.  She sucked in her breath 
and muttered shit as the  tape began playing.  She watched it 
through to the end, every minute  twisting another knife into 
her gut.  It was a tape of what she had done  to Maria.  With 
this tape she could be put in jail for a long time.  She  was no 
innocent; she knew blackmail when she saw it.  She sighed 
and  shook her head as she rewound the tape and began 
watching it again.  She  wondered who had sent the tape and 
what he or she wanted.  Well, she  would find out 
Wednesday, and there was nothing she could do about it  
now, except hope that whoever had the tape wouldn't turn 
her in.   
	Monday rolled around and Sara Ellsworth was more 
subdued than  usual, wearing conservative clothes and 
refraining from flirting with  anyone.  Teaching her class, she 
thanked god that Maria had decided not  to show up today, 
and otherwise kept her eye out to see if anyone acted  out of 
character.  She didn't notice that anyone, not even her 
fellow   teachers, were acting any different than normal.  She 
was so nervous that  she didn't even call upon any of her 
boys to service her, and she retired  to her large house and 
sat in her bedroom, mulling things over.   
	The more and more she thought about it, the more she 
hoped it was  a man, or some dyke.  She was confident that 
anyone attracted to women  would be attracted to her:  it had 
always been that way.  She could give  them a little taste of 
what she could do, and, she was sure, after a  while they 
wouldn't be able to do without her--then she would be in  
control, as always.  She hoped.  
	Tuesday she was much more herself, and even called 
on Sid and  Paul to service her.  Since the axe had not yet 
fallen, she was pretty  sure it wasn't going to; and she was 
sure that she could handle any  blackmailer to her 
satisfaction.  
	Wednesday her day was filled with worry and 
trepidation.  It  passed quickly and she found herself waiting 
expectantly and fearfully  for someone to walk through her 
front door.Jim Parker had purposely avoided Ms. Ellsworth 
for three days,  but now he was going to cash in.  He parked 
three blocks away and walked  through the darkness to her 
house, imagining skewering that hot white  meat on his dark 
pole.  He approached the front door and continued  through, 
stepping into a large entry room with a couch and several  
chairs.  He saw Sara sitting on the couch, her legs folded 
under her.   She was wearing a simple summer dress which 
complimented her slim figure  and firm legs.  Her face was 
framed by her short brown hair and her large  green eyes 
flashed when they saw him.  
	"So it's you," she said, standing up and facing him, 
"our  snooping janitor."  
	"Yep," Jim said, "now why don't we go somewhere 
where we can talk  business."  	
	Glaring at him, she motioned him to follow her into her 
living  room, where she sat down on a cushioned chair and 
motioned him over to  the couch.  Things might not go as 
well as she planned, she thought,  seeing in Jim a tough 
customer.  Still, he was a man, and men could be  led around 
by their dicks.  
	Jim sat down on the couch and looked over his prize; 
boy but he  was going to enjoy himself.  
	"What do you want, Mr. Parker," she said sharply.
	"Well, Sara," he drawled, "I don't want just one thing, I 
want  several things...""Go on," she interrupted. 
	"Well," he continued, "I think right now I'd like $200 
cash."  
	He watched, amused, as she stood up stiffly and went 
down the hall to a  back room.  She returned with two $100 
bills and handed them to him,  saying, "Is that all?"  
	"Noooo," he dragged out the word as he put the money 
into his  pocket, "I think that now I want you to take off your 
clothes."   
	Sara gave a little start.  She had expected something 
like this,  in fact had been counting on it, but was taken 
aback by his bluntness.   Without saying a word, she began 
stripping in a workmanlike fashion, a  frown making her 
pretty face look severe.  
	When she was standing before him naked he said, 
"Now put your  arms over your head and turn around, 
slowly."  He was thoroughly enjoying  himself now.  He had 
this cunt right where he wanted her and he was going  to 
take advantage of it.  For now he would just give her some 
good  fucking--she'd probably even enjoy it--and save the 
rough stuff for  later; but the rough stuff would come, for he 
just didn't want to fuck  her, he wanted to break her, to make 
her his very own white slave.   
	"Lay on your back and start diddling yourself, Sara, 
and make it  good," he commanded, smiling.  
	Sara didn't like this, she didn't like it at all.  She liked to  
be in control, but here she was at the mercy of this black son 
of a  bitch.  She hoped he at least knew how to fuck so she 
could salvage  something out of this.  If he didn't, she would 
just have to pretend--she  knew she could make it so that he 
wouldn't be willing to give her up.   Then maybe she could 
get that tape from him and then she'd tell him what  she really 
thought of him.  
	Well, there was nothing she could do about it now, so 
she laid  down on the hardwood floor and spread her legs.  
"Like this?" she asked,  running her fingers gently across 
her labia and rubbing her clit with  her other hand.  
	"Ya ya, that's good," Jim said.  Boy that cunt sure had a 
lot of  practice rubbing herself, he could tell.  Watching her, 
he began to  strip.  He could see her watching him, and 
noticed that the bitch had  started getting into it.  Well, she 
was going to get it, all right, he  thought as he pulled off his 
underwear, releasing a thick 8' hard-on.     
	He smiled as he saw her eyes widen at the sight of his 
cock, "A  little bit better than those pansies you've been 
fuckin', huh bitch?" he  laughed and knelt between her legs, 
knocking her hands away roughly  grabbing her mound, 
jamming two fingers up her twat.  
	She gasped as she felt his fingers force their way into 
her.  She  was glad she lubricated up so easily, so it didn't 
hurt.  She hated this,  hated being told what to do and called 
a bitch by a man she didn't  choose, but she knew she was 
going to enjoy it--she couldn't help  herself, she was already 
turned on.  She just hoped he knew how to use  that monster 
cock of his.  
	He pulled his fingers out, satisfied he wasn't going to 
get a dry  ride, and fell heavily on top of her, smiling directly 
into her face.  He  pressed his cock against her now slick 
labia and pressed his lips against  hers, kissing her roughly, 
loving the feel of her firm body under his.   
	She opened her mouth for his kiss and eagerly 
accepted his  tongue.  The heat of his mouth spread through 
her body, and his cock  rubbing up and down her labia sent 
tingles up and down her spine.  He  knew how to kiss, that 
was for sure, and she began grinding her hips  against his, 
feeling pleasure shoot out from her clitoris as she rubbed  it 
against him.  
	He felt her mouth turn hungry against his, her tongue 
darting  past his into his mouth, her hips grinding against 
him.  He fenced  tongues for a minute and then slowly slid 
his cock into her, hearing her  gasp at the penetration.  
Keeping his lips locked on hers, he began to  slowly pound 
his cock in and out of her, feeling her pussy tight and warm  
around his shaft.Oh god that was good, she thought as his 
cock slid into her.  She  lay there for a minute, gasping out 
her pleasure into his mouth as he  began slowly pounding 
her with his cock.  She came almost immediately,  and, 
ripping her mouth away from his, cried out.  She quickly 
kicked her  legs up and wrapped them around the small of 
his back, and began rocking  under him.  
	He felt her cunt spasm around his cock as she came, 
and bore down  when she ripped her face from his and cried 
out, wrapping her legs around  him.  _HE_ was fucking her, 
not the other way around.  He had to admit,  though, she was 
one good fuck; no wonder those kids didn't last longer  than 
a minute or two.  He bore down, using the full weight of his 
body to  drive his cock into her, achieving a brutal rhythm 
with her rocking,  shaking body.  
	Oh god he could fuck, she thought, her nails sending 
furrows  across his back as she came again, now grunting in 
time with his  thrusts.  "Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh, Aaahhhggg!" she 
went as she came again,  beginning to lose control of her 
body.  
	She was going wild beneath him, her voice kining as 
she achieved  orgasm after orgasm, her nails digging into his 
back, her thighs trying  to crush his waist, her cunt spasming 
around his cock, squeezing and  milking it until the pressure 
in his balls boiled over, sending streams  of cum into her 
sucking pussy.  
	He lay on top of her for a minute, feeling his cock 
soften  within her.  She had stopped bucking shortly after he 
came, and was now  lying exhausted beneath him.  He had 
waited a long time for this, and she  was everything he had 
dreamed of and more.  
	Rolling off of her, he picked up her dress and wiped off 
his dick  with it.  She stared lazily up at him and then rolled 
onto her elbow and  watched him as he dressed.  
	"Is that it, big boy?" she taunted, running her free hand 
lewdly over  her body.          
	For tonight," he grunted.  "Oh, and by the way," he 
said,  pulling out a folded sheet of paper from his pocket, 
"here are some  ground rules you had better follow."  With 
that he left, leaving her  frowning at the folded piece of paper 
lying in front of her.


Chapter 1.3


	Achilles Brown spent all night Tuesday developing the 
photos he  had taken of Amy Sanders.  Beautiful, hot, oh so 
great he thought as he  pulled each one out of solution.  The 
black dress had been a good choice  for her--it contrasted 
nicely with her pale skin.  She was more  beautiful, sexier, 
than he had imagined; he only hoped he could make this  
blackmail scheme work:  he wanted her, bad. 
	Amy went to sleep that night, her window open as 
commanded,  dreading his return that evening.  Thankfully 
she was not awaken in the  middle of the night with more 
demands, and she woke up confused and  disoriented.  She 
still didn't know what that snooping rat wanted.  She  didn't 
have that much money, and although she would be willing to 
part  with all of it, Achilles didn't seem to really want it.  She 
suspected  him of having designs on her body--she was 
slightly revolted by the  thought--given that he had taken 
somewhat revealing pictures of her and  his decree that she 
wear no pants, only skirts and dresses.  If that was his  goal, 
she thought, he could forget it; she would turn herself in 
before  she submitted to his advances.  He must know that, 
she thought, and that  is what confused her.  What was his 
game?   Better not to think about it  now; just wait and watch 
and see if she could somehow get out from under  his 
thumb. 
	Wednesday at school, Achilles decided a policy of 
avoidance was  best; he didn't want to raise anybodies 
suspicions, and he certainly  didn't want to inconvenience 
Amy, yet.  He had planned their after-school  activities last 
night, and all day they occupied his thoughts.  He had  big 
plans for Amy, big plans.  He ran them through his mind time 
and time  again, hoping that he could pull them off.  He was 
glad that Jim had  offered him use of Ms. Ellsworth, Sara to 
him now he smiled, since he  would certainly have to use her 
to relieve himself, so he wouldn't force  things with Amy. 
	The next day at school, Amy was glad Achilles seemed 
to be  avoiding her.  Wearing an ankle length skirt and a 
bulky sweater, she was  distracted the entire day, trying to 
puzzle out Achilles and his  motivations.  Her friends, though 
more acquaintances than friends, figured  it was due to her 
recent breakup with the hunk of the school, and just  
gossiped knowingly about her state of mind. 
	Achilles skipped his last period class again that day, 
and  prepared his planned reception of Amy deep in the 
orange groves.  It was  nothing particularly bad, he thought 
to himself, but it was quite a  mindfuck.  He needed to keep 
her off balance, confused, in order to  really turn her to him, 
and this was just the first part of the plan.  
	Amy returned home right after school and found, as 
expected,  Achilles waiting for her in her room.  She wasn't 
happy to see him, and  made that quite clear, pointedly 
ignoring him until he spoke and held  something out to her. 
	"Here, I thought you might like to see some of these."
	She looked down and took a thick pad of prints from 
his hand, her  eyes widening as she saw herself, dressed 
sexily in her black sheer  dress, holding myriad poses before 
the camera.  Like out of some fashion  magazine, she 
thought, flipping through them, blushing a little at the  more 
provocative poses.  She caught herself as she saw him 
looking at her  with a little smile on his face, and resumed her 
previous cold manner.   He didn't seem to mind:  his smile 
broadened as he watched her put the  photos in the top 
drawer of her dresser. 
	He had hoped she would react positively to the 
pictures, and by  the expression on her face, he figured she 
was.  He watched as she caught  him smiling at her, and 
turned the ice on.  He didn't mind; it was time  to start 
anyway. 
	"Amy, join me outside.  I've arranged a little picnic for 
us  among the orange groves."  He said it in his most relaxed 
tone; he didn't  want to risk her refusing to go with him.  It 
was a simple request, but  he knew if he got her hackles up, 
even the fear of jail wouldn't make her  do what he wanted 
her to. 
	A picnic!  She glared at him.  She didn't want to go on a  
picnic with him, didn't want to even be with him.  What was 
he up to?   What did he want?  It was all so bizarre, like a 
waking nightmare.   Still, it shouldn't be too bad, and he still 
had those incriminating  photos."I'll be out in 5 minutes," she 
responded sharply.
	Achilles just smiled and climbed out the window and 
waited for  her at the base of the old oak tree.  She arrived 
shortly thereafter,  flipping her kinky, sandy blonde hair out 
of her eyes, and Achilles began  to lead her toward the 
orange groves. 
	Halfway there, walking across little used streets and old 
fields,  he said, "You know, Amy, I really don't want to 
inconvenience you too  much..." 
	"Inconvenience me!" she blurted out.  You stupid 
bastard, she  thought, "What do you think you're doing?  
You come into my life, holding  something I didn't even know 
about over my head, and demand money, and  pictures, and 
now a picnic!  What else do you have in store in your  twisted 
little mind!" she ended, practically shouting at him.  
	Achilles was a little bit taken aback by this outburst, but 
just  a little.  They had stopped and he stood lucking at her 
flushed face and  glaring light blue eyes, her posture one of 
defiance.  Well, he thought  to himself, here's the first 
obstacle to overcome. 
	"Did you really think you could get away with murder, 
Amy?" he  said slowly and strongly, seeing her defiance 
crumble as her face took on a  look of aghast horror.
	I... I... didn't..." she stammered.
	"Shut up!" he said forcefully, making her take a step 
back and killing  the denials on her tongue.  She looked 
down at her feet in consternation  and confusion.  "Now, 
Amy, you did something bad, something which you  should 
be in jail for right now.  _I_ am the one keeping you from jail,  
_I_ am the one protecting you.  In return all I ask is a little of 
your  time.  Isn't that better than being in jail?  Isn't it?" he 
demanded.  
	"Y... yes," she stammered, looking into his eyes.
	He nodded, satisfied, and turned, saying in a calm 
voice, "Now,  where were we?... oh yes..." 
	Amy walked along after him as he told her how he was 
going to  arrange their future meetings (an envelope on her 
dresser each Friday  detailing plans for the following week), 
all her anger gone.  She was  stunned:  murder?  Was she a 
murderer?  No, she wasn't, she had only been  driving the 
car... god it was so awful, the way he had turned on her.  She  
had always thought of him as a worm, a loser, but he had met 
her anger  powerfully, shattering it with his accusation.  She 
knew he was right, in  a way.  She was involved in a murder, 
she was responsible to some  degree.  Being with him 
certainly wasn't as bad as being in jail, and if  that was the 
only price she had to pay for her actions, she should be 
happy.  
	The calm that had come over him during the 
confrontation had left  him, and he was shaking from the 
reaction.  He tried to hide it, keeping  his arms against his 
side and increasing his pace, hoping Amy wouldn't  see.  
She was still following him, so he had won.  He felt exultation 
as  the shakes began to wear off:  her first resistance had 
been crushed.   From this point on, he thought, she would 
not challenge him again about  him forcing her to spend time 
with him.  He smile broke out on his face  as he strode into 
the orange grove, Amy trailing obediently behind him.  
	"Help me lay this out," he said as the reached the spot 
he had  chosen for the picnic, at the base of a tree among the 
even rows of  them.  Together they laid out the clothe and 
took the food from the  basket:  fried chicken, greasy and still 
warm; mashed potatoes with gravy  still steaming in a 
thermos; a small, homemade chocolate cake, moist and  
covered thickly with gooey chocolate frosting; and finally a 
bottle of  wine, its cork already pulled. 
	Unpacking the food, Amy noticed something strange.  
"Where's all  the utensils and glasses and stuff?" she asked. 
	"Damn," Achilles cursed, looking up at her from where 
he was  kneeling, "I forgot them.  Well, we'll just have to make 
the best of  it."  So saying, he motioned her to sit down 
beside him, not touching,  but very close nonetheless, and 
handed her a drumstick. 
	She took it daintily, not wanting to get her hands too 
greasy and  was surprised when he grabbed it away from 
her, saying, "No no, that  won't do.  I can't let you get your 
hands all dirty.  Let me."  With  that, he held the drumstick up 
against her lips. 
	At first she drew her head back, confused.  What was 
he doing?   She could feed herself fine, even without 
utensils.  Then it hit her, and  she groaned inwardly:  he 
wanted to hand feed her everything, like she  was some 
small child.  She thought for a moment about refusing, but  
something in the back of her mind was telling her that she 
deserved this,  that through this humiliation she could 
somehow atone for what she had  done.  She didn't like 
these thoughts, didn't believe them, but for now  they 
overcame her resistance. 
	Carefully, she moved forward toward the drumstick just 
before her  lips, and opened her mouth.  She felt the warm, 
greasy skin of the meat  against her lips, and she opened her 
mouth wider, sliding her lips over  the drumstick until her 
teeth found purchase in the meat.  She bit down,  feeling 
grease come off around her mouth, and pulled her head 
back, chewing.Achilles watched her closely as her lips 
closed over the meat.   He felt his penis swell as he watched 
her--luckily he had worn loose  pants--and he imagined her 
mouth closing over his cock.  He kept the  drumstick near 
her mouth until she had finished it, making sure her mouth  
became smeared with grease.  He felt a rush of power as she 
looked at  him with her pale blue eyes, chewing the last bite, 
her mouth glistening  with chicken grease.  He had planned 
this, to humiliate her by forcing  her to eat from his hands, 
and it had worked.  Confident now, he poured a  generous 
amount of gravy over the mashed potatoes. 
	"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked, licking some of 
the grease  from her lips.  She knew what she must look like, 
and was blushing  furiously.  This was one of the most 
embarrassing things that had ever  happened to her. 
	"I'm not hungry," he answered, scooping up some 
potatoes and  gravy on his fingers and presenting them to 
her. 
	She knew what he wanted and was committed; she 
lowered her head  and used her lips to bring the potatoes 
into her mouth, where she quickly  swallowed them.  They 
felt warm against her lips and face, and she  glanced up at 
him when all that was left was the potatoes covering his  
fingers.  He nodded and smiled at her and she took three of 
his fingers  into her mouth, sucking the food from them.  She 
ran her tongue between  them to make sure she got 
everything, and then the sucked off the last  finger. 
	As he felt her suck his fingers into the warm cavity of 
her  mouth, what felt like and electric jolt traveled from his 
fingers to his  groin.  He almost moaned at the sensation of 
her tongue between his  fingers, and couldn't take his eyes 
off her lips as it sucked in his  finger, cleaning it of food.  It 
was wild; he had never felt anything  like it before. 
	She pulled her head away when she had finished, and 
turned to him  as he reached for a bottle of wine.  She 
watched as he poured a little  into the cup of his hand and 
offer it to her.  There was something so  degrading about her 
situation, about being fed like this, that brought  panic 
wheeling up in her gut.  She fought it down as she slurped 
the wine  from his hand, and looked at him again.  What was 
he doing to her?  It  was like some sensuous dream, with him 
silently feeding her, her lips and  mouth tingling from the 
slick feel of food and the salty taste of his  skin.  She moved 
to drink again from his hand two more times, each time  
feeling something warring within her.  Some basic instinct 
told her to  run, to escape from this, but her mind told her to 
stay, forced her to  remain seated beside him, eating from his 
hand.  It was terrible, both  sensual and terrifying. 
	Achilles fed her the rest of the food, reveling in the 
sensations  her mouth brought to his hands, the power this 
simple act of feeding  conveyed to him.  His penis throbbed 
in his pants as he watched her chew  the last of the chicken 
her face greasy and smeared with mashed potatoes  and 
chocolate cream.  He reached over with a toilette and wiped 
her face  clean; she did not resist, and he wallowed in it, in 
her sitting docilely  there, letting her control her, dominate 
her.  Time for the next step, he  thought, wiping off her chin. 
	"Tell me about yourself," he said, sitting back and 
opposite her.  
	She looked at him for a minute, a frown crinkling her 
brow,  "What?" she asked softly."About your plans:  what 
college you're going to, what you want  to be, your politics, 
that type of stuff." 
	She didn't understand; she was pretty numb from the 
feeding, and  shook her head to clear her senses.  What was 
this all about?  He wanted  to know about her?  She didn't 
know what to do, but what could she do but  go along with it, 
just like she had gone along with his other demands.   She 
almost felt like crying; she had no control left. 
	She began to answer, softly, hesitatingly, but was soon 
drawn out  by his questions, by his gentle, inquisitive desire 
to know.  She  couldn't look at him--she was still too 
humiliated by the feeding--but  she began to talk about 
herself, where she wanted to go to college, what  she wanted 
to be; what teachers she liked, what subjects interested her;  
who she liked, who she didn't and why.  She talked for about 
forty five  minutes, prompted throughout by him, always 
seeming to know what to ask  to keep a thread alive, before 
he said, "Let me walk you home."That night, back in her 
room, Amy pondered over what had  happened.  She thought 
she had gotten over her part in the crime, but  some part of 
her, some deep hidden recess, must still feel guilt.  How  else 
could she explain her reaction to Achilles' accusation?  She 
was  amazed and ashamed that she had let him hand feed 
her like some infant,  and disgusted that she had actually 
taken his fingers into her mouth.   And then to tell him all 
about herself!  It was too horrible.  She wasn't  really in her 
right mind--he had taken advantage of a momentary 
weakness  of hers.  She was determined it wouldn't happen 
again.  At least she had  gained one thing from that 
afternoon:  she had some idea of what he  wanted.  He, she 
decided, wanted her to like him. 
	Achilles spent that evening looking at the pictures he 
had taken  of Amy, tantalizing himself with the thought of his 
final conquest.  He  knew he had caught her off-balance 
today, bless his luck, and knew what to  expect now.  There 
would be a backlash--she would stand up to him, assert  
herself.  Well, he thought, he knew how to handle it when it 
came:  today  the kind, gentle, understanding Achilles; 
tomorrow the hard, mean,  disciplinarian Achilles.  Carrot and 
stick, carrot and stick he thought  as he went to sleep.


Chapter 1.4


	Thursday at noon, Achilles Brown, eating his lunch, 
was quite  pleased with himself.  He had talked to Jim and 
had arranged to be picked  up at 7:40 near his house.  From 
there, they were going to pay a visit to  Ms. Sara Ellsworth.  
Achilles had been, and still was, a little nervous  about it, 
since it would be his first time with a woman, but Jim 
assured  him that he would take care of everything--all he 
need to do is lay back  and enjoy.  He certainly needed some 
relief, since his games with Amy  were exciting him so much 
he was having trouble holding back.  If he did  or said 
something wrong, he knew he would lose her. 
	His "date" with Sara was not the only reason for his 
smugness.   Like he had guessed, Amy Sanders had chosen 
today to test him:  she had  worn pants.  They were those 
loose, oversized, dirty pants which were  cinched at the 
waist, and that Achilles found so distasteful.  Worst of  all, 
though, was that he had forbidden her to wear pants.  He 
found  it amusing that she seemed to search him out and, 
while at a  comfortable distance talking to some friends, 
parade her defiance in  front of him.  The one time he had 
bothered to meet her eyes he had  only frowned and shaken 
his head sadly.  Well, he thought to himself, he  had planned 
for this, and knew exactly what he was going to do.  He  
would be finished by five at the latest, which would give him 
plenty of  time to prepare for Sara Ellsworth.  He savored the 
sound of her name in  his mind:  Ms. Sara Ellsworth. 
	Amy Sanders had decided that she had enough.  The 
Wednesday  picnic had been humiliating enough; she wasn't 
going to put up with  Achilles' bullying anymore, even if he 
did have those pictures of her.   He would never use them, 
she thought, he wanted to play his little games  with her too 
much.  Well, she wasn't going to have it any longer; she  
would put up with some things to keep him quiet, but she 
wanted some say  in the matter.  No more of this do as I say 
crap.  Still, she was  nervous; she wasn't sure what he 
_would_ do when he saw that she had  decided to ignore his 
demands and had worn pants.  She tried to catch his  eye all 
day at school, but the one time she did all he did was look  
glum and shake his head sadly, which just infuriated her 
more.  
	Deciding he couldn't skip his last period class again, he 
had to  run over to Amy's house as fast as he could to make 
sure he was there  before she was.  He was glad she had left 
the window to her room open,  since it made things easier for 
him.  He climbed into her room and  rummaged through her 
closet, picking out her sophomore cheerleading outfit  (she 
had quit, obviously figuring been there done that) and laying 
it on  the bed, large colored panties and all.  He then sat 
down on her bed and  waited for her to come home. 
	Amy went straight home after class, wanting to 
confront Achilles  as soon as possible.  She figured that she 
would find him in her room:  she  wasn't disappointed.  She 
strode purposefully into her room, dropped her  bag on the 
floor, swung the door shut, and faced him from across the  
room.   
	"Get out," she said assertively.
	"I don't think you want to do that."  He spoke softly, 
menacingly.  
	"I said, get out," her voice raising.
	"What's the matter, honey," a voice drifted up from 
downstairs.  
	"Nothing mother," Amy called, turning back to Achilles, 
who she  found standing.
	Before I go, you should listen," he said, looking her in 
the  eyes, stopping her before she could speak.  "At 5:30 my 
father comes home  from work.  He walks into the kitchen, 
swings his coat over the back of a  chair, puts his briefcase 
on the kitchen table, then picks up the mail my  mother and I 
leave on that table.  He immediately takes that mail and  
walks the four blocks to the mail drop--he calls it 
unwinding--and then  returns."  He paused.  "Right now, 
sitting on my kitchen table, are the  photos of you I have, in 
an envelope, stamped and addressed to the  police.  If I leave 
now, I don't think I'll go home 'till at least 7:00,  and by this 
time tomorrow, you'll be under arrest." 
	She had stood there listening to him, anger and fear 
warring  within her as he spoke.  She began shivering as 
despair began to banish  both as the stark reality of her 
plight became clear to her:  either do  as he wished, or go to 
prison. 
	He watched her carefully as he finished his speech:  
"Now, if you  do exactly what I say, I'll make sure to be home 
before five, and you  won't have to worry about a thing.  Do 
you understand?" 
	She stood there for a moment as he finished; she 
wanted to cry.   She nodded jerkily, and saw him motion to 
her old cheerleading outfit on  the bed. 
	"Put that on.  And don't worry, I won't watch."
	Not speaking, she picked up the uniform and went to 
the corner of  her room where she began to undress. 
	Turning around and grabbing a low chair, he sat down 
facing the  bed, his back toward her.  He let out a sigh of 
relief that his gambit  worked:  he had let her run and then 
pulled her back in.  He figured that  she thought he would 
never mail those photos in, and based her defiance  on that.  
He guessed that once he made it abundantly clear that she 
could  either obey him or have the police solve a murder, she 
would break.  She  had, and he felt a surge of emotion at his 
success.  The next part he was  going to enjoy immensely. 
	Amy finished dressing and turned around and faced 
Achilles, who  was sitting down with his back toward her.  
She walked over, despairing  at what he had in store for her, 
and stood between him and the bed.  
	Achilles looked at her standing before him:  her firm, 
shapely  legs almost completely revealed by the little mini; 
her breasts straining  against the sleeveless tee which was 
now a little to small for her; her  hair cascading around her 
graceful neck, white as alabaster.  He stared  at her for a 
moment, taking in her stunning beauty, and then 
commanded  her to turn on her stereo, and to turn it up 
rather loudly. 
	"Now stand to my right, facing me," he told her when 
she had  turned on the stereo.  "Kneel down." 
	Her head was now on the same level his was, and he 
looked hard  into her pale blue eyes which seemed to stare 
through him. 
	"You've been a bad girl, haven't you Amy?"
	He saw her lips move in a silent yes, but no sound 
came out.  
	"I said, you've been a bad girl.  Isn't that true?" he said 
louder.  
	Again her lips moved, and this time he heard a quiet 
"yes" come  from them.
	Lean over my legs.  More.  Put your hands flat on the 
floor on  the other side of me.  Over more.  Good.  Stop now." 
	As she climbed over his legs, she knew what he was 
going to do.   She started crying silently, tears leaking from 
her eyes.  She remembered  her boyfriend from freshman 
year--he was a big guy--telling her one day  that when he got 
together with a couple of his friends to beat on  someone, it 
wasn't the physical damage they did that was worst--it was  
the humiliation.  The guy couldn't stop them:  he was 
powerless, and  just had to take it.  That was the bad part, the 
helplessness, the  impotence, knowing there was nothing 
you could do.  She felt just like  that:  helpless, defeated. 
	His penis was rock hard as he positioned her over his 
thighs.   Her breasts were hanging over the chair to his left, 
her lower  chest/upper stomach pressed against his left 
thigh.  She was balancing  herself atop him with her hands 
and the balls of her feet.  Her back was  tilted down to his left, 
and he placed his hand between her shoulder  blades, 
holding her there.  She was bent at the waist, her upper 
thighs  pressing against his right thigh, thrusting her ass out 
and up.  With his  right hand he pushed up her cheerleading 
skirt until it bunched at her  waist, revealing the twin bulges 
of her ass through her red underwear.  
	"I'm going to spank you now," he said, rubbing his 
right hand  over her ass, "and you're going to thank me after 
each swat.  Do you  understand?" 
	He looked down at her head and smiled as she nodded, 
her hair  falling to the ground on either side of her face.  He 
thought her heard a  sob, but didn't really care:  she 
shouldn't have challenged him.  
	Laying across his lap in this obscene position, her ass 
thrust  high into the air, she began sobbing quietly.  It was all 
too awful.   Despair crowded in on her consciousness as she 
felt him carefully pull her  underwear around her upper 
thighs, and a cool draft ran over her exposed  asscheeks.  He 
cried out "One!" and a loud <SLAP> rung in her ears,  
coincidental with a stinging pain in her left ass cheek which 
caused her  to gasp through her sobs.  Horrified at what was 
happening to her, her  mind froze as he rubbed his hand 
firmly over where he had slapped, and  then called out 
"One!" again, and then <SLAP>. 
	He was about to burst through his jeans while he 
edged her  underwear down over her ass, leaving it 
encircling her upper thighs.   Looking at her twin ass cheeks, 
so smooth and white, firm and luscious,  he couldn't resist 
running his hand over their silky flesh.  Hearing her  sobbing, 
he called out "One!" and brought his hand down hard on her 
left  ass cheek, stinging his hand as well as earning a gasp 
from Amy.  He  rubbed her ass for a moment, waiting for her 
to thank him, and then  called out "One!" again and slapped 
her other cheek. 
	For a moment Amy was confused, and then 
remembered:  
	"Th... Thank... you" she sobbed out, loud enough to be 
heard over the music.  
	"Two!"   <SLAP>
	"Thank you."
	"Three!" <SLAP>
	"Thank you."
	By the tenth strike, her ass was a burning mass of pain 
and her  chest heaved in great sobs of pain and humiliation.  
He was striking her  hard, her body jerking in his lap each 
time his hand came down across her  ass.  The worst part, 
though, was the way he rubbed his hand all over her  ass 
between each blow, spreading a painful warmth throughout 
her ass.  
	He watched as his hand turned her ass a dull red, 
beautiful  against the creamy whiteness of the back of her 
thighs.  He especially  loved the way each blow sent her 
asscheeks quivering, the firm flesh  having given way before 
his hand.  His right hand was killing him,  smarting from the 
blows he had landed.  Five more, he thought, to make  fifteen, 
then he would stop.  He wanted so badly to just throw her 
over  the bed and fuck her--he quivered in desire at the 
thought--but he  resisted the urge; he couldn't afford to 
spook her.  He could get away  with a spanking, but if he 
tried anything more now, she was sure to freak  out on him.  
Oh well, he thought, this is good enough for now, rubbing  
his hand over her ass once again. 
	She heard him call out "Fifteen!" and felt the familiar 
pain of  another blow on her ass.  "Thank you," she replied 
automatically through  her sobs, her whole body tense and 
on edge, awaiting more punishment.   She jerked on his lap 
when she felt him pull her underwear gently over  her 
throbbing ass, and kept her head down--she couldn't look at 
him--as  he helped her to her knees and then onto her bed.  
She collapsed on it  and curled up into a fetal position, still 
sobbing out her pain and  humiliation.  Several hours later 
she fell asleep in the same position,  tears still coursing 
down her face.


Chapter 1.5


	Sara Ellsworth frowned as she looked over at the sheet 
of paper  Jim had left for her on her couch.  Things, she 
thought, weren't looking  good.  Sure he'd been a great fuck, 
better than she'd had in a long time,  but she obviously 
wasn't going to be able to use her "assets" to get him  under 
her thumb.  Maybe in time, she thought, but until then she 
would  have to put up with his crap.  Maybe it wouldn't be so 
bad, especially if  he could fuck like that. 
	She stood up, the sweat drying from her body and 
Jim's come  leaking out of her pussy, and, picking up Jim's 
paper, walked to the  bathroom to clean up.  On the way she 
cursed aloud as she read what Jim  had written.  She was to 
speak only when spoken to in his presence.  She  was to 
refer to him and anyone he chose as master or mistress--she 
didn't  like that at all, seeing his intentions all too clearly.  She 
was to  thank him after anything he did to her.  She was not 
to wear underwear.   She was never to wear pants, only tight 
shorts, skirts, and dresses.   Every evening that he set aside 
for them, she was to have dinner prepared  for him as well as 
$500 cash for him.  Every Friday evening from six  on would 
be for him, and that evening he would give her a list of dates  
and times the following week she was to service him. 
	She kept cursing as she read; she was to be his 
goddamn slave!   She trembled in rage as she stepped into 
the shower.  Tomorrow and  Friday he would return; she 
thought about killing him, but didn't think  she could get 
away with it.  If he pushed her too far, though...  Maybe,  she 
thought, she could use this letter to blackmail him?  But then 
they  would just both go to jail, and she certainly didn't want 
that.  She  stamped her foot in frustration and almost slipped 
in the shower.   Goddamn that bastard. 
	Jim picked him up that evening right on time.
	"You ready for a good fuck kid," Jim said.
	"I'm ready," Achilles answered, thinking of the 
spanking he had  given Amy earlier, her ass thrust before 
him, at the mercy of his hand.  
	"Let's go then!"  And they drove off toward Ms. Sara 
Ellsworth's home.  
	Hoping to speed the night along, Sara decided to wait 
for Jim in  the living room, naked.  She was quite comfortable 
doing so, nudity being  a usual occurrence with her, and 
watched tv while she waited.  She heard  the front door open 
and, looking at the clock, thought right on time.   She stood 
up, one knee still resting on the couch, and smirked as Jim  
walked into the living room, her hands on her hips. 
	"Hello, Sara," he said, smiling as he moved close to 
her, his  eyes devouring her naked form. 
	In return she eyed him.  She hoped all he wanted 
tonight was  another fuck, but somehow she doubted it.  She 
certainly wasn't going to  give him the satisfaction of being 
put out, though. 
	"What the fuck," she cried out, using her arms to cover 
her  privates and stepping back as she saw some high 
school punk step into the  room. 
	"Now now, Sara."  Jim, hulking over her, reached 
around her head  and grabbed the back of her neck in one 
huge hand, forcing her to stand  next to him so that Achilles 
could get a good look, "I've just invited a  friend of mine.  You 
see, he needed a piece of ass, and since you were  
available..." 
	"You fucking bastard!" she yelled, cut short by a 
stinging slap  across the face, sending her short brown hair 
flying about her head.  She  glared up at him with large, pretty 
eyes, and saw his face turn hard.  
	"Enough of that, you cunt," he growled, shaking her.  
"You're  already in enough trouble as it is, forgetting the 
rules."  Turning to  Achilles, he said "Come here kid."
	Achilles watched this interplay with a certain 
trepidation.  His  cock was threatening to burst out of his 
pants, and the sight of Ms.  Ellsworth--Sara--her lithe, clean 
body, her round, smooth breasts, her  strong thighs and 
legs, her narrow waist and flat stomach, her sweet,  doll-like 
face, all sent pangs of lust through him.  Her violent  reaction, 
though, caught him off guard, and he was glad Jim was 
there.   He walked over to Sara, not able to remove his eyes 
from her body, and  heard Jim introducing them. 
	"Sara, this is Achilles, he is going to be one of your 
masters  tonight.  Achilles, this is your new fuck-toy.  She'll 
do whatever you ask."  
	Sara started when she heard herself referred to as 
fuck-toy.  She  had always used others like that; she had 
always been in charge.  She  wanted to turn on Jim and 
scratch his eyes out, to hurt him, but one  enormous hand 
still lay on the back of her neck.  She shivered slightly  as she 
realized his strength:  there was nothing she could do.  So 
she  stood there, slight tingles running up and down her 
body as Achilles  ran his hands over her flesh, pinching and 
poking and caressing her while  Jim watched and leered. 
	Running his fingers over her body set his body tingling 
from head  to toe.  She didn't move as he circled her nipples 
with his finger, then  gently rolled them between his thumb 
and forefinger.  He ran his hands down  her sides, feeling the 
curve of her body, and down her legs, feeling  their strength 
and firmness.  He ran his fingers through her pubic hair  and 
felt a damp warmth radiating from between her legs.  Finally, 
he  grabbed both her nipples between his fingers and, 
looking directly into  her eyes, began slowly squeezing.  He 
saw defiance in her eyes, and then  pain suppressed, and 
finally, as he brutally smashed her nipples, she  gasped out 
in pain, her eyes falling away from his. 
	"Stop," she gasped, "please... please... let go."  Her 
hands were  on his wrists, knuckles white with their grip, her 
breasts distended out  into cones from her chest as she tried 
to bend away from the pain.   "Please... master... stop!" she 
finally cried, and sagged in relief when he  released his grip. 
	Panting with exertion, her nipples sore and tingling as 
she tried to  massage the pain away, she heard Jim say, 
"She's learning."  Fucker, she  thought, but didn't dare look 
up at him.  She watched sullenly as Jim sat  down in her 
armchair and Achilles leaned back against the couch, his 
legs  stretched out to their fullest. 
	"Okay, Sara, my little cunt," Jim said, "give the boy a 
blowjob.   And you better do some deep throating or you'll be 
in more trouble than  you already are." 
	Glaring at Jim, she knelt down between Achilles' legs 
and reached  for his pants.  Unbuttoning and unzipping 
them, she quickly pulled them  down his legs, not bothering 
to look at him.  As she looked up and  reached for his 
underwear, she started in surprise:  his cock was huge!   It 
looked obscene on his body, a 9", massively thick pole 
sticking out  from his scrawny form.  She couldn't help it:  
when that cock popped free  and flopped in front of her face 
she began to get excited.  She imagined  it in her cunt, 
driving her to wild orgasm after wild orgasm.  She wanted  to 
fuck this guy right now, but she couldn't--damn Jim. 
	She had always hated giving head, but had learned 
how to well,  since when she was in high school, all her older 
boyfriends had demanded  it.  In college, she had rarely done 
so, and had quickly dropped those  guys who had insisted.  
By now it was more of a control issue than  anything else, 
which is why she grimaced with distaste as she gripped his  
cock in one small hand and lowered her head until her lips 
touched it.  
	Achilles was in heaven.  He had never felt anything like 
this  before.  Her warm mouth engulfed the head of his cock 
and sent shivers of  pleasure down his body.  Her tongue 
was a little animal darting and  massaging his prick.  She 
bobbed her head up and down his cock, fondling  his balls 
with her hand, making him moan at the delicious sensations  
assaulting him.  Watching her, her lips stretched around his 
cock, her  hair falling across her face, he felt almost 
disassociated from his body,  the pleasure wa so intense. 
	She worked the head and top his shaft for a minute, 
rubbing  his inner thighs and fondling his balls, tasting his 
pre-cum salty and  sour upon her tongue.  She was hoping 
he would come:  her jaws  were already aching from taking 
his huge cock, and deep throating hurt,  and with this 
monster prick it would hurt more than usual.  She realized  it 
wasn't going to happen, and scooted closer to him, 
positioning herself  so she could ram his cock down her 
throat in one clean motion.  She  placed his cock as close to 
her throat as possible without gagging; Now! she  said to 
herself, and darted her head down hard.  She almost gagged 
as she  felt her throat stretch painfully around his 
cockhead--it felt like her  throat was tearing.  She sighed 
gratefully through her nose as his cock  popped into her 
throat, and she slid her head down until her nose was  
nesting in his pubic hair.  Her throat and jaws ached, but the 
sharp pain  of entry was gone, and it wouldn't be long now. 
	Achilles cried out when he felt his cock surge down 
Sara's  throat.  It was incredible, almost painful, and a brief 
dizziness  assaulted him.  He gripped her head in his hands 
and held her face  against his groin.  Slowly he began 
humping her throat in short jabs,  feeling each sensation as a 
burst of raw pleasure from his penis.  He  felt her hands on 
his, and let her move his hands to his thighs.   Releasing 
them, she began playing with his balls again, pressing and  
rubbing underneath them every now and then, sending chills 
up and down  his spine. 
	She began working in earnest now, bobbing her head 
up and down  the length of his cock rhythmically, using her 
tongue to scrape along the  underside of his penis.  Her 
throat ached as she tried to tease his  testicles to orgasm, 
hoping to end this quickly, but he didn't seem to be  losing it 
yet.  Her cunt was wet, she knew, as it always was when in 
the  presence of men, which was some relief.  She only 
hoped they would deign  to take care of her needs after she 
was finished servicing theirs.  
	He couldn't help himself as he moved his hands 
against the sides  of her face, feeling her cheeks as they slid 
back and forth on his cock.   She had been working him for 
almost five minutes now, and his whole groin  felt like it was 
going to burst with sensation.  It was almost painful,  what he 
was feeling, but he didn't want it to stop.  Suddenly the  
intensity increased, and he grabbed her head and slammed 
his hips into  her face, yelling aaaaahhhhhhgggg as he felt 
his dick jerk painfully in  her throat, spitting his come down 
into her stomach. 
	It felt like it lasted forever, him holding her face against 
his  pelvis, his spunk flowing down her throat.  Finally, 
though, he  relaxed, moaning softly, and she pulled back her 
head, popping his dick  out of her throat as is started to 
soften.  She gave it one last suck and  then sat back on her 
heels and looked at Jim. 
	"Now what," she said, licking her lips to clean them of 
her saliva.  
	Watching his bitch suck dick he could tell she knew 
what she was  doing.  The kid had a monster dong, but she 
handled it pretty good.  He  could also tell that she hated 
doing it, which just increased his  pleasure as he watched.  
Still, she was going to have to pay for breaking  the rules.  It 
should be fun, for him at least. 
	"Well, cunt, you just broke rule #1 for the fourth time 
tonight,  and rule #2 for the third time.  And I don't see my 
dinner or my money.  You  also forgot to thank Achilles there 
for letting you swallow his come."   He smiled wickedly and 
stood up.  "So, you have to be punished.  Follow  me."  With 
that he walked into her dining room, looking back to make  
sure she was following. 
	That son of a bitch she thought as she stood up, 
glancing down at  the still stunned form of Achilles.  She had 
played master/servant games  when she was young, but they 
had always been games, where she had some  modicum of 
control.  This was no game:  she _was_ his slave.  She  
followed him, remembering to say "Yes master" as she 
walked into her  dining room. 
	"Better.  Now bend over the table there.  Spread your 
legs; wider.   Good.  Grab the far end, and don't let go."  Jim 
smiled as he looked  down at her back and her ass.  She was 
bent over the dining room table,  her hips pressing against 
the edge, her legs wide apart, her hands  gripping the far 
edge, and twin firm hills of her ass thrust toward him.   He 
slowly slid off his belt, a thick leather strap, and doubled it 
up.  
	"You're going to get a taste of leather, bitch, on your  
backside.  I want you to keep count, and after each stroke, 
say 'thank  you master'.  Do you understand?" 
	"Yes master."
	"Good," he said, as he pulled back his arm and 
prepared to lay  into her.  He didn't use all his strength, but 
most of it, as he brought  the belt down.  A loud retort, as 
from a gun, echoed through the room and  an explosive 
"ug!" escaped from the schoolteacher as the belt landed.  
	"One," she choked out.  "Thank you master."
	As the belt landed again, her hips jerked forward, 
smashing her  mound against the edge of the table and 
sending a sharp flash of pain  through her ass.  "Ug!" she 
gasped out again, her hands tightening on the  edge of the 
table; she was determined not to cry out, but fuck it hurt  like 
a son of a bitch. 
	"Two.  Thank you master."
	God, he loved the way the belt left red welts across her 
ass and  the back of her thighs.  He wanted her to scream 
though, and she had so  far remained reasonably silent 
through eight blows.  He glanced up as he  saw Achilles 
wander in, and then raised his arm for another blow.Achilles 
lay still after Sara had finished, floating in a world  of 
pleasure.  When he had come, he had almost blacked out, 
little motes  of light drifting before his eyes.  Now a feeling of 
utmost relaxation  had overcome him, and he reveled in it.  
He was slowly brought out of  this state by the sounds 
coming from the other room:  a sharp  slapping/banging 
sound followed by a muffled "Thank you master."  He had  to 
get up and check this out.  Walking into the dining room, he 
saw his  schoolteacher bent over the table, her legs spread 
and the ass and the  back of her thighs reddened by the 
blows of the belt Jim held in his  hand.  As he watched, Jim 
brought the belt down again, striking her hard  across her 
ass. 
	She couldn't take anymore; oh god it hurt so much.  
Her whole ass  burned with a fiery pain, and she screamed 
as she felt the belt land  again, driving unbearable pain 
through her body. 
	"Nine," she sobbed out, her breathing coming hard.  
"Thank you master."<WHACK>"Aaaaaaahhhhhhgggggg!  
T... t... ten.  ...Thank you master."  
	Having gotten her howling, Jim was satisfied for the 
moment.  He  began rubbing his hands all over her ass, 
earning gasps of pain from her  as he mauled her bruised, 
tender flesh.She was so glad he stopped.  She didn't know if 
she could stand  even one more blow.  She gasped out in 
pain as he began to roughly  massage her ass--it was so 
sensitive every touch hurt.  He continued  massaging her 
ass, and the pain slowly left her, turning into a spreading  
warmth across her backside.  She moaned in pleasure and 
thrust back her  hips as he slid a finger into her dripping 
snatch. 
	"I think this slut enjoyed it, didn't you cunt?"
	It was true; she was hot now.  The whipping hadn't 
excited her,  but his hands, massaging the pain into a warm 
pleasure, turning agony  into lust, had.  Right now she 
wanted a cock, and ground her hips forward  against the 
table, feeling an orgasm building as she mashed her clit  
against the edge of the table. 
	"Yes master," she whimpered out, engrossed in her 
own pleasure.  
	Suddenly he removed his hands and grabbed the belt 
again,  whipping her quickly and viciously. 
	<WHACK> <WHACK> <WHACK> <WHACK> <WHACK> 
<WHACK>
	She howled as the first blow landed on her ass, pain 
shooting  through her, met by the pleasure from her clit as 
she jerked it forward  hard against the edge of the table.  
Before the next blow could land, she  came, hard, an 
incredible mix of sensations overwhelming her, making her  
body buck along the table as she felt indescribable 
sensations flood her  body.  The blows kept coming, striking 
her ass and legs, sending her  orgasm higher and higher, 
leaving her screaming and twisting on the  table.  It was too 
much; she had never had an orgasm like this before.   It was 
so intense, so overpowering, so uncontrollable.  He had 
stopped  whipping her and his hands were gripping her ass, 
his cock rubbing  against her still spasming vagina.  With a 
single thrust he plunged in,  and she felt another orgasm pile 
upon her raw nerves, cramping her guts  and sending more 
waves of pleasure through her entire body.  Her toes and  
fingers curled and her whole body tensed and jerked as he 
thrust several  times into her.  He then pulled out and waited, 
watching as her body  slowly quieted down, finally stopped, 
collapsed against the table.  
	Achilles watched Sara orgasm, amazed at the force of 
her  convulsions.  He imagined Amy stretched over the table, 
his cock  skewering her after a whipping, making her come 
again and again.  His  cock was once again painfully erect as 
he watched Jim pull out and stand  behind the flopping 
schoolteacher, his cock glistening with her juices.  
	Jim knew he had the cunt when he watched her come.  
Fucking cunt,  he thought as he strapped her again and 
again, bruising her jerking body  with his belt.  He wanted to 
fuck her ass, to show her real pain and make  her love it, 
wanted to shove it up until it came out her throat.  He  needed 
some lube though, so thrust himself into her sopping cunt,  
reveling in his power over her as he felt her come again, her 
pussy  spasming around his pole.  He gave her a few good 
jabs then pulled out  and waited for her orgasms to die 
down:  he wanted her to feel every inch  of his cock as it 
stretched her rectum to its breaking point.  
	Sara lay across the table, exhausted, her body still 
tingling  from her orgasms.  Then she felt large hands grab 
her ass cheeks and she  moaned softly, feeling Jim's cock 
pressing against her anus.  She  couldn't think straight, was 
confused and disoriented by the powerful  orgasms which 
had coursed through her body.  She managed to moan out a  
"Noooooo..." as she felt his enormous cock push insistently 
at her small  nether opening.  She could feel her anus 
stretching, stretching, pain  lancing into her guts as the head 
popped through into her ass."Aaaaahhhhhggggg!" she 
cried, arching her back, her hands  scrabbling against the 
tabletop.  She collapsed, panting and moaning in  pain, her 
head bouncing once from the hard surface of the table.  After 
the  intensity of the orgasms, the intensity of this terrible pain 
seemed  doubled, tripled.  Her mind couldn't grasp anything 
except the pain, the  horrible pain in her ass. 
	Jim grimaced as he stabbed his cock through her anus 
into her  guts.  She was so damn tight it hurt, but just that 
one scream made it  worth it.  He thrust forward again, 
managing to sink half his dick  between her tender 
asscheeks. 
	Sara felt something tear, and an ugly warmth spread 
through her  ass.  She was moaning now, her mind blinking 
on and off like a strobe  light as wave after wave of agony 
sent her to oblivion and pulled her back  again. 
	One final vicious thrust and he was all the way in, his 
hips  setting her asscheeks quivering.  What a tight bitch, he 
thought, his  mind reveling in the power he had over this 
cunt.  He slid his cock back  out and noticed the sheen of 
blood on it.  All the better, he thought,  more lube, as he 
thrust brutally back into her ass. 
	Sara lay there and moaned as he pulled his cock back, 
feeling  like it was dragging her insides with it.  Her anus was 
still an agony of  pain, but it was subsiding.  She was fully 
conscious now, and through her  exhaustion and pain she 
cursed that bastard.  He couldn't just fuck her;  he had to 
have her ass.  She clenched her teeth around the sounds of 
pain  coming from her mouth and tried to grip the smooth 
surface of the table  near her head.  Motherfucker, she 
thought each time he thrust forward,  bringing a grunt of pain 
through her clenched teeth. 
	He started working up into a rhythm, feeling the 
delicious  sensations of her gripping ass spread through his 
loins.  This was the  way to fuck, he thought, with some white 
cunt at your mercy, loving every  abuse he could heap on 
her.  Thinking he would love to see her come with  his cock 
in her ass, he grabbed her hips and lifted her off her feet,  
driving her hips and her mound hard into the table with 
another thrust.  
	Lifted off her feet, she felt her clit slam into the table,  
sending an incredible sensation of pain and pleasure 
through her.  The  room dimmed and she cried out.  Again, 
and another wave of darkness  passed over her, mixing the 
sensations in her ass and clit into one  unbearable strain.  
Again and she began to quiver and shake on the table,  her 
voice rising into a keening wail.  She didn't know what was 
happening  to her, the brief, powerful flashes of pleasure and 
pain from her clit  absorbing the now bizarre pain and 
pleasure in her ass to send her into a  daze of overwhelming 
sensation.  Again and again and again he drove is  cock into 
her ass and her clit against the table.  Again and again and  
her body began to flop uncontrollably on the table, in the grip 
of the  most powerful orgasm in her life, every nerve on fire 
with near  unbearable pleasure as she came and came. 
	Jim grunted as he pounded his cock into her ass.  He 
couldn't  hold out for much longer:  his balls were aching 
and his whole lower body  tingling with intense pleasure.  
When the cunt began flopping and  screaming on the end of 
his cock, her ass muscles spasming around his  dick, he 
came, shooting wad after wad of come deep into her bowl.  
He  groaned as he shot into her, relishing the sensations 
assaulting his  body, and the knowledge that he had broken 
the cunt.  He kept  himself inside her, softening slowly, for 
long minutes, watching her  thrashing as her orgasms 
refused to release her from their intensity.   Slowly though 
she came down, her body draped over the table, covered 
with  sweat, exhausted.  He slapped her on the ass and 
pulled out.  He wasn't  finished with her yet:  Achilles still had 
to lose his virginity.
	Sara lay collapsed on the table, her mind a dreamlike 
haze.  She  had never been racked like that by two orgasms 
in her entire life, and  she had many orgasms.  They were 
incredible, the pain having only  seem to add to her final 
pleasure.  Now she was exhausted, limp across  the table, 
yet strangely on edge.  Sex, of any type, usually relaxed her,  
but she was tense, jumpy, her body shaking as if from an 
adrenaline and  endorphine high.  She didn't resist as she 
was pulled off the table to  land on her knees, and was 
turned around by the shoulders until she was  looking right 
at Jim's prick, slicked with blood and slime. 
	The smell coming from his package brought her to her 
senses, the  smell of blood and shit.  He grabbed her hair and 
growled at her, "Clean  it up good, whore, and don't forget 
my balls."  She felt a slight nausea  at the thought, but, at this 
point, she had no will.  She opened her  mouth and took his 
flaccid dick in, the coppery taste of blood and the  foul taste 
of her own bowels coming off on her tongue.  Obediently 
she  licked his testicles clean of her liquids after sucking his 
prick clean,  and then stood and looked up, still dazed, into 
his smiling face."What do we say now, cunt?" 
	"Thank you, master," she whispered through full, 
swollen lips.  
	"What did you say?  I didn't hear that."
	"Thank you master," she said hoarsely, finally 
regaining some balance.  
	Achilles had watched Ms. Ellsworth's second orgasm 
with  amazement:  she actually liked to be fucked up the ass.  
Stroking his  cock, he wondered if Amy would like it too.  He 
knew he would try it with  her, whether she liked it or not, but 
he was hoping she would.  He  thought the idea of having 
her lick her own shit off Jim's cock was an  especially good 
touch."Achilles," Jim commanded, "lie down on the floor."
	Achilles hurried to obey, removing his shirt and getting  
comfortable on the carpeted floor. 
	Jim turned to Sara, whom he was still holding by the 
arm, and  said, "Climb on, cunt, and give him your best 
fucking, and maybe I won't  hurt you anymore tonight." 
	Sara looked down at Achilles, holding his monster 
prick sticking  obscenely straight up from his body, and 
stepped over to him.  She was  worn out, tired, but, she 
realized, startled, she _wanted_ another fuck.   Not the brutal 
pounding Jim had given her, but a nice, relaxing fuck to  
calm her, to ease the ache in her ass and relax her nerves.  
She  straddled him and looked down into his excited, 
apprehensive face and  lowered herself slowly onto his 
penis.  "Oh god," she murmured, it felt  so good, massaging 
her vagina, pressing softly against her cervix.  She  sat of 
him for a moment, clenching and unclenching her vaginal 
muscles,  hearing him gasp for a moment.  Then she leaned 
over and kissed him  softly on the mouth, running her tongue 
over his lips, feeling him start  and then open his mouth to 
receive her. 
	Achilles moaned as she lowered herself onto him.  
Jesus, he  thought, pleasure radiating from his groin across 
his body, this is so  _good_.  He gasped when he felt her 
muscles massaging his cock,  thoroughly enjoying the 
sensations assaulting him.  He watched her as she  sat 
astride him, her lithe body covered in sweat, her legs split 
over his  body, her breasts standing full and firm from her 
body, her head back and  her eyes closed as she worked his 
cock with her pussy.  He watched as she  opened her green 
eyes and looked down at him, her face a mask of weary  
contentment, beautiful, perfect, framed by beautiful brown 
hair.  She  bent over, and he felt a little jolt through his body 
as her breasts came  against his chest, and then mashed 
against them as she brought her mouth  against his.  He 
started, as if touched by a live wire, for that's what  it felt like, 
when she kissed him, running her tongue across his lips.   
He moaned again and opened his mouth, his pleasure 
centers doubling at  his crotch and his mouth as she 
pressed her lips hard against his and  explored his mouth 
with her tongue. 
	So good, so good she kept thinking as she swirled her 
hips  around, feeling his cock slide around inside her 
grasping sheath, her  mouth locked to his, sending pleasure 
bolting through her body.  She  teased him, and herself, for a 
few minutes, enjoying the leisurely pace  of this fucking, 
grateful to hear his moans and gasps meet hers.  
	For long minutes she had worked him, and he had lain 
passive  beneath her, his passion and pleasure slowly 
building within him.   Suddenly she changed tactics, lifting 
her hips until his cock was almost  pulled from her pussy 
and then slowly impaling herself again.  He moaned  into her 
mouth at this change, intense sensations assaulting his cock 
and  building, slowly but surely, in his groin.  He wrapped his 
arms around  her slender body and pulled her head hard 
against his, sending his tongue  for the first time into her 
mouth.  His whole body felt full to bursting  with sensation; it 
was incredible, like when she had given him head, but  more, 
much more, intense. 
	When he grabbed her in his arms and began to jerk his 
hips  against her, she picked up the pace.  She could feel an 
orgasm building  in her, from deep in her stomach, and she 
wanted it, wanted it so badly.   She began humping faster, 
releasing his mouth and burying her head in his  shoulder.  
She felt it close... close... she sucked hard on his neck... 
NOW!  and she cried out as she came, soft pleasure washing 
her body clean of  her previous orgasms, feeling his cock 
jerk inside her and spill its  seed, relaxing her, bringing her 
down from her high.  So good, she  thought, so good. 
	Achilles was close.  He knew that by the darkness 
which was  clouding his vision, the darkness which told of 
the most intense  sensations he had ever felt, the most 
intense pleasure.  It almost hurt  as he felt it build, quicker 
now, in his groin and penis.  He gasped as  she released his 
mouth and breathed hot air onto his neck, sending chills  of 
pleasure down his body.  He could feel her supple strength 
above him  as she worked toward her own orgasm, exciting 
him even more:  she was  going to pop, and it was his cock 
which was causing it!  Suddenly her  warm mouth was 
against his neck, sucking, sending flashes and sparks  
across his vision as he burst, his cock jerking inside her as it 
filled  her with his come.  She was quivering an top of him as 
he came, and then  they both relaxed, collapsing into each 
other as they came down from  their orgasms. 
	Jim had demanded that she give him a blow job before 
they left,  but Achilles was worn out.  He sat on the couch, 
thinking that this had  been the greatest night of his life, and 
anticipating many similar  nights, with her and with Amy.  
When they left, Achilles told Jim he  wanted to be there 
tomorrow too, and Jim teased him about his  experiences.  It 
was good to have your very own sex slave, Achilles thought. 

	Sara, after they had left, showered and then 
collapsed in bed,  her body exhausted but her mind a swirl 
of confusion.  She didn't  understand, she couldn't explain, 
her reactions that night.  She had  always enjoyed sex, 
with pretty much anybody, but she had never had  
orgasms like she had tonight.  It scared her a little that she 
had  responded so willingly to Jim's cruelty, and it shamed 
her a little that  he seemed to know that she would get off 
on it.  She remembered, in high  school, when one of the 
teachers she had seduced had introduced her to  "the 
scene", as he called it.  It was a group of people playing  
sadomasochistic games, and she had willingly submitted.  
She had liked  the sex, but the games hadn't done it for 
her:  they were all so  structured, and, besides, she could 
always just tell them to stop.  With  Jim, it wasn't a game:  
she truly was his sex slave now.  She hadn't  wanted to be 
blackmailed into fucking him, but had figured that she 
might  be able to gain some control of him through his 
cock; it had still been a  game.  Not anymore.  She was his 
and whoever he decided to give her too.   What worried 
her most, though, was she was beginning to think that 
she  didn't mind.


Chapter 1.6


	Jim and Achilles returned the next day, Friday, to Sara's 
house. This time she made sure she was prepared, 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 overwhelmed, 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, 
although 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 spanking. 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 something.  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 anything 
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, looking 
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 doleful 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  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 coming 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 virginity 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 enjoyed 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 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.  Everything 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 bending 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, releasing 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 enema, 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.  Laughing 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 
assaulting 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  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 forever.  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.


Chapter 1.7


	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 
before 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 duffle bag 
full of bondage and  sadomasochistic 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 
outfit 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  repeatedly for over three hours, then let her 
go home to collapse  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 duffle  bag, looking, she thought, morose.
	"Sit down," he said, following suit and putting on his 
most  depressed face.  He had rehearsed the following 
words over and over in  his head all night; he hoped he 
wouldn't blow it.  "You know, Amy, I've been  thinking 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 thinking, 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 forward 
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 practically 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 disconsoletly, 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 whatever 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 duffle 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.  Punishment was  punishment, but this was 
too much.  But whenever 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 
un-cinched 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 gorse, 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  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 ecstacy.  
The feeling  of her tongue around his toes was sensational, 
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 indentations 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, increasing 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 concentrated  on the 
pain in her breasts.  Slowly she rubbed 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 convulsively  
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 sensations 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 satisfaction 
and lust,  and felt victory as she came violently 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 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.


Chapter 1.8


	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  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, collared, 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 vestige 
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 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.  
Thinking 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.  
	Then 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  whatever 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 
viscously 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 unexpected 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 somewhat, 
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  circumcised 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 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 assaulting 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, feeling 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 overwhelming, 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 ass 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 giggled  again as she thought about it.


Chapter 1.9


	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 concentrate 
on  anything.  She had spent the last few days reading 
various bondage books  and magazines and watching 
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 immediately 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, prepared 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-eagle 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 focussed 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 blowjob?  
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  apprehension.
	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 her raped by three  
boys.  It had shattered her life; she could not forgive that.  It 
was  payback 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-eagle, 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 attention 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 old's 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 
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 viscously, 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 beating 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 pridefully, 
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 shouting 
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  stainless 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 between 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 holding 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, 
whereupon 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  burning 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 
sarcastically, 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  satisfactory 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 kicking her nipples, breasts, clit, and  cunt as the 
electricity 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 ecstacy, before darkness clouded her 
vision and she fell  heavily against her bonds, hanging from 
her arms in oblivion.


Chapter 1.10


	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 ecstacy 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 standing 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 ecstacy 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  invitation, 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 degradation 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 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