textfiles/sex/EROTICA/S/shannon.txt

Archive-name: Violent/shannon.txt
Archive-author: Honi Soitqui Malypense
Archive-title: Teaching Shannon


The following story is purely fictional.  It is copyright (c) 1993 by its
author, Honi Soitqui Malypense, who grants to the public the right of free
replication for non-commercial purposes only, provided that no changes are
made and that this notice is retained.  All other rights are reserved.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

                                  WARNING

This story contains profanity, sex (m/f), domination of a girl by a man, and
violence.  If you do not enjoy such things, please do not read it.  If you
do, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.


                            TEACHING SHANNON

Chapter One


     When I met Shannon Brien I was twenty-three, had just gotten my M.S.,
and was teaching in a community college while I worked on my Ph.D.
Shannon was in a College Algebra class I taught in my first Spring
semester, and I noticed her as soon as I entered the room.  I had broken
up with my graduate-school girlfriend some time earlier, so I was very
vulnerable to Shannon's very obvious charms; so vulnerable, in fact,
that my cock actually stiffened slightly when I saw her in the front row.

     She was wearing what she usually wore: a tight, light-colored shirt
with a scoop neck, a skirt just a little shorter than the current fashion,
stockings, and dark pumps.  Her waist was narrow, her hips broad; her
breasts were large---too large to be really firm---and swayed gently
when she moved.  Her face was a standard-issue girl's face, except that
her nose was a little shorter, and her mouth a little larger, than most.
Her hair was a yellow blonde color, a little thin, and it could have been
cut better.   She wore no makeup except around her eyes.  Of course, I
saw only her chest and face above the desk, but it was enough; everything
about her set off every sexual alarm I had.

     Her presence in class made it hard to concentrate.  I was aware of the
necessity for a public speaker to look around at his audience, but she
made it difficult: if I looked near where she sat, I looked only at her,
and if I didn't look, I ignored a whole section of the class.  I spent
far too much energy trying not to see her.  After a while I succeeded,
at least partially, unless she asked a question; then I had my work
cut out trying to keep my eyes on her face.  I wondered how obvious
my attraction was to the rest of the class; certainly the boys must
have felt at least some of what I felt.  I was always relieved when
I could turn my attention elsewhere.  For her part, she never showed
any sign of discomfort, or of being attracted to me; she always seemed
completely cool.

     All this was during the day, of course.  At night, we made
unilateral love as I lay masturbating in my bed.  She was my slave;
I came in her every orifice; she writhed under my lash; and I felt her
warm tongue touch me at every point.  When I graded her tests, I prayed
that she would do poorly, so that she would offer me sex in exchange
for a passing grade.

     In fact she did do poorly.  She was---not to be unkind---dumb,
and basically uninterested in school.  She was really there to be trained
for a job but, like most teenagers, could not discipline herself to do
what was necessary.  As I had only recently realized myself that I was
going to have to do something every day for the next forty or fifty years,
I understood how she felt.  (I don't really know why I perservered.
It was probably a sort of psychic inertia, my parents' expectations
providing an initial shove that carried me through, in a `right line,'
so to speak, from which no force had yet pushed me.)  Anyway, it was
Shannon's lack of discipline that led to the events I am about to relate.

     I had just given back the second test of three when Shannon appeared
at my office door.  I was working when she knocked, and was surprised
to see her; she had never been by before.  I was a little flustered:
as all my fantasies about her came rushing to my head, the blood rushed
to my groin and, I am afraid, my face.  I stammered a "Come in."

     "Mr. Reynolds---sir---"  she began, a little uncertainly, "I wanted
to talk to you about my grade."  Was she looking at my crotch?
I couldn't tell.

     "Yes.  You're not doing too well, are you?"

     "No.  And I'm worried about it.  I need this class.  I really
studied for this test."  She held the second test in her hand, which
she had failed, like the first.  She looked upset, maybe about to cry.
"I don't know what else to do.  Could you suggest anything?"

     I refrained from actually licking my lips as several suggestions
came to mind, though I could not resist a long glance at her chest.
I did not make any of these suggestions, however; I said, mildly,
"Umm---do you have a tutor?"

     "No.  Well, a girlfriend of mine who took this course last year
has been helping me with the homework.  She got a B, so she really knows
what she's doing."

     Sure, I thought.  I said, "You're doing all the homework?"
I knew she wasn't; anyone who could do the homework could get at least
a C in the course.

     She hesitated slightly, then said, "Well---I always try it, but
I usually can't do it.  If I knew where to start... ."

     I had only been teaching for a little less than two years (one year
in grad school), but I had already heard this at least a thousand times.
What it meant was "I give each problem a look.  If I can't find an
example just like it in the book or my notes, or if it takes more than
one minute to do, I consider it impossible and go on to the next one."
I sighed inwardly and thought to myself that she was lucky to have those
tits; she was certainly not going to get by on her brains.  I said,
"What's your major?"

     "Psychology," she replied.  "I'm doing fine in my psych courses."

     I didn't doubt it for a second; anyone could do well in those
courses.  I said, "Oh.  Then you don't really need this course; you just
need any two math courses.  But maybe your GPA can't afford the hit of
failing this course?"

     She looked tearful again and said, "No."  She hesitated, then
said, "I'm failing history and English too.  I don't know what to do."
She sniffled a little and looked at me.

     "Well, I can't do anything about the history or English courses,
but you could come to me for help in math.  Try the homework, and if you
can't get it, bring it to me, and I'll go over it with you.  You could
also get a tutor, if you can afford one."  It wasn't much help, which
we both knew, but it was all I could offer.

     "Well, okay."  She looked around for a moment, then asked, "What
are your office hours?"

     "They're on the door," I answered.  The door was open; I pointed
to a sheet of paper taped to it.  "Do you need a pen and paper?"

     "No, I've got it," she said.  She got them out of her backpack
and made a show of copying down my office hours.  When she was done she
turned to me and smiled.  "You'll be seeing a lot of me---I need a lot
of help!" she said enthusiastically.  She sounded as if she meant it,
but I knew she would never really show up; her kind never do.

     "Okay," I replied.  I looked wistfully at her ass as she left,
thinking that I had probably just blown my chance at her, if I had
ever had one.  I sighed again, this time aloud.  Oh, well, I consoled
myself, if I had tried something she probably would have brought me up
on sexual-harrassment charges anyway.

     She never did come to my office, of course.  In fact, I did not
see her outside class until after the third test, which she also failed.
I had an evening class, and I kept some late office hours right after it
for night students who might have difficulty seeing me during the day;
it was to this hour that Shannon came.  Because she was a day student,
I was even more surprised to see her than I had been the first time.
I guess I had admitted to myself that I would never have her, though,
because I was quite calm.

     "Hello, Shannon.  Come in."  She came in and closed the door.
Usually I discouraged this; I don't want to leave myself open to charges
of sexual harrassment.  However, my fantasy life took charge, and I
said nothing.  She sat down in a chair next to mine.  She looked upset,
but in an odd way.  I decided that she had figured out what she was
going to do about her problems, but didn't like it.  Maybe, I thought,
she has decided to drop out of school.

     "Hello, Mr. Reynolds."  She sat silent for a moment, looking down
at her knees.  I struggled, as usual, to keep my eyes on her face.
Finally she said, "I have to pass this class."  She looked up at me,
and said meaningfully, "I'll do anything I have to."

     I tried to stay calm, to keep my feelings out of my expression, but I
doubt I was successful.  My cock went from rubber to steel in a second.
My fantasy was coming true!  For a moment I couldn't speak, and after
that I could only stammer, which I did for a moment before deciding to
just shut up until I was more in control of myself.

     Shannon didn't wait.  She nodded her head toward my crotch and said,
blushing slightly, "I see you know what I mean.  I guess I guessed right
about your wanting this."

     I gulped and nodded, but still said nothing.  I wasn't looking at her
face, but I saw her flush again as she said, "I've never done this before.
What's the...umm...what usually happens?"

     I finally managed to speak.  "I've never done it before either,
so I don't know."  I looked up at her; neither of us knew how to continue.
After a moment's silence she pointed toward the door with her head and
said, "Is that door locked?"  I nodded yes, and, with a look at me,
she sank to her knees on the floor.  She reached her hands up to my
shoulders and ran her hands down my chest.

     "I guess we can start with this," she breathed.  Her hands found
my crotch and rubbed my hard cock.  She undid my belt and opened my pants,
and I raised up a little so she could pull them down.  I was breathing
very hard; I hadn't had sex in so long that I was sure I would come
as soon as she touched me.  I didn't, but I knew it wouldn't be long.
I moaned when her hands caressed my cock, and shivered when she gently
squeezed my balls; I could feel an orgasm building already, making me
heady and thick.  A little pre-cum appeared on the head of my cock,
and she licked it off.

     I ran my hands down her back as she took me in her mouth.
I caressed her head, then reached down her front and found her tits.
I squeezed and caressed them through her shirt; as my fingers ran over her
nipples, her concentration was shaken, and my cock came out of her mouth.
I grabbed her tits, or as much of them as I could, in my hands, and
squeezed harder, pulling them upward.  "Suck me, you bitch," I ordered.
She looked up at my face with an expression of surprise, and then went
back to my cock.  I didn't let go of her tits, but I relaxed my grip.
I felt the fire in my groin, and it made me reckless, as usual.  I said
hoarsely, "You know what you need, you beautiful bitch?  You need a good
spanking."  She said nothing, but moved her head faster.  "I'd like to
spank your ass, your beautiful white ass," I said in a kind of chant.
I was on the verge of orgasm.  I squeezed her tits hard, hard enough to
elicit a little cry from her, but she did not stop sucking.  "I want to
whip your ass and fuck your tits," I chanted, "suck me suck me suck me
you bitch you bitch you BITCH."  I came in great spurts, grunting like
a beast.  She tried to swallow it all, but some escaped her; I don't
think I had come that much in years.

     After a moment she looked up at me, obviously afraid of the animal
I had become.  "I'm sorry," she whispered.  She looked back down at
the floor.  "I tried to swallow it all, but there was too much."

     I looked at her for a second, hesitating.  I realized that it was a
crucial moment in our relationship, young though it was, a moment in
which its entire future course could be set.  I also knew that what I was
contemplating could go utterly wrong, and ruin everything; if I hadn't
been so very hot, and in a position of power I had never been in before,
I wouldn't have tried it, as I had never had the nerve to try it before.
I balanced on the edge for a moment, then made up my mind, summoned
my courage, and grabbed her by the hair.  "You're not finished yet,"
I said roughly.  I knelt, forcing her head down to the tiled floor.

     "Lick it up," I ordered.  She whimpered and tried weakly to pull
away, but I pushed her down harder and put my lips to her ear.  "Eat it,
you bitch," I growled, spitting out the last word.  The violence in
my voice and hand must have been convincing, because she began to lick
enthusiastically at the spots of cum on the floor, emitting little moans
as she went.  "Clean it up, bitch, clean it up," I said unnecessarily,
pressing my face against her head and pulling her hair tight.  I watched
exultantly as she worked, panting, until she had gotten every drop.
I let her up and said, "Good work.  You're a good slave." She looked a
little blank; I couldn't tell what her reaction to my last words was.
However, she made no demurrer; she simply sat silently, wiping at a few
spots of cum on her shirt.  I thought of punishing her for doing this
without my permission, but I felt I had pushed things as far as I could
for one day, so I kept quiet.

     After a few moments of silence I said, "I want to see you here
tomorrow night.  I want you to bring all your books and notes, everything,
for your history and English classes."  Naturally, she looked surprised.
I didn't explain; I had something in mind which I hardly dared admit
to myself yet.  She stood up, still silent, and I stood up with her.
I pulled her around to me and kissed her, whereupon she looked surprised
again; but then she kissed me back, quite passionately, and pressed her
body against mine.

     I thought for a long time about the look she had given me as
she left.  There was fear in it, certainly, but there was respect too,
and something which, although I couldn't identify it at the time, was
surprisingly positive.


Chapter Two


     I spent the evening, and much of the following day, in trepidation.
At the time it had happened, I thought that it had gone very well; but
on reflection, I was not sure.  I had, after all, forced a young student
to lick my cum off my office floor.  If she could convince anyone that
it had really happened, I would not only lose my job, I would probably
end up in court, even though she was of age and had started it all.
I was not actually too worried about this part, however, as I was fairly
well convinced that she wanted to continue our arrangement, at least
long enough to pass my class.

     I was much more worried about what would happen tonight, when I
had told her to come to my office again.  Last night she had seemed to
take my direction willingly, but would this continue?  Or would she,
once not under the influence of sex, decide that she would herself set
the rules?  If that latter were the case, I needed to outplay her if
possible, and I did not know how to go about it.  I knew her so little
that I could not even form any definite plan; I had to wait and play it
by ear.

     Shannon arrived at my office after my last class.  I had not seen her
that day, and I was once again taken aback at my attraction to her.
The truth was that she unnerved me---I would have done nearly anything to
have sex with her.  I thought I had been successful in disguising this
in the past, and I knew that I could never let her know it if we were
to have the relationship I desired.  (I was wrong about this, of course,
but I was too inexperienced to know it at the time.)

     "Hello, Shannon.  Did you bring the stuff for your other classes?"

     "Yes.  Here."  She handed me a stack of papers, books, and notebooks.
"I still don't understand what you want them for, though."

     I didn't tell her.  "You will.  Sit down."  I nodded my head toward a
chair, and she sat down.  "I need to look these over a few minutes."

     She sat down, looking puzzled and a little pouty at not being told
what was going on, and I began to examine her course work.  The courses
were American Literature (a survey) and Ancient History; fortunately, I
knew quite a bit about both.  She was failing both courses, but neither
one too badly; it would not take too much to bring her grades up to
passing ones.  She apparently had one paper and the final exam left in
each course.  I put down the papers and looked at her for a few minutes,
which made her visibly uncomfortable.  My problem was that I didn't know
how to make the proposition I had in mind in such a way as to make her
take it seriously.  Before I could state it at all, however, I needed
some information.

     "Shannon---are you planning to be in summer school?"

     She looked surprised, but answered the question.  "Yes.  I was going
to take two Soc courses, but now I guess I'll have to take history
and English over."  She looked upset.  " If they'll even let me stay
in school."

     "Hmm.  One more thing.  Do you live with your parents?"
Many students did; the financial savings were part of the reason they
went to community college.

     The question brought forth a look of even greater surprise, but again
she answered.  "Yes.  Umm---no.  Well...I live in my parents' house,
but they're in Germany for two years.  My dad was transferred there."

     "Do you live alone?"

     She looked exasperated as she said, "Yes.  Why are you asking me all
these questions?"

     It was time to be direct.  "Okay, Shannon, here's what I want."
I looked over to make sure that the door was closed.  "I can get you
passing grades--- probably D's---in your history and English courses,
and a good grade in mine, and good grades in your summer school classes
as well."

     She was astonished.  "How can you do that?"  A shrewd look then
came over her face as she continued, "Can you break into the computers?"

     "No," I replied, "nothing like that.  It's all completely aboveboard.
However," and I looked hard at her, "there's a very high price."

     I waited for her to ask, and she did, warily.  "What price?"

     I swallowed hard while trying not to show my nervousness, and said,
"I want you to be my slave, from now till the end of first summer session."

     It took her a moment to realize what I had said.  When she did
she was nervous herself; she was wondering whether I was a madman,
and she could see that she had gotten in deeper than she had wanted.
She certainly didn't want to assent, but she didn't want to offend me
either; she still needed a passing grade in my class.  It took her a
moment to answer, and even then she didn't seem to know what to say.

     "Umm---well---"  She paused, looking down.  When she looked up
again she said  "Look.  Couldn't we just have a simple arrangement, sex
for a grade?  That's all I wanted."  It had obviously been difficult
for her to say, and she looked down again.  I had been prepared for
something like this, and had made my decision beforehand.  I waited;
in a moment she looked up for my answer, which was a firm "No."

     She made no response, so I continued, in a tone as uncompromising-
sounding as I could, in my nervousness, adopt.  "I'm only interested
in what I said."  She stayed silent, so I went on.  "I'll give you
twenty-four hours to decide.  If you're not here tomorrow night at
this time, I'll assume that you're not interested."  I was amazed at
my ability to maintain a facade of self-assurance, though of course my
heart was trembling with anxiety at each word.  Of course I did not mean
it about the twenty-four-hour limit; I was just trying to pressure her.

     Having now had a few minutes to take it all in, she was ready
with her response, which was indignant.  "I won't be here.  You can
forget it."  Her voice shook slightly as she said angrily, "You know what?
You're crazy.  I'm sorry I ever even thought of having sex with you."

     She got up to leave, but I stood up and blocked her way.  Having gone
this far, I was determined to play out the rest of my fantasy.
My surprising calm had not abandoned me; indeed I felt, if anything,
more calm and in control than before.  Standing in front of her I ordered,
"Sit down!  You can't go yet.  You might change your mind, and I want you
to know exactly what I'm proposing."  I put a hand on her chest and pushed
her roughly down into the chair.  I leaned over to look directly at her
and said, "I would not be an easy master to you." I caressed her face with
my hand, and she tried to move away, her eyes wide.  I quickly moved my
hand to her neck and squeezed lightly, making her start and look directly
up at me.  I stared at her and said in a voice that I could not keep from
being hoarse,  "I would whip you and fuck you and humiliate you, Shannon,
and do other things you've never thought of.  You would be my sex toy.
Have you ever wanted to be a sex toy?" I squeezed harder as I said the
last sentence, and her eyes widened even more, but she remained silent.
I relaxed my grip somewhat and said in a more normal tone, "I can give
you only one assurance.  I would never do anything that would cause you
permanent physical harm."

     I released her and sat down.  She made no motion toward the door,
so I said, "You may go.  Remember, twenty-four hours."  She picked up
her papers and books quickly, staying as far away from me as she could,
and left without saying a word.  I left, feeling intensely satisfied even
though I was pretty sure she would never be back.  It was too bad to lose
her, but at least I had risked trying something I had always wanted but
never had the nerve for before.  As I drove home I sang "Under My Thumb"
at the top of my voice.


Chapter Three


     My feeling of self-satisfaction and power lasted through the next
day and on into the evening.  I was, as I have said, pretty sure that
I would never see Shannon again; but I was quite high on my feeling of
accomplishment.  I was sure that all who saw me could see the difference
in me, that I carried myself with a masculine grace and assurance that
I had never had before.

     My suspicion that I wouldn't see Shannon again was confirmed when
she did not show up for class.  Her absence made no difference to my mood;
I taught my classes in high spirits, held my office hour (to which she
also did not come), and went home.

     I did not hear from her for three days.  On the evening of the
third day, as I was preparing to leave for the night, she suddenly
appeared at my office door.  I didn't notice her right away, as I was
gathering some papers together, so she made a little throat-clearing noise
to get my attention.  When I saw her I sat down without saying anything,
and stared at her.  She began to get nervous, and finally said, meekly,
"Can I come in?"

     "Yes."

     She closed the door and sat down.  She clearly had something to
say, but did not know how to begin.  "Um---Mr. Reynolds---"  She paused,
then started again.  "Ahhh---"  She flushed, and looked down, still
unable to start.

     I decided to take the initiative.  "Did you come here to say something?"

     Shannon looked up.  "Yes, but...umm...well...well...Oh, damn!
I can't say it!"  She flushed and looked down again.

     I said, "Did you come to apologize?"

     Her head came up sharply, an angry look on her face.  Her intention
was clearly to rebuke me, but she stopped short when she saw my
expression.  She became uncertain, and paused before beginning, "Well, no.
I mean, I didn't think I did anything to apologize for."

     "You said I was crazy, and that you were sorry that you had even
thought of having sex with me."

     "Oh, that.  Well, umm, I guess I'm sorry about that.  Okay?"
She looked into my eyes to see whether she was forgiven.  I decided that
her apology was enough, so I softened my look; there did not seem to be
any advantage to be gotten by continuing to seem offended.

     "Okay.  Now, if you didn't come here to apologize, why did you come?"

     She looked confused and shy again, and again had trouble starting,
so I said, more gently, "Have you decided to take me up on my offer?"

     For a moment she couldn't answer; then she said, "Can you really
get me those grades?"

     I thought a minute before answering, "Yes.  At least, I think I
still can.  I can certainly get the ones for my class and the summer,
and at least one of the grades for this semester.  But why do you care
now if you didn't care before?"

     She looked worried and said, "I got a letter from the college.
They said that if my final grades were as bad as my midterm grades,
I'd be out on academic suspension."

     I got up and went over to her, my breathing already rapid.  I ran
my hand through her hair as I said, "So you're ready be my slave?"
My cock was so hard that the restraint of my pants was causing me pain.

     "I guess so," she whispered, "I need to get through."  She wouldn't
look at me, though I put my hand under her chin and tried to pry her
head up.  I knelt down so that we were eye to eye.  Still she tried to
look away, as though ashamed.

     "No, Shannon, that won't do.  You have to look me in the eye."
She did so, slowly.

     "Now.  I want you to say 'I know you're going to whip me and fuck
me and humiliate me, and I want to be your slave'."

     She said it, albeit haltingly.  I responded, also in a near-whisper,
"Good girl.  Now, down on your knees."  She got down on her knees and waited.
I said, "Take my pants off, Shannon."  She reached up and unbuckled my
belt, then opened my pants and pulled down my zipper.  I was so desperate
for her to touch my cock that I almost danced, but I restrained myself;
I wanted to seem always in perfect control.  She pulled my pants down
to my shoes, then reached for my underpants.

     "No," I said hoarsely, "Take off my shoes."  She took them off,
which took an excruciatingly long time, and then slid my pants off.
When she slid my underpants down, my cock sprang gratefully free.
She reached up and took it in her hand, then in her mouth.  I let her
suck it for a few delicious moments, and then pulled it out of her mouth.

     "Not yet," I said.  "Take off your shirt."  She pulled her shirt
over her head, and then unhooked her bra.  Her tits were as magnificent
as I had always thought they would be, creamy white and topped with rosy
areolae and hard, dark-pink nipples.  I reached down and caressed them,
squeezing and pressing them, and she returned her mouth to my cock.
I let her have it for a moment, then pulled it out again, saying, "I
didn't tell you to do that."

     She looked up mournfully at me, as though saying "I'm trying to be
a good girl, I just don't know the rules".  She looked so young and
vulnerable that I almost didn't have the heart to do what I had planned
next.  Lust and pity fought for a moment inside me, but in the end
lust, and my need to establish complete control of this girl, won out.
I turned slowly around so that my ass was in her face, and bent over.
I took her tits firmly in my hands, and said, "Lick my asshole."

     She moved her face toward my ass, but stopped well short and
whimpered, "No, please no."  I squeezed her tits fairly hard, and said
gutturally, "Oh yes.  Oh, yes, Shannon.  Lick it.  Lick it, slave."
Another whimper escaped her as she moved her head closer to my ass.
She licked my cheek, not very close to my asshole.  This time I squeezed
her tits much harder, and she cried out.  I rasped, "I'm going to tear
these off if you don't get busy.  And then later when we get home I'm
going to whip them till they bleed."  She began to cry, and I felt her
tongue low in the crack of my ass.  "I'm not kidding, bitch!" I said,
and squeezed her tits repeatedly.  I could hear her moaning and sniffling,
but she began to lick upward.  I was in ecstasy from the dual sensations,
physical and psychical.  I squeezed her nipples very hard, eliciting a
cry from her, and then a tearful "You're hurting me!"  "Yes," I replied,
my voice full of the relish I felt, "Oh, yes."  I pinched her again and
ordered, "Lick it!"  She started in again, but when she got to my asshole,
she stopped, and would not go further.  When I ordered her to, she said,
her voice thick with crying, "It's dirty!" and would go no further.

     I pulled and squeezed at her tits some more, but she just cried
harder and would not continue, so I turned around.  "Suck my cock then,
bitch."  She sucked me, tears running down her cheeks.  My head reeled
with lust as I pumped away at her face.  I said, "Oh, but you will.  Oh,
yes, you will.  You'll beg to lick my asshole, bitch, you'll beg for it.
Oh god, suck me.  Oh, shit, I'm gonna come.  I'm gonna whip your ass 'til
Wednesday, you disobedient cunt, and then I'm gonna start on your tits.
Oh god, oh god, ohh... "  Like a shot from a pistol I felt the hot
semen searing my cock, pouring into her throat, spraying her face like
sticky milk.

      Shannon looked down at the drops of cum that had landed on the
floor and then up at me with a frightened expression.  I knew what
she was asking; I simply nodded my head and pointed down with my index
finger.  Sniffling, she slowly bent down and started to lick up the cum.
While she was at it I noticed, to my amazement, that I was still hard.
(Usually I need at least twenty minutes between hard-ons, and often more.)
Shannon rose up and looked at me, and I could tell that she was waiting
for my approval.  I took her head in my hand, and pressed her to me.

     "Good girl," I murmured, "good girl."  She pressed against me,
still on her knees, rocking slightly.  After a few seconds I realized
that she was rubbing against me not just for comfort, but demandingly,
as a cat who wants to be fed.  She looked up at me, and I could see the
heat in her eyes.  I stood up and moved to the other chair, which had
no arms.  "Come here," I told her.

     She stood and walked over to me.  "Kick off your shoes," I said.
I put my fingers inside her skirt, pantyhose, and panties, and pulled them
down and off.  I put my hands on her ankles and ran them slowly up her
legs and sides, then back down her midsection.  Her abdomen contracted
involuntarily as my fingers passed over it, and I heard a gasp as I
brushed her beautiful triangle.  Reaching around to grasp her ass cheeks,
I pushed my tongue into her and slowly licked up toward her clitoris.

     "Oh, yes," she said, "ohh ohh oh god yes."  She grabbed the back
of my head and pulled me hard into her cunt.  I licked her clit a few
times, but I was not about to let her come yet, not this way.  I pulled
away and sat down on the chair.

     "Sit down," I whispered.  She straddled my legs and sat slowly down,
my cock sinking into her cunt.  We both moaned with pleasure as I went
all the way in, but it was she who kept up the noise.

     "Oh, yes.  OH! Oh, yes.  Oh, oh, oh god, oh god."  She began to
fuck me, moving rhythmically up and down and talking.  "Oh, god.  Oh,
fuck me.  Oh, please, I wanna come, I wanna come.  Unhh...Unhh..."
She began to move more quickly as her orgasm built.  I was enjoying
watching her face, not to mention the feeling of her ass pounding against
my legs, but I wanted her to come as violently as possible, so I fucked
her just a little out of synch to slow her orgasm down.  This elicited a
series of little cries, and I knew I couldn't keep her from coming much
longer, so I stood up, knees bent in the horseriding stance.  She wrapped
her arms and legs around me and began fucking like a frenzied animal.
This time I went with her, matching her stroke for stroke, encouraging
her to come as quickly as possible.

     Thank god it was late at night, and we were the only people in
the building.  Shannon came like a storm, scratching and screaming and
crying out, "OH! OH! OH!"  I made no attempt to quiet her; I needed
her to have this orgasm, and besides I was now coming again myself.
This orgasm was less intense for me than the last one, but it was still
very fine; I felt completely drained, and I was sure that I would not
be getting hard again immediately afterward.

     When we were both finished I sat down with Shannon on my lap,
and she put her head on my shoulder.   I stroked her hair in silence,
until I noticed that she was crying.  Miraculously, I understood it.
I pushed her far enough away to be able to look at her and said, "You
never came like that before, did you."  A new flow of tears welled up
as she shook her head, and she looked down.  I put my hand under her
chin and moved her to face me.  Her expression managed to mingle shame,
satisfaction, and fear all at once but, unlike before, the fear was not
of me.  She was, I could see, afraid of whatever it was inside her that
made her have the best orgasm of her life with a man who had intentionally
hurt and humiliated her, and promised more of the same.

     "Don't worry," I said, as authoritatively as possible, "it's normal.
They just don't tell you about it in Feminism 101."  Actually, of course,
I had no idea whether it was normal or not, as I had never been in this
position before; I just knew what I had read in books.  She looked up
at me, not sure whether to trust me.  I held her glance for a moment,
but it never resolved; and when we parted for the night, I was still
not sure exactly what she was feeling.  However, she had agreed to
bring some things the next day in preparation for moving in with me,
so it seemed I was going to have plenty of opportunity to find out.


Chapter Four


     Shannon moved in with me the next night.  She brought some clothes
and other necessaries to school, and rode home with me in my car.
She said that she had to go home once a week to water the plants and
see that everything was all right, and I agreed.

     I need not describe our first night, as nothing new or interesting
happened.  Shannon's breasts were very sensitive from my treatment of
them on the previous day, and I was not yet ready to push her again,
so we made very slow and tender love.  The following day, a Saturday,
was a different story.  Shortly after breakfast I told her to bring me
her history book.

     "We have less than two weeks, Shannon, so you'll have to work
very hard.  I want you to read the first two chapters of this book today,
and I'll quiz you on them this evening before dinner."

     "But I already read those chapters," she complained.  "I know that stuff."

     "That's not what your test scores say," I responded.  I looked at
her and said, "But perhaps you're ready to be quizzed on them now?"

     "No, no," she said hastily, reaching for the book.  I had not said
what kind of quiz I was talking about, but she could tell from my look
and voice that it was not the kind she was used to.  "I'll read them."
She took the book and went into the bedroom I had given her.

     After a couple of hours I brought her a cup of coffee, and inquired
about her progress.  She assured me that she was studying hard, but that
it was slow going.  I told her that she must be ready by five o'clock,
and that I was going out for a while and she should get lunch whenever
she felt hungry.  She looked at me nervously as I left.

     I went first to an unfinished furniture store and bought a small
but very solidly constructed rectangular dining table.  I brought this
home and set it up in the basement, attaching its feet firmly to the
floor.  I made some crude leg stocks along the short side of it out of
two-by-fours and some hardware I had around the house, and set a ring
in the bottom of the tabletop just above the stocks.

     I needed a belt that could be quickly and easily locked on to
Shannon's waist, so I went to a local leather store and bought two simple
belts with D-ring buckles and not much else.  I cut the D-ring off one of
the belts, and riveted it onto the free end of the other.  With her legs
in the stocks, the belt around her waist, and a short piece of chain
attaching the belt to the ring under the tabletop, she would be held
effectively in place facing the table, able to use her hands but unable
to turn around.  Finally I went to K-Mart and bought a cheap fiberglas
fishing rod, stripped all the hardware off the rod part, and detached it
from the handle.  I bared my thigh and tried my little whip out on myself,
to see how hard I had to hit to produce a given effect, and was pleased
to find that it did not take much force to produce a really painful sting.

     My preparations complete, I looked at the clock.  It was 4:30,
and I had told her 5:00, so I drank a glass of wine and fantasized for
half an hour.  The fantasy was making me so hot that I was afraid I
would not be able to control myself properly, so I went out for a walk
and tried not to think about what was about to happen.

     When I got back I went into Shannon's room and told her to undress.
She had nothing on but a robe and panties, so she was naked in seconds.
The sight of her standing there, vulnerable and anxious, was so tempting
that I almost forewent the lesson in favor of just fucking her brains
out.  I steeled myself, however, and after briefly caressing her, told
her to get her history book and follow me, which she did, anxiety and
apprehension clear on her face.

     I kept her behind me as we entered the downstairs room so that I
could turn around to see the expression on her face when she saw the
apparatus I had built.  I had expected shock; I saw puzzlement.

     "What's that?"

     "Hmm.  Think of it as a teaching machine."  I led her over to it.
When I closed the stocks around her legs, she finally understood, and
her expression changed from one of apprehension to one of fear.

     "What are you going to do to me?" she asked, her voice quavering.

     "I'm going to quiz you on what you read today," I replied, fastening
the belt around her waist.  I had looked over her midterm test and
quizzes, so I knew what kinds of questions she would be asked.  I picked
up the whip and stood alongside her.

     "Who led the Plimouth colony?" I asked softly.

     "Umm...it was...oh, damn!...umm...was it John what's-his-name?"
She looked at me as though asking for his last name.

     "No," I said, and brought the whip down on her ass with a medium
stroke.  It made a nice crack! as it hit, and my already stiff cock
swelled to its maximum.

     "Ow!" she cried out, "that hurts!"

     "That's the idea.  Now what was his name?"

     "I don't know.  I can't remember."  She looked at me, expecting me
to hit her again.  Instead I asked her another question.

     "Why was Oglethorpe allowed to start his colony in the South?"
Again I gave her a moment to answer, and again she couldn't.  I whipped
her again, this time a little harder.  I could see that she was trying
not to cry, but I could also see a few tears leaking out from the corners
of her eyes.  I asked her an easier question, one she was able to answer.
She looked relieved, but I did not let it last.  I asked another question,
and when she was unable to answer I gave her another stroke, harder yet.
She made a little noise this time, and her hands came around to protect
her ass.  I gave her no time to relax, but quizzed her again.  This time
she moved her hands around before I hit her, and my stroke landed on
them.  She yelped in pain and brought her right hand up to her mouth.
Her tears were now flowing freely, and she looked at me with hatred.
I gave no indication that I cared, but asked her another question, and
whipped her all the harder when she couldn't answer.  I was raising welts
now, and hitting her about as hard as I could without breaking her skin.
My cock was harder than it had ever been; it was like what I imagine those
cock-stiffening drugs to be like.  I could feel the pre-cum dripping
out of me, and I was moving my hips in an unconscious fucking motion.
Shannon was crying out with each stroke, and cursing me, and begging me
to stop.  She was not even attempting to answer my queries.

     "You fucking bastard!" she screamed, "I'll kill you!"  She writhed
around, straining against the belt that held her at the waist, trying
to pick up her legs.  Then she looked piteously at me, crying "Please
stop, please.  Please, I don't know, I don't know."  Her body jerked
against the table as the whip struck her ass.  Occasionally she would try
instinctively to protect herself with her hands again, but the next stroke
of the whip would remind her that that was even worse.  I stepped up the
pace even more, and gave her less time between questions.  She could not
answer them, of course, and my whip came down time after time, until
her ass looked like an airline route map done in red.  My cock was so
hard that I thought the skin would break.  I was not sure whether what
was dripping out of me was still pre-cum, or whether I was coming slowly
and continuously.

     I kept it up for about twenty minutes.  At that point her voice
began to vary unpredictably in volume when she spoke and she started
looking a little crazy, so I stopped.  I wanted her to be miserable, but
not too miserable; though I was getting great satisfaction out of this,
I really did want her to learn from it as well.  Her face was covered
with tears and snot, and her ass was a mass of fine red lines.  As far
as I could tell, I had not broken the skin anywhere, and I congratulated
myself on my self-restraint.  I let her loose and led her upstairs and
into the bedroom.  She was still crying.

     "On your knees," I ordered.  She started crying harder at this new
tribulation, but I was too far gone to care.  I opened my pants and
stood in front of her, my throbbing cock at head level.

     "Use your hands," I rasped, my voice thick with lust.  She took my
cock in both hands and began to jerk me off.  "I want to come on your
face," I breathed, "make me come on your face."  Her hands moved
unsteadily on my cock.  I took one of them in my hand and moved it
to my balls.  Shannon began tickling and squeezing them, which always
drives me wild.  "Oh, fuck," I said, "oh god oh fuck."  Looking down I
saw her face, still wet from crying.  I bent down and reached for her
magnificent tits and saw the yellow marks on them where my fingers had
squeezed hard enough to bruise them.  The sight of those marks, and
Shannon's ministrations to my cock and balls, sent me over the edge,
and I came.  Shannon closed her eyes as my cum covered her face.

     "Oh god Shannon you bitch fuck me oh god," I ranted.  I could feel
her hand grow slippery with my come as she continued to jerk me off.
When she could open her eyes she slowed down and moved her mouth close to
my cock.  She slowly milked me for the last drops of come, letting these
fall into her mouth.  "Oh god," I sighed, "oh shit Shannon, oh god you
are beautiful."  She let go of my cock and began licking my come off her
face.  I stood watching her until she had gotten all that she could reach.
I leaned over her and said, "Now thank me, Shannon."  She looked at me as
though I were crazy, and said nothing.  I continued, "You deserved that
whipping, Shannon, and it won't be your last."  The pain and humiliation
came back to her in a rush, I could tell, for she clouded up with anger.
I went on, "I told you to read those chapters, and you either didn't
read them, or you didn't pay attention to them.  If you had, you would
have been able to answer all or at least most of those questions."

     For the first time she spoke.  "I did read them," she whined,
and tears came to her eyes, "I did."

     I hesitated.  I knew that this problem was not really her fault;
she had never been taught to read properly.  I had known it from the
beginning, but had seen no chance of teaching her until she understood
the consequences of refusing to learn.

     "Look, Shannon, I'm going to tell you something."  I waited for
her to look at me before continuing.  "History is a *story*.  Just like
_Huck Finn_, just like a soap opera.  You don't memorize the parts;
you remember the whole thing, and then you can't help but remember
the parts.  Do you have any trouble remembering the characters from
_Days of Our Lives_?"

     "I don't watch _Days of Our Lives_," she said sullenly, looking down.

     "All right, then, whatever you do watch," I said, exasperated.
"Do you have any trouble remembering characters from there?"

     "_All My Children_" she said, then admitted, "No, I don't."

     "That's because you're involved in the story, and the story
doesn't make sense without the characters who populate it.  It's the
same with history.  You have to pay attention to the story, and remember
that the people in it are real.  Then you'll remember everything, or
nearly everything."

     She didn't answer, but I could tell she was listening.  I decided
that she had had enough for one day.  "Okay, Shannon, that's enough.
Clean up, get dressed; I'm going to make dinner.  But listen."  I put my
hand under her chin and raised her eyes to mine.  "Tomorrow you're going
to read those same two chapters over, and I'm going to quiz you on them
again."  Tears came to her eyes, and she started to say something, but
I stopped her.  "Quiet!  We have less than two weeks left until finals.
Even if I write your papers for you, you still have to pass those finals.
And we haven't even started on English."  She shut up and went into
the bathroom.  I went to make dinner, thinking that I had not enforced
my order to thank me, and wondering if it were a mistake to let it go.


Chapter Five

     Shannon worked hard the next day, and our "quiz" went much more
easily for her.  Her ass was very sore, and I realized that she was not
going to be able to sit through her classes if I kept it that way, so
I whipped her thighs instead.  She cried, but did not lose her grip as
she had on Saturday.  I congratulated her, and laid out a schedule for
getting her through her courses.  Except for classes, meals, exercise,
and "quizzes", she was to spend essentially all her time studying to
pass her finals.

     I got to work on her papers.  My biggest problem was not to write
too well; I didn't want her professors getting suspicious.  Fortunately,
I had her old papers as models, and I was soon able to produce a pair of
"C" papers that she could have written.  I required her to study them,
and quizzed her on them, before I let her turn them in.

     We had "quizzes" every day, and I alternated between the front and
back of her thighs.  Shannon was continually sore.  She got better
at studying very quickly, but she was really not too bright; though I
restricted myself to the most modest sorts of questions, I was forced
to whip her at least some nearly every time.  I had to be careful not
to break her skin, or we could have had serious problems.

     During this period I did not push Shannon sexually or
psychologically.  I needed her to concentrate on her work, and I could not
punish her much more than I was doing already.  Besides, our quizzes were
doing the psychological work I needed done, habituating her to the idea
that her body was mine to do with as I would.  I got a lot of blowjobs,
as her soreness made Shannon an unresponsive partner no matter what
position we had sex in.

     Finally it was over.  I gave her an incomplete in my course, and
she got a "C" in English and a "D" in history.  She was appropriately
grateful, and thanked me effusively.  I made her admit that she had
needed our quizzes.

     We were in bed after her last final, and I was sitting on top of her,
my hands pressing her breasts together around my cock.  "Come on, now,
Shannon," I said insistently, moving my fingers to pinch her nipples,
"I want to be properly thanked for whipping you."  I pinched both her
nipples at once, and she drew her breath in sharply.

     "Oh!  Oh, thank you."

     "Say `Thank you sir.'"

     She looked at me with surprise; I had never insisted on this before.
"Say it," I repeated, and pinched her again, clamping down quite hard,
but slowly.

     "Thank you---unhh---sir," she breathed as her body twitched from the
compression of her nipples, and then a long "ohhh..." as I let them
expand again.  I felt a tingle in my balls at the sound, and a rush
of pure lust ran from there to my brain.  My breathing became quicker,
and a little pre-cum showed on the end of my cock.

     "I'm going to tit-fuck you, Shannon," I said, and pressed her
tits together around my cock again.  Her hands reached up to help,
and I began fucking her.  After a moment I stopped.  Her eyes flew open.

     "What's wrong?" she asked.

     "Nothing," I answered.  I reached into my bedside table and brought
out a tube of K-Y jelly.  I rubbed it between her breasts and returned
to my position atop her.  She sighed again and stroked my cock as it
slid along her chest.

     "Press them together, Shannon," I said.  "Make your tits a cunt
for me."  Her hands came up and pushed her tits together around my cock.
They were big enough to envelop it completely.  I began fucking her,
first slowly, then faster.  It was much easier now with the K-Y, and the
sensation was beginning to get to me.  "Harder," I ordered, speeding
up, "press them harder."  She pushed a little more, and made a little
noise of unhappiness.  "No," I said, my voice, as usual, hoarse, "Hard!
I don't care if it hurts."  She went a little farther, and I began to
yell at her as I abandoned myself to the orgasm, fucking frenziedly.
"Harder, goddamn it, harder!  Make it hurt!  I want to hear you cry, you
bitch, you cunt, you goddamned cunt."  I heard a little cry escape her
as she pressed her tits together hard.  "Oh, oh!  Oh god, keep it there.
Oh, yes, oh yes, oh shit I'm coming."  I came hard, my cum squirting
up onto her neck and face, still yelling.  "Harder, you bitch, harder,
oh god... ."  I pulled loose from her tits and gave her my cock to suck.
She took it in her mouth, but was unable to get more than a few drops.
I wiped the cum from her neck and let her lick it off my fingers.
When we were done we lay silent for a few minutes, and then Shannon
asked a question.

     "Umm---can I ask you a question?"

     "Yes."  She turned onto her side, but I didn't move to face her.

     "Why do you like to hurt me?  I mean, why does it make you hard?"

     "Hmm.  I've actually thought a good deal about that," I answered.
Now I did turn to face her.  "I've been having fantasies of hurting and
humiliating women since I was about thirteen.  When it started, I didn't
think about it much, and then later I thought I must be a misogynist,
but now I don't think so."

     "A mis...what?"

     "Oh, sorry.  A misogynist, someone who hates women.  I don't think
I am one, because I don't have any desire to hurt women to whom I'm not
attracted sexually.  That is, if I hate women, I certainly don't hate
all women.  It has occurred to me, of course, that if I'm not sexually
attracted to someone then I can't think of her as a woman, and then
maybe the definition would apply again... ."

     "Huh?"  I had lost her, musing aloud.

     "Never mind.  Anyway, I don't think I hate women; I don't even
think I hate you.  I just get off on hurting you."

     "But how come?"

     "I think the answer has at least two parts.  The first has to do with
ownership."  I reached out and stroked her hair, then brought her
mouth to mine.  After the kiss I said, "I don't want to lecture you... .
Well...okay.  The only comprehensible theory of ownership I ever heard was
that you only really truly own something if you are free to destroy it.
I don't want to destroy you, but the idea is the same: you're really mine
if I can do whatever I like with you."  I glanced over at her, but she
wasn't looking at me, so I couldn't see her expression.  I grabbed her
upper arm and squeezed it, and again brought her to me for a kiss, a more
passionate one this time.  I was getting reheated; my cock was already
half hard.  I ran my fingernails lightly down her back.  She shuddered,
and I remembered that she had not yet come.  I leaned back and continued
my lecture, caressing her the while.

     "The second part of the answer has to do with domination.  Most sex,
at least good sex, is about domination, one partner dominating the other.
I am definitely a dominant type, and so I need a submissive partner.
You, on the other hand---" My hand brushed her left breast, and her
nipple stiffened.  I moved closer to her, my hand sliding slowly down
toward her crotch.  I whispered the last phrase in her ear, punctuating
it with kisses. "---are very much the submissive type.  You see---"  My
cock was hard again now, and both of us were breathing hard.  "---sex
wouldn't be any good for you unless you understood implicitly that I
was in control."  I pinched her nipple hard as I said the last word.
She gasped and brought her face up to mine.

     "Oh god yes,"  she said.  My finger entered her cunt, and she
cried out.  "Oh yes, oh god, oh fuck me baby oh fuck me."  She began
fucking my hand, but I pulled it part way out.

     "Say `please'," I breathed.

     "Please, Please," she said, seeking my finger with her cunt.

     "No," I said, still in control, "say `please master fuck me'."

     "Oh, god, I want it.  Unhh---please, master, fuck me, please."

     "Good girl."  I put my middle finger in her cunt and bent my thumb
to rub against her clit.  She began bucking and thrusting against my hand,
and emitting little cries of pleasure.

     "Oh god, oh shit, oh baby, oh god oh god... ."  She wrapped her arms
around my neck and came, crying out louder than she had done since the
first time we had fucked.  I hoped it was the circumstances, and not
that she liked my finger better than my cock.  She kept her arms around
me and her face against my shoulder after she had come, and in a moment
I felt wetness on my chest.  She was crying, and again I knew why.
I held her close, my right arm around her back.

     "There, there," I murmurred, "it's okay.  It's perfectly normal."
Shannon said nothing, but kept crying for quite some time, after which
she lay silent, my arm still around her.

     After about twenty minutes I realized that I was not yet satisfied.
We had been having ordinary sex for too long, and I needed violence.
I began to caress Shannon again, running my fingernails up and down her
back and playing with her breasts, still slippery with K-Y.  Her nipples
hardened and she began to breathe faster as my hand went between her legs.
When my finger entered her cunt again she began to moan, and her hips
began to rotate.  Her arms went around my neck again, and she began to
breathe in my ear, "Yes, yes, oh yes, oh yes, unhhh... ."  I had other
things in mind, however, and withdrew my finger.

     "No, Shannon, that's not what I want now.  I want something new."
I ran my hand back up to her breasts and rubbed my middle finger in the
jelly between them.  "Turn over," I ordered, pulling at her shoulder.
She looked at me, her eyes wide.  I repeated, "Turn over," and she turned
slowly over.  I reached down and ran my finger up the crack of her ass,
and she shivered.  I found the entrance with my finger, and began to shove
it in, my cock stiff as a rod as I thought about what I was about to do.
I had fantasized about fucking a woman in the ass for years, and I could
hardly believe that it was finally going to happen.  My cock brushed
against Shannon's side, and I felt the slippery pre-cum on its end.

     Shannon wriggled and moaned as my finger went in, and I could tell
that she found it uncomfortable.  When it got all the way in, she was
bucking slightly as though trying to get it out.  I left it still for
a moment, then began slowly moving it in and out, fucking her with it.
She made a little noise and moved up on the bed to get away from it, but
I grabbed her hair.  "No, bitch," I said harshly, "stay still.  This is
nothing; wait till you feel my cock in your ass."  She wriggled harder,
and I withdrew my finger.  When I leaned over to get the K-Y, Shannon
tried to turn over.  "Turn over!" I said, "Get your ass in the air."
She whimpered and pawed at me, trying to embrace me, but I turned her
over roughly.  "Do you want me to spank it before I fuck it?" I asked.

     "No," she whispered.  I smeared more K-Y on my fingers and reached
for her ass again, this time pushing two fingers in up to the the first
knuckle.  She cried out now, and said, "It hurts, it hurts.  Please,
I'm afraid of this, please."

     "Yes," I said, "Yes, I know it hurts."  I put my arm across her
back to hold her in place and slowly pushed my knuckles past her
sphincter.  She twisted around and tried to dislodge my hand with hers.
I pulled my hand out and said, "Okay, bitch, that's enough.  You asked
for it."  I sat up and threw my leg over the small of her back.
She understood what was coming.

     "No, no, I'll be good.  Please, no."  I ignored her and brought my
hand down hard on her ass.  "No, no," she cried, "I'll be good, really,
really, don't spank me, oh, ohhhh... ."

     "You should have thought of that before, bitch," I replied, and
brought my hand down again.  A satisfying red patch appeared on her left
cheek, and my cock swelled to even greater stiffness.  Shannon began
to cry.

     "Oh god I love spanking you," I said in a whisper.  I began
spanking in earnest, and Shannon cried harder.  I did not go on long,
however; the sight of Shannon's ass, red and quivering with each stroke,
was too much for me to bear.  I soon climbed down and lay beside her,
pushing her up to face me.  Her face was wet with tears.

     "Are you ready to behave now?" I asked hoarsely.

     "Yes," she nodded.

     "Apologize," I ordered.

     "I'm sorry," she said.

     "I'm sorry, sir,"  I insisted.

     She repeated it meekly.  "I'm sorry, sir."

     "Now turn over."

     "Yes, sir."  She turned over, exposing her now red but still
beautiful ass.  I smeared K-Y on my cock, and climbed between her legs,
dizzy with lust, a noise like the rushing wind in my ears.  I kneaded her
ass cheeks for a minute, my cock jerking up and down with anticipation.
Finally I took my cock in my hand and ran it up her crack.  When I found
her asshole, I pushed the tip of my cock in.

     "Oh!"  she cried.  I pushed in a little farther, and Shannon began to
complain.  "Oh!  Oh, it hurts.  Oh god, no, no farther, no, please, oh no,
please."  She was crying again, and her hands came around to push me away.

     "Oh yes," I said, my voice full of need, "Oh yes, Shannon.  I'm going
to fuck your ass, your beautiful ass, oh god, oh, god.  I've waited long
enough for this, I'm not waiting any longer."  I pushed myself in farther,
and Shannon began to make little squeaking noises of pain.  My cock was
so stiff that the area just behind the glans was actually numb.

     "Please no, please, you're hurting me, please," she cried.
Her entreaties only made me hotter, and I pushed in more.  Though I
was crazy with desire, I did not want to damage her, so I was taking
it slowly.  Nevertheless she howled with pain.

     "Oh, god, you're too big, you're killing me, please stop, please
stop."  She tried to turn over, bringing my cock nearly all the way out.

     "I will kill you if you don't hold still," I growled.  I pushed
her shoulders down hard on the bed and put my hand on the back of
her neck.  "I'll fuckin' kill you, bitch, I'll kill you."  I pushed
myself back in to about the level I had reached before, Shannon crying
out and shaking with pain.  I had to stop moving for a minute to keep
myself from coming; then I began fucking her ass, slowly, controlling
the depth of my penetration by keeping my left foot flat on the mattress
with my knee bent.  I kept it up for a few minutes, trying to let her get
used to the sensation.  Then I let her rest, my cock still inside her.
Her shoulders shook as she cried into the pillow.

     I knew I could not wait much longer, even without moving.
Shannon's ass was the tightest, hottest place my cock had ever been.
The white noise in my head grew louder, and I reached underneath Shannon
to grab her tits.  I squeezed and kneaded them for a minute, and then
could wait no longer.  I squeezed her tits hard and pulled them downward
as I hunched myself up suddenly, pushing all the way into her ass.
As I felt my balls touch her ass Shannon screamed briefly, and the
sound drove me into a frenzy.  My hands moved to her shoulders, and I
began fucking her wildly, my head spinning as my cock moved in and out,
my hips thrusting hard against her ass.  I heard Shannon crying out as
I drove against her, but I could not listen; I wanted only to shoot my
cum into her beautiful white ass.

     It did not take long.  Shannon screamed as I bucked like a horse, my
fingernails cutting into her shoulders, trying to drive my whole pelvis
into her asshole.  The feeling of my balls slapping against her ass
made me grimace with pleasure, and my cock was so hard that I could
not think of it as a part of me.  My cum shot out with such force that
I was sure she would taste it in her mouth, a cum and shit cocktail.
It was the best orgasm I had ever had.


Chapter Six


     There was a ten-day break between the end of the Spring semester
and the beginning of Summer classes, and I had given Shannon the time off
from studying.  During this interval we played games and walked together,
and Shannon's thighs healed up.  After our one episode of ass-fucking,
our sex was pretty vanilla for a while.  I need these periods of vanilla
sex; they whet my appetite for darker things.  By Friday I was ready
for something more interesting.

     I had built another restraint apparatus in the basement.
Its construction was very simple; a pair of short four-by-four posts
held a piece of steel pipe stationary, about six inches off the ground,
while another pair of posts, about five inches behind the first, were
arranged to allow the insertion of a matching piece of pipe, only about
four inches off the ground.  Above and slightly behind the rear posts
were two two-by-fours descending from the ceiling, connected at the
bottom by a third piece of pipe.  I had set the height of this last
piece of pipe so that I could pull Shannon's arms behind her and hook
them over it, and she could still just kneel on the floor.  In that
position, the stationary piece of pipe on the ground would prevent her
from moving forward, while the moveable piece, once inserted, would
keep her from moving up or back.  She would, in effect, be held to the
ground at her knees with her arms hooked behind her over the upper bar.
A pair of handcuffs to hold her wrists together would prevent her from
unhooking her arms, and she would be held with her ass and front exposed,
her tits thrust forward by the position of her arms.  She would be able
to writhe around a little, but not much lateral movement was possible,
as the two-by-fours from the ceiling were only about two feet apart.

     I had not allowed Shannon into the basement since I had stopped
quizzing her, so, although she knew that I was building something, she did
not know what it was.  Somehow she knew better than to ask.  On Friday
morning I demanded a blowjob, knowing that I would need to have come
to keep myself in control that afternoon.  Shannon complied at once,
as usual.  She could tell that something was going on by my silence
and moodiness that day, but she asked no questions.  By midafternoon
she was pretty nervous, and was going out of her way to be nice to me.
I rebuffed her, which made her more nervous.  I was losing my mind from
fantasizing about what I was about to do, but I had to take a shit before
I could start.  Finally it happened.

     "Come here," I said gruffly, coming naked out of the bathroom,
my cock pointing like a sexual divining rod.  I took her robe off and
threw it in a corner, leaving her nude.  "Go get a pillow," I ordered.
Shannon left and returned in a moment with a pillow and an anxious look.
She still knew better than to ask what was happening.

     I took her by the arm and led her downstairs.  When she saw the
new piece of apparatus, she began to tremble and pull away slightly.

     "What's that?" she asked, her voice unsteady.  I didn't answer,
but took the pillow from her and placed it on the ground between the
posts.  I pushed her over so that she was standing just behind the pillow,
and drew her arms back behind her.  My cock was already quivering, and
pre-cum was evident at the tip.  Rushes of lust were coursing through me,
making my diaphragm contract periodically, and shortening my breathing.

     "Kneel,"  I ordered.  With a look of terror, but without a sound,
she knelt.  I held her arms so that they hooked properly over the bar.
I put the second piece of pipe in place between the posts so that she
was held down, and then secured her wrists with handcuffs.

     I stepped away to view my handiwork.  God, it was a delicious sight!
The thought of it brings my cock to attention even now: Shannon,
beautiful, young, trembling Shannon, her breasts jutting out, her ass
curving gorgeously, awaiting my pleasure.  I stepped behind her to take
out the new whip I had bought---a proper whip this time, not a rod---and
began to talk to her.

     "I've got a present for you," I said.  My body was jerking slightly
at the hips, and my voice was thick.  I took out the whip and, still
standing behind her, lowered it over her shoulder and let it snake down
between her breasts.  Shannon shook and made a little whimper of distress
when she saw it.  Her voice was a whisper when she spoke.

     "Are you gonna...I mean...oh god."  She stopped to swallow.
"Are you gonna use that on me?"

     "Yes," I replied, "I'm going to use it on your tits."  I brushed
it across her chest, making her shudder.  Tears came to her eyes.

     "Please don't," she said, "please.  Haven't I been good?"  She looked
up at me beseechingly, still not having, apparently, any idea of the
effect this would have on me.  I reached down to caress her tits, and
spoke in her ear.

     "Very good, Shannon, very good.  But, Shannon, it doesn't make any
difference.  I..." I couldn't speak for a moment for the rushing sound
in my head.  "I just have to.  Oh god you've got beautiful tits."

     I grabbed her hair and pulled her head back so that she was looking
directly up at me.  "Guess what, Shannon?" I said as conversationally
as I could.  "I had to take a shit a few minutes ago, and guess what?
I couldn't find any toilet paper to wipe myself.  I wonder how I can
get my asshole cleaned up?"

     "No, no.  Please, no."  She was really crying now, and trying to
pull her arms over the bar.  I walked around to her front and raised
the whip.  Her eyes opened wide as she watched it descend, and she
screamed when it hit her chest.  A red welt appeared at once on the
top of her left tit, and she sobbed when she saw it.  Her tears fell
onto her breasts, and the sight of them gleaming there drove me into a
frenzy.  I brought my arm down harder, hitting her right tit this time,
and Shannon screamed again and writhed around, trying to free herself.
As had happened on the occasion of our first "quiz," white liquid was
dripping from my cock, this time onto the floor.  My balls felt as though
they would draw up into my body.

     I began hitting her tits in earnest, making sure that I left no
part of them unwhipped.  Lines of blood began to appear where the
flail abraded the skin, and soon her tits were a bloody mess.  At first
she screamed at every stroke, cursing, threatening, and begging me in
between, but after about fifteen strokes she began to ululate constantly,
merely raising her voice when the whip struck.  The only time she
really screamed was when the tip would hit her nipple.  I couldn't
really hear her anyway; I was deafened by the rushing sound in my ears.
Tears ran continually down her face, splashing her breasts.  At around
twenty-five strokes, I guess, drool began to run from her mouth, and
her curses became incoherent noises like the sounds a deaf person makes
when screaming in anger.  Somewhere after thirty-five strokes I stopped,
almost out of control myself.  I backed away from her, panting.

     "I'm going upstairs," I managed to get out.  I went up to the
kitchen, partly to cool off myself and partly to give her a rest.
I forced myself to drink something cold and breathe deeply before
going back down.  I was more in control than before, but I knew it was
a fragile thing; I would have to be careful, or I would go too far.
Maybe I already had.

     Shannon was letting herself hang, exhausted, from the bar when I
came in.  I picked up the whip, and she looked up.  When she saw it in
my hand, she began to cry.

     "No, please, no more.  Please, please."  She looked down at her tits,
mangled and covered with drying blood.

     "Oh god," she said, weeping, "oh, god."  I waited for her to
stop crying.  She didn't, but in a few minutes her crying subsided to
a series of whimpers.  I walked over to her, the whip still in my hand.
I bent down, my head next to hers.

     "Shannon," I said.  I felt as though I was speaking directly from
my cock, without mediation from my mind.  She moaned, and I went on,
"it's time for you to lick my asshole."  She looked up.  Her expression
stayed blank, but fresh tears came to her eyes.  She moaned again.

     "Shannon."  She looked up at me again.  I looked carefully into
her eyes, searching for signs of resentment, of resistance, but there
were none to be seen.  She was too far gone for that, too close to
mere survival.  I continued, "You have to lick my asshole, Shannon.
Are you ready?"  She nodded, tears still falling.  I knelt down on one
knee and took her chin in my hand.  "You have to say `please', Shannon."

     "Please."  It was a whisper.

     "No, Shannon, not like that.  Say `please master may I lick your asshole'."

     "Please master may I lick your asshole."  Just barely above a
whisper this time.

     "Do you want more of this?"  I raised the whip.

     "No, no!  Please, no more."  Genuine terror in her voice.

     "Then say `Please, Master, let me lick your asshole, today and
every day'."

     Her voice trembled, but she said it.  "Please, master, let me
lick your asshole today and every day."

     "Almost.  I want you to mean it.  Make me believe it, or I'll use
this again."

     "Please, PLEASE, Master, may I lick your asshole, today and every
day?"  This time her voice, though cracked, carried conviction.  She was
really asking not to be hit, I knew, but it didn't matter; I had what
I wanted.

     "Yes you may," I replied.  I turned around and bent over, my ass
pressed to her face.  She began licking mindlessly at my crack, and
I reached back to pull my cheeks fully apart.  I really had not wiped
myself, so I was very dirty.  Shannon started licking without hesitation,
starting down near my balls.  My cock was jerking up and down with the
sensation.  When she got up near my asshole I heard her gag.  "Don't throw
up, bitch," I said, my voice hysterical with need.  "If you throw up I'll
make you eat it off the floor."  She whimpered again and began licking
enthusiastically, now almost at my asshole.  The fire in my cock grew
hotter, and I knew I was going to come.  "Lick it, lick it, you bitch.
Oh god, lick it.  Shove your tongue up my asshole, or I'll whip your tits
til there's nothing left."  She gave a little cry, and tried to shove
her tongue up my hole.  As she pushed her head into my ass the rushing
sound in my head became suddenly louder.  I felt my balls tighten, and
I felt them explode.  Cum spurted onto the floor as I howled, "Deeper!
Deeper, you fucking bitch!  Oh god, suck my asshole you cunt...  oh shit
eat it, eat it or I'll kill you, I'll fuck you with a knife, I'll cut
your tits off you goddamned cunt... ."

     I had never had so intense an orgasm.  Since then I have learned that
doctors collect sperm samples by attaching electrodes near your asshole
and giving you a jolt, and that is the nearest I can come to describing
the feeling: it was like electricity arcing from my asshole to my balls.
Even though I had come that morning, I came and came for what seemed
like hours, my cum shooting out sometimes seven or eight feet across
the concrete floor.  In my delirium I was smashing my ass back onto
Shannon's face, and she licked it as though her life depended on it,
trying desperately to drive her tongue inside me.  I let her continue long
after I couldn't come anymore, grinding my ass on her face, my cock hard
and spasming at the touch of her tongue though nothing was coming out,
my face a grin of pure animal joy.


Chapter Seven


     Shannon was changed in several ways by her first real whipping.
It had been a serious one, of course, more serious really than I had
planned, and it took her quite a while to get over it physically.
During this time she stayed in bed alone much of the time, and I often
heard her crying.  I knew that she was trying to decide to leave me,
forget about our bargain, and go home.  She was always polite to me,
and did as she was ordered, but she was withdrawn, too concerned with
her problems to pay serious attention to anything else.  I understood
what was going on, and left her alone except for two things: I made her
keep up with her schoolwork (though I forewent quizzes for a while),
and I made her lick my asshole and suck me off every day.  She performed
these sexual duties in an abstracted fashion, as uninterested in them
as in everything else.  Because of this, I got very little pleasure out
of them myself; I kept them up, especially the ass-licking, to make her
know, for at least a few minutes every day, that she was still my slave.

     Her breasts slowly healed, and after a few weeks were as beautiful
as ever; the whip had, miraculously, left no scars.  For a while I was
scared that I had damaged her permanently despite my promise (and intent),
and I made up my mind never to use such a heavy whip on her tits again.
Sometime near the end of that period she made the decision to stay.
I knew it when it happened, and not just because she became more cheerful.
When I took her into bed, she would go for my cock with her mouth, sucking
and licking, and then look up and say eagerly, "Please, sir, may I lick
your asshole?"  The first time this happened I was too surprised to say
anything, and just nodded dumbly.  She went back to my cock, licking
her way down now to my balls, and then went on to my asshole, which she
licked with abandon, pushing her tongue hard into my ass and jerking me
off with her hand.  I was so taken aback that I left her in control,
and soon came in her hand.  She moved so that she was facing me, and
began to lick my cum off her hand, staring me provocatively in the eyes.

     "Was that good, sir?" she asked.

     "Oh, very good," I choked out.  She reached her hand down to my
belly and rubbed the remaining come on me, then moved down to lick it off.

     "Oh sir," she breathed between licks, "please let me suck you.
May I suck you?"  Her hand on my balls brought my cock back to life,
and I shivered with pleasure.

     "Oh yes," I said.  "Suck me, Shannon, suck me."  Her mouth engulfed
my cock and she began to move very slowly, teasingly, up and down.
She had had a great deal of practice by now, and her mouth was as soft and
enveloping as a cunt.  She continued for a few minutes, then positioned
her breasts over my crotch and began to move up and down, rubbing them
on my cock and balls.  I was moaning and my hips were moving up and down,
trying to fuck her tits.

     "Oh, god," I moaned, "I wanna fuck your tits, Shannon.  Give me
your tits."  She moved up so that her tits were above my mouth, and
spoke again, breathing nearly as hard as I was.

     "Here they are, master.  They're yours, suck them."  I took a nipple
in my mouth and sucked hard on it, and she gasped.  "Oh!" she said,
and let her weight push her tits down on my face.  "Bite them, master.
Do you want to bite my tits?"  She raised herself up and swung her tits
back and forth across my face, and I caught a nipple in my mouth and
bit it.  Shannon jerked upward, but came down again immediately, placing
her tit just above my mouth.  I bit her nipple again, harder this time.
"Yes, master, yes," she said, her hips thrusting against my leg, "Bite
me, unhhh."

     I grabbed her by the shoulders and flipped her over.  I started
slapping her tits, first one and then the other.  Her hands came up
instinctively to protect them, and I stopped and looked at her.  "No,"
I said, "put them down.  Expose your tits to me."  She whispered, "Yes,
master," and lowered her arms.  I resumed spanking her tits, which were
turning red.  She started crying, but kept her arms down, pressed into the
sheets.  After a while I stopped, and she spoke again, her voice hoarse.

     "Thank you, master."  She buried her head on the pillow next to
my shoulder, still crying, and I put my arm around her, running my hand
up and down her back.  In a moment she put her arms around my neck
and brought her mouth to my ear, and her hips resumed their earlier
rotating motions.

     "Master," she whispered, "would you like to fuck me now?"  She began
rubbing herself against me, and took my cock in her hand, stroking and
pulling at it.  I rolled on top of her, but did not enter her yet.
Instead I took her tits in my hands and played gently with them.
She made a little noise, and I knew they were sore from her spanking.
She said, her hips now thrusting against me, "Oh yes, oh oh yes, master,
oh they hurt, they hurt.  Oh, master, will you fuck me?  Please fuck me.
Fuck my cunt, master."

     "Not yet," I said.  "You have to do something for me."

     "What?"

     "Take my cock in your hand and hold it."  She did so, and I
continued, "These tits---whose tits are they?"

     "Huh?  They're mine."

     "No, wrong."  I slapped the left one, not hard, and she jerked.
"They're mine.  Am I right?"

     "Yes, yes, you're right, master, they're yours."  She was flushed
with desire, her neck and face almost as red as her tits.

     "Then I can do whatever I like with them, right?"

     "Yes," she said, panting.

     "Even whip them?"  I looked directly at her as I said this.

     Her face showed her distress as the memory of her recent whipping
came back, but she said, looking me in the eyes, "Yes, master.
Even whip them.  Oh, master, ohhh... ."

     "Good girl.  Good slave."  I reached down and put my hand on
her crotch.  "Whose cunt is this?"

     "Yours.  It's yours, master.  Please fuck me, master, please."

     "Soon."  I reached around underneath her and pinched her ass
cheek, hard enough to make her squirm.  "Whose ass is this?"

     "Ouch!  Ohh, it's yours.  Please, master fuck me oh god I need it
oh shit oh god oh master... ."

     "I will if you answer one more question correctly.  Why do you exist,
Shannon?"

     She looked distraught.  She was shaking with desire, and she knew she
could not answer the question.

     "I don't know, I don't know.  Please, please, I want it, unhh..."
Her hips were moving up and down in an attempt to fuck the air.

     "I'll tell you the answer, Shannon.  You exist to give me pleasure."

     "Yes, sir, oh yesss..."

     "Say it, Shannon: I exist to give my master pleasure."

     "I exist to give my master pleasure.  Yes.  Oh, please!"

     "Good girl."  I entered her, and we began to move together in the oldest
dance.  I gave Shannon an orgasm, and then another, holding myself back.
As she approached her third orgasm, I wrapped my arms around her neck
and began fucking her vigorously, intending to climax when she did.
Her body was slippery with sweat, and her breathing was very loud in
my ear.  She moaned, and I knew she was about to come again.  As the cum
rushed up from my balls I heard her whisper, so softly that she could
not have intended me to hear, "I love you, master.  Oh god, I love you."

     She was mine.

--