Gender: Male Age: Secret Location: Between the Near and Far East
|Introduction: Sandra, a young teacher fantazises about her student while keeping a prudish external appearance. So when a man breaks in to rape her,she fears him yet hopes he'll be the guy. Is he? May be the beginning of a series.|
It is a curse of all young teachers, thought Sandra, that they have to do all the shitty work the older hags wouldn’t do. It wasn’t as if she was being paid for doing extra time like her dad was. She didn’t even get a bonus.
Not that she could do much . It was her first year teaching and she knew very well she was on contract. if they liked her she would stay if not she would again find herself in the college part time job at the food station. She needed this job badly and that meant she had to impress the seniors. And impressing seniors entailed staying after school to help out the physical training department handle the unruly boys training for the games.
This particular day, it was particular irksome for two reasons, one, because it was the end of the month and second, because it was a particularly hot day. Sandra, dressed in a white blouse that did its best to hide her 34C bustline, and a plain brown skirt, (she tried so hard to appear conservative and so impress the real prudes that she was regarded as one herself )was nevertheless feeling sweaty. It didn't help matters that the boys found her attractive (she wished this had been the case in college when she was a geeky teenager) and she had to be extra careful to avoid "showing " herself. To add to her misery Ms Clarins had taken the task of overseeing the girls.
so now she had to go under the sun to see a bunch of guys fight for balls. Sweaty stinky guys who'd likely be high on testosterone and ogle at her 26 year old body. Boys who were difficult to control for the seasoned veterans, and tended to gang up on newcomers and part-timers, if what she'd heard was correct. Sandra almost wished she had stuck to the food station job.
However, she had chosen the teaching job, and was reminded of it rudely when a rather exhausted Mr Jacobs turned up at her class. "Ms. Roberts, you've got to come. It's a nightmare handling the football and basketball teams together. I've already broken up two fights, and a third one's brewing. Maybe you could make them see some sense." Sandra doubted she could make 18 year old senior students see any more sense than the 6'3 190lbs Jacobs, but she knew it was her job. Closing her books, she got up, buttoned her blouse to the top and headed out behind the PE teacher towards the field.
Mark sat on a bench sipping an energy drink as he and the other football team members decided the practice team groupings. At 6'4 he was taller than Jacobs, and if the cheerleaders were to be believed, more handsome too. He was presently leading the team in the abscence of the regular captain, and quite enjoying the deference that came free with the job. Looking up, he saw that a minor argument had erupted between two players. Getting up, he stepped between the two and pulled them apart. Both looked surprised at the intervention, spat parting insults but didnt try to fight again - taking on Mark wasn't the best policy for anyone willing to retain his teeth. Smiling, Mark finished off the team breakup and the members began to put on their gear.
Five minutes after this, Sandra saw the students head out onto the field, their helmets glistening in the sun as they playfully shoved each other and split up, Jacobs shouting instructions to them. She didn't know what to do, never having thought her job as a geography teacher would entail such work, and not being too interested in games in general. Hence, instead of helping out Jacobs, she headed to the shade of a tree on the side of the field, and sat down, wiping her face to remove the sweat forming there.
Presently the game began, the two teams (to her atleast) wrestling for the ball as Jacobs jumped about waving his hands. For a while she found it mildly interesting, not because she liked the game, but because she found the boys, all 18 and above, to be rather attractive. True that she was far older than them, but she likely had half the sexual experience they or their girlfriends had, being a bookworm and a closet masturbator. Now, as the sweaty muscular bodies fought, tumbled and stretched, she found it hard to ignore their virile bodies or the fact that she was wishing (rather her body was wishing) she could be in one such set of burly arms, the strong muscles holding her like a vice and pressing her against the guy's body.
In particular she liked the captain of the blue team, a guy she'd heard was called Richards by the coach and Mark by friends. Among the tallest, his physique was one she'd always longed for in college, but found her own plain Jane looks insufficient to get one. Likely he too had a hot slut of a girl for his lover, maybe even two, but what did it matter ? She sat there admiring the way he tackled the lesser boys, dodged the hulks and stretched full to score for his team. And it didn't stop there. Barely had the whistle gone off that he was up again, adjusting his helmet and running off to fend off a challenge from the opposition, his face showing a steely determination that she loved and admired so much. Here was a guy truly after Sandra's heart.
Heart and body it seemed. Unconsciously she'd started imagining him as more than just a tender lover. Looking on, she felt a slight dampness having developed between her legs, her snatch itching for some attention. if not from him, then from her own panties atleast. She cursed herself only to realize that her gaze was riveted on him, her body wanting him as much as her mind longed for his tender caress. She crossed her legs again, the feeling in her loins refusing to subside even as she shifted time and again, her cotton blouse suddenly very uncomfortable against her erect nipples.
Just then though, she was saved by Jacobs. He was apparently miffed at her lack of interest in the game, and felt she should shoulder atleast some of his burden. So when he declared a break in the game, he walked over to the semi aroused girl and asked her if she would mind helping him in ways other than enjoying the tree's shade. Startled out of her reverie, Sandra had no option but to mumble a hasty apology and follow him to the edge of the field, the heat resuming its assault on her blonde head. Jacobs called off the break, his primary purpose achieved, and the boys gathered around the two teachers.
Sandra found herself dwarfed by the other boys, her 5'7 frame, by no means the shortest in college, appearing like a child's between the heavyset boys. Jacobs quickly introduced her to the boys, and she was promptly greeted by a few polite and some openly lecherous looks from the group. Feeling suddenly unsafe and not so sure of her authority as she normally did, Sandra instinctively looked at Mark, the clear authority in the group. It was stupid, she knew, for a teacher to look at a student for support (support for what, a part of her mind asked) but she found it reassuring to see him smile at her with a twinkle in his eyes, the sweat framed face atop the muscular torso making the young teacher go weak-kneed before she controlled herself and suggested (for her own good) that the boys head off to play. Mark smiled at her again, and ran off.
Once the boys were gone, Jacobs gave her an odd look, one that suggested he'd not been entirely oblivious to her arousal, before heading off, asking her rather curtly to stand at the edge and keep an eye on proceedings. But once alone, Sandra again lost herself in her daydream, the figure of Mark dancing in front of her eyes in ways it definetly wasn't on the field; dancing to a slow tune in a ballroom with her in its arms, looking deep into her eyes. She could almost feel his hot breath, her nipples pushing against his chest as he pulled her closer to himself and kissed her with passion, those manly lips grinding her feminine petals before pushing through into her....WHAM!
In her daze, she'd walked onto the pitch, and one of the boys had collided with her trying to catch the ball. Sandra found herself falling to the ground beneath his bulk, her legs collapsing and her torso being buried under him. Luckily for her, the guy didn't land right on her, saving her from serious injury, instead landing beside her, even managing to roll away safely as he himself lost balance and fell. Stunned nevertheless at having to stare at the sky with a helmet partially obscuring it, she tried to get her bearings, pushing at the guy as she tried to get up.
But as it happened, her arm was trapped under him, and he had to move for her to rise. So she turned towards him, weakly pushing at his jersey, but to no effect. He seemed to be more dazed than she, and was just now turning towards her, his body rolling towards her as it tried to get up. Her arm came free, but now her gaze was completely filled by the helmeted face.Mark! Her gaze unable to adjust so fast, all she saw were a pair of penetrating eyes inches from her face, looking deep into her own in that moment when the rest of the world had become irrelevant by the fall. Mesmerized by his gaze, she moved closer, feeling his breath upon her lips, wanting to take off the helmet to reach his face, kiss him and fulfil all her desires. Instead, she felt him reach out his hand. She freed her own to meet it. He brushed it away. The next moment it clamped on her tit.
The grip was tight, hurting her, making her want to pull away, to assert herself and regain her rightful place in the world. But he held her there, his eyes keeping her transfixed as his fingers plunged into her soft blouse and the delicate flesh within. The look was no longer friendly, reassuring; it now had a primal hunger in it, a lust mixed with an urge to dominate, to bend her to his will. He was testing her, seeing how strong she was, how weak her lust had made her. she could not pull away, even if she wanted to: only he could let her go.
With a brutal twist, he let her go, rising up, letting the sun in again, ending the close encounter to reveal the team and Jacobs standing around, looking concerned and a wee bit amused by the collision. Her tit aching and her mind in shock, Sandra got up and mumbled another reply to Jacobs. Looking down at her tit, she saw that the cloth was more bunched up there than on her other side. She wondered if the looks of amusement stemmed from this, whether this chance encounter and Mark's audacity would turn him into a folk hero and her into the stereotype of a slut. Would he tell ?
Lost in this fresh batch of thoughts, Sandra left after Jacobs asked her to head home and take rest. She barely registered the sarcasm in his voice as she headed off, her sexy ass being admired by the boys before they headed off to play again, their minds by now thoroughly distracted by the events of the day. Once the noise from the field had died down, Sandra stopped and heaved a sigh of relief. Returning to her class, she quickly picked up her purse and other belongings, and headed to the car, staying in automaton mode till she reached home and closed the door behind her. Then the thoughts struck again, this time with renewed vigour.
She could still feel the pain in her tit, the sheer brutality having left red marks on her boob which were revealed as her garments came off. Each finger she could make out, the places where the nails had dug into her delicate gland. Gently she cupped it, staring down at it, willing it to stop hurting so she could forget the incident. True, she had been fantasizing about him, but it had been just fantasies. She had no wish to get entangled in an affair that he could walk out of with high fives but which would leave her scarred, mentally and socially. She had no lover, had never had one despite having a 34-26-36 figure and reasonably good (so she thought) looks. But then she wanted someone her age, someone who could support her financially and emotionally, someone who wasn't her student. But the incident had happened in the open, anyone could have seen his fingers buried in her blouse, her eyes transfixed even as her hands lay uselessly by her side. What would they have thought? What if other boys hit on her now ? What if the principal called her and fired her for indecent behavior ?
Sandra tried to calm herself down. She wasn't going to be bogged down by the incident, couldn't afford to. She would just have to act according to her position, put the incident behind her as she resumed her teaching. And when the incident was safely in the past, she could perhaps....the memory of Mark's burning eyes came back, the lust and hunger in them, the will to manipulate. Then she'd found it inescapable, now she found that it had made a stronger impact on her mind than she had realized. As she looked at her naked self in the mirror, she somehow imagined herself with him again, naked this time, with his hands firmly on her globes, mauling them even as he pressed his muscular body against hers.
Yes, he would squeeze her hard. She'd offer her breasts to him, allow him to use them as he liked, let the pale grapefruit shaped jugs be abused as much by him, only by him. Would he kiss her ? She had never kissed a man full on the lips, such had been her cold exterior. How would it feel ? Rough ? Sweet ? How would it feel for her to touch his stubble with her tender cheeks, all the while looking deep into his hypotic eyes. Would he push his tongue into her mouth, feed her his saliva as he played with her tongue ? Would he kiss her neck ?
what else would he do ?with these and other thoughts going through her head, she headed into the shower, settling down into the water to dream on about her latest crush.
So immersed was she in her daydreams that she never heard the sound of a vase falling in the living room. she never heard the sound of footsteps, not the light ones of a thief but the heavy ones of a well built man who seemed to think the house belonged to him. she never heard him pause and laugh slightly as he sniffed at the clothes shed dropped on her way to the shower. She didn't even notice the light of the bathroom go out plunging her into utter darkness just as the bathroom door began to open on it's own volition.
or maybe not. Finally brought out of her reverie by the darkness now surrounding herlike a suffocating blanket, she saw the blackness split by a vertical line of light broadening into a rectangle. and within this welcome portal of light stood the frigtening silhouette of a tall man.
To her dismay, the figure began to gradually eat up the entire light, coming closer to her even as she found her throat had gone totally dry. The water feeling cold against her naked body, she raised herself and backed as far as she could, the figure now apparenty at the edge of the bathtub. Sandra began to move slowly along the wall, the figure apparently motionless as a thin sliver of light became visible from her altered position. Yet the apparition sensed this, and moved to block all light again. This time though, it did more than just move, it appeared to reach out, the shoulders bending slightly. Sandra instinctively threw her hands at the invisible ones of her assailant, and screamed.
Her palm had been pierced by something sharp - the figure was holding a knife! Terrified of being in mortal danger, Sandra curled up in at the corner of the tub, hoping against hope for some intervention that'd restore her normal monotonous life, ending this monstrous nightmare. Yet nothing happened for a second. She could hear another person's breath in the stillness of the dark, feel the throbbing pain as her injured hand hung uselessly by her side, heard the beating of her own heart as the second ticked by. Then suddenly, the figure again reached forward.
He had moved a little, intentionally perhaps, and Sandra now saw the glistening bloody tip of the knife inches from her face. Wisdom told her to back away, her body told her there was nowhere to move, and fear held her captive at the edge of the person's knife. Slowly, the knife began to rise, caressing her face ever so gently as it moved out of her range of vision, and then right in front of her eyes. The intruder held it steady there, apparently enjoying the fear in the face of the female as it took its time. It then lowered the knife to her throat and moved closer, the darkness now smelling of beer breath. "Move".
In an instant the figure rose to its full height, the knife withdrawn, having done the needful. But Sandra remained rooted, her mind blank and her body trembling from the terrifying developments of the past minute. The person waited, blocking the light again. Then it shouted in a hoarse male voice "Move bitch, if you want to live".Shaken by the anger in his voice, she tried to get up, used the wounded hand for support and tumbled sideways, howling in pain. As she took in a mouthful of soapy water, she felt a hand grab her wet hair and pull hard. Somehow managing to hold onto the edge of the tub, she tumbled out onto the floor.
As the cold surface shocked her body, she felt a weight settle on her back, making her immobile. The grip on her hair was not relaxed however, instead it was used to pull her head up, making her stare at her own bedroom, lit up the way she'd left it, yet now in a world she'd been snatched out of by the man sitting on her back. In the next instant though, even this vestige of light disappeared as something went over her eyes, being tightened around the base of her head and pulled in place roughly. The hand in her hair finally withdrew, leaving her with nothing to see and nothing to hear but the frantic beating of her heart.
The weight on her back was lifted, only to land hard on her uninjured hand. Had she known, she'd have put it down to the man slipping on the wet floor, but in the state she was, it seemed a deliberate move to immobilize her other hand. This view was strengthened as the grip on her hair returned, this time with double the intensity, pulling her across the floor by her mane. Sandra could do nothing but taste the tiles on the floor, her lips kissing the ground as her head seemed to be erupting in flames.
The man dragged her across the floor and into the dry bedroom, leaving a trail of water behind. Evidently he didn't want to slip again, nor have her die of blood loss. Leaving her there with both her hands refusing to accept her weight, the man returned with a towel and threw it on the prostrate girl. Sandra felt some cloth land on her cold back, and instinctively reached out, clasping it with her shaking hand. Seeing that his captive would be unable to get up, he kicked her on the ribs, causing her to roll over, before grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her up. Once in a sitting position, Sandra immediately wrapped her bleeding hand in the cloth, leaving red stains. With another prod from the guy, she began to wipe herself, inadvertently leaving red stains all over her body. After a prefunctory drying, the cloth returned to her bleeding hand.
If Sandra had hoped that the man may allow for some medical aid, she was mistaken. In reality, he was quite pissed off by her preoccupation with her hand, leaving her pussy and legs wet. Cursing, he snatched the towel and began to vigorously wipe her thighs and ass, pushing her over as he did so. Sandra could only mumble a protest as, in this position, her legs were thrown wide open and dried, the cloth being thrown away and the hand returning to her hair to complete the journey to her queen size bed.
The man, satisfied with things so far, decided it was not necessary to tie her hands, and so raised and dumped her unceremoniously onto the bed, her bleeding hand soiling the virginal white linen she liked so much. Using the now sheathed knife, he poked her in the ass, causing her to roll over in fear and raise her hands, clawing at the air against unseen threats. This made the man laugh in a guttural tone, as he surveyed the female lying before him. Hours ago she'd been a respected teacher of the school, now she was laid out like a five star banquet, ready to be enjoyed at his leisure. True, he'd have to cover his traces, but then, the way she'd reacted to him so far gave him the hunch that she wasn't exactly the fighting type. Maybe he'd have liked a little more fire in the bitch, but then he'd have to hurt her, maybe even mutilate her (the knife wound was useful but unitentional) , but now he could just sit back and enjoy.
The guy decided it was safe to leave her for a moment to secure the house. He'd expected more resistance, and so had left nothing to chance. Now he duly disconnected the phone and closed what windows were open. Checking things, he returned to the bedroom smiling. But the smile disapperead when he saw that she was gone.
But she hadn't gotten far, two metres to be exact. But she'd taken off the blindfold and was now applying some lotion to her hand. The guy realized he couldn't afford to be seen,not yet anyway, and moved silently behind her. Just as she finished her dressing, he pulled out his knife and placed it at her throat, her hands in no shape to stop him. stupid bitch, he thought, she should have used the time better to hide, than fix her hand. Now she'd pay.
she initially struggled, asking him to take whatever he wantedand promising to give him money if he untied her. stupid bitch she just wasn't getting it. he slapped her twice
As the girl again became motionless, the man withdrew the knife and retrieved the blindfold from the bed behind them. Having securely applied the blindfold again, he proceeded to tie up her hands, eliciting a rather loud protest from her as her injured hand suffered more abuse. He now moved in front of her, stepping back to admire her body as she stood there trembling in fear. Yes, she was as beautiful as she appeared to be under the conservative dresses. Everyone knew she was a prude but also a slut, who shunned men's advances, but secretly looked at them out of the corner of her eye, her hormones not allowing her to live up to the image she wanted to cultivate, one that could not be more different from what she was within, one that would do no justice to the sexy figure that now stood defenceless before him.
And sexy it was. Framed by her medium long hair were her 36C boobs. Well shaped, they hung on her chest like fatty globes, demanding the attention of his hands and mouth, waiting to be sucked, pinched and squeezed till they were bright red and the bitch was moaning like a whore. Yes, she would moan from those well shaped rose petals that were now trembling in fear. They would part in an 'O' around his member, giving access to the hot wet softness within, to her sexy tongue which would be put to use on his shaft. She would have to be trained.
The man's gaze shifted downwards, along the flat tummy and narrow waist that he'd often admired under a variety of blouses which tried to appear modest but didn't hide the sexy figure within. Now it was exposed to his gaze, available for his use, as was the special treat hidden by a mass of hair between her legs. This had truly been a mystery, given she never wore anything that would give even the faintest hint of pussy. Reaching out, he grabbed a handful of her pussy hair and pulled, making the girl jump and shake her shoulders, her mouth opening deliciously to say "Please don't. Not there..."
Not there ? Fat chance. He'd take her there, in her backdoor and in every part that could provide friction for his cock. Even her tits, now standing so proud against her chest, would make for an excellent fuck. Unable to hold back any longer, he reached out for her tit.
To Sandra, the touch of the gloved fingers on her sensitive flesh turned her world upside down. So far she'd hoped it was a simple robbery, one where she'd be tied up and made to surrender whatever belongings the man cared to remove. She'd heard of it, and believed her nudity to be a simple embarrasment, the knife a far greater danger than that. Now, she realized she was in for a rape, something she'd dreaded ever since she'd become aware of her sexuality. True, she'd been molested by Mark mere hours ago, but then she'd secretly lusted after him. She'd almost persuaded herself that it had been by some sort of mental consent, though that wasn't entirely true. Now, as she stood there, naked, injured and blindfolded before a stranger, she felt for the first time in her life a sense of helplessness she'd only read about.
The man seemed to enjoy the tremors of fear which caused goosebumps on her fair flesh and more importantly, made her nipples hard. The man now took one of these pencil eraser size nubs in his hand and pinched it, making her jump, her mouth opening to protest but allowing only a yelp that only seemed to egg him on. He now wrapped his fingers round the tit, weighing it in his hand, enjoying the way it
filled his hand. He liked the soft weight, the curve of her tit in his fingers, his hand serving the purpose of a bra for her exposed gland.
Sandra was by now feeling utterly humiliated,the very lack of aggression on his part making it evident that he knew he was in full control, that she could do nothing as he molested her. This became even more apparent as his fingers began to apply pressure on the tit, beginning to knead the flesh like dough. his fingers dug in, causing her increasing discomfiture as they compressed her tit more than shed ever done herself. he now paused,again to enjoy the softness of her body in his hand,revel in the feeling of control which he had over
the girl. He repositioned his hand,and dug his nails into her flesh.
Sandra,taken utterly by surprise,opened her mouth in a scream as her breast now began to positively burn from the assault,the fingers making deep grooves of wrinkled tit skin as they held her gland in a vice like grip. But he didn't even let her scream fully, his face approaching hers and pushing his tongue into her open mouth, forcefully ending her scream with a brutal kiss. Unable to comprehend what was happening she bit down on the invader, and was rewarded with a pinch on her hitherto untouched other nipple. her body demanding another scream to protest this new brutality, she controlled herself in time and remained passive as he ravished her helpless mouth.
As his tongue made hers play a perverse game inside her mouth, his other hand had fully claimed the second tit. with both tits captured,Sandra felt her chest beginning to burn from end to end, each globe an epicentre of her increasing agony. He was now proceeding from simply squeezing her tits to alternating between squeezing and pulling her nipples,the latter becoming almost unbearable with each twist that interspersed this pattern. But he didn't care. He mauled and mashed,twisted and pulled her two flesh bags in every conceivable way, laughing every time she tried to push him away ineffectually with a shrug of her shoulders or a shift in her position. Just as she thought she couldn't take anymore, he abandoned her tongue and clasped his teeth on her tender nipple.
Her mouth once again free,she let out another of those screams which, unknown to her,her molester was finding incredibly arousing. this time though, the pain was far too much,and as he repeated the act on her other nipple, tears welled up in her eyes,tears of pain as well as the realization that she was becoming a plaything in his hand. she was becoming fuckmeat.
The man now stepped back to admire his handiwork. The cunt was now trembling all over, her demeanor quite the opposite of the confident woman she was in school. Her eyes were blindfolded but the man didn't need to see them to guess the utter terror that they would be reflecting at the moment. Moving his gaze down from her tear stained face with those delicious looking trembling lips, the man was even more satisfied to see the state of her chest. Her tits,so pristine a little while ago,now had angry red patches all over,crisscrossing on her pale flesh before converging on her erect nipple. Yes,they must be hurting, he knew, and this made him hungry for more of her body to abuse, to break whatever remained of her will.
and Sandra appeared to be mustering it as he again reached out for her crotch. Somewhere in her mind, an alarm bell was tolling, telling her that she was about to be defiled by a stranger. Somehow all the training she'd received in convent school appeared to kick in, telling her to resist even if it meant hurting herself more.
so as the man began to push his fingers into her nether region, she began to back off,hitting the edge of the bed as she kept trying to avoid him. The man wasn't amused,this last show of resistance, though expected, making him wait longer to fuck her. He made his displeasure known by moving back and kicking her onto the queen bed.
Sandra felt herself fall,but was relieved to find the landing soft, and for a moment she wondered if she may not have dreamt it all. this passing illusion was shattered as the hands again reached for her Fanny, making her kick wildly to avoid him. Unfortunately for her,one of these hit him on the chin,and she was surprised to find the hands withdraw.
The same movement also appeared to spur the man to finally speak more than the single lewd remarks he'd been making so far. “Bitch, so you're trying to avoid me eh ? Saving yourself ? After all the times you've lusted after the guys, I'm surprised you're not begging me to fuck you. “ Aiming at her side, he landed a hard kick, making her howl and shift from kicking to begging, her whining voice helping the man get a hard on.
Behind the blindfold, Sandra was realizing that her options were down to zero. She could get raped, or she could get beaten and raped. Given the sadistic tendencies of the man, her body was more and more asking for the former, willing to bear the humiliation ot avoid the pain. Yet, her mind was racing, and not just because of the impending rape. His words had stunned her, making her realize that it must be someone she knew. Perhaps the man too had realized he'd said more than was safe, and she heard no more from him.
However, as her body gave up the fight, and allowed the man to run his lasvicious hands up and down her smooth thighs, her mind tried to focus on this question, if only to avoid the humiliation that was periodically returning, and which would soon be absolute when he violated her. True, she didn't recognize the voice, inspite of the rather long sentences. But then, she was new, and if it was someone from the sports faculty, then she would have scarcely any idea. Yet......who would want to use her like this ? Who would break into her house to abuse and rape her ?
As the man began to slap her thighs and run his hands over her pubic mound, her mind could not help but raise the name of Mark, the handsome and domineering player with whom she'd had a.....sexual episode (she knew it was really molestation). Could it be him ? Could he have returned for more, seeing how easy it had been to have her ? Could he be the man who was using her right now ? She had never really gauged his height in the doorway, and in her frenzied state of mind, she couldn't recall it correctly.
The man had now parted her legs, and was fondling her vaginal lips, occasionally teasing her by pushing a finger inside her defenseless hole, making her jump at the sensation. Strangely, this seemed to cement the guess in her mind : it must be Mark, now playing with his teacher's cunt as she lay blindfolded and helpless on her own bed. Even more strangely, she began to find it reassuring to think this way, and....arousing. Yes, the thought of the burly guy, who'd so remorselessly molested her in the open field, turning her into a fucktoy was making her body respond to his touch in a way the guy could never otherwise manage.
The man seemed to shift position and the weight on the bed increased, telling the girl that he'd climbed on. She was carelessly pushed further up the bed, her head almost hanging on the other side, her body splayed out on the bed for his pleasure. He now resumed his attack on her pussy, this time with his tongue, pushing her left leg over his shoulder to access better. As she felt a hot, wet and snake-like thing caress and push against her pussy, her mind became convinced that it was really Mark. And this only aroused her more, making her bite her lower lip to stop a moan from telling the man how excited she was.
By now though, it wasn't merely the thoughts of being violated by her student that was turning the young teacher on : the man's tongue was proving an equally potent stimulant as it drew patterns around her lips and along the edge of her pussy, pushing in to find and flick her clit occassionally. Sandra couldn't hold back any longer, and let out a long moan, which made the man pause and snigger. “What a slut” he said, before plunging in again, this time using his tongue to keep a constant assault on her clitoris, making the young woman's hormone levels rise rapidly, making her thrash about on the bed, desperate to get off to his ministrations. Amused by her rising passion, the man paused to readjust, causing her to almost go crazy from the sudden lack of friction in her labia. She now felt two fingers part her lips, and the tongue go deep into her, making circles an patterns on the walls, pushing her closer and closer to a climax.
Oh please, more....go on....ahhhhh......don't stop........”
The man was now pausing to call her filthy expletives (and had she known, position a camera to record her thrashing) which her mind barely registeres as it sought an orgasm unlike any other she'd had, one brought on by a man licking her pussy. She now curled her leg round his neck, trying to push him deeper and deeper into her precious area, one she'd fought to protect mere minutes ago. Did she care now ? If her mind told her yes,she simply ignored the voice, her pleasure, coupled with the “knowledge” that it was Mark who was mercilessly taking his teacher, proving too powerful for anything to stand between her and the oncoming orgasm.
The man had picked up speed, his tongue working hard to get her off, his eyes enjoying the sight of the prudish cunt now turning into a slut thanks to his actions, throwing all thought of protest to the winds as her body was taken over by lust. Loving every moment of it as much as she, he paused again to readjust, making her writhe and beg him to continue. What a sweet voice, how nice it sounded as it asked him to fuck her, to use her as his own property. He'd always known her to be a slut inside, and here was proof. He'd brought out her inner instincts, ones he knew she wouldn't be able to control. It was now time to make her climax like a whore.
Sandra's body was overjoyed as the tongue returned to her hole, now wet and begging for his mouth in much the same way as her mouth asked for it. She was by now thrashing all over the bed, caring nothing for her injured hands under her, nothing for the man, nothing except her need to cum.
The man sensed this in her desperation, in her contorted face and her clenched teeth parting occassionaly for a moan, her tits that seemed to have swelled and the nipples that reached for the sky. Most of all, he knew from the wetness that was flooding his mouth. He paused one last time, and then went in.
Sandra had been made to wait long enough, the pauses getting more and more unbearable as her passion mounted, her body unable to wait to reach her man-made climax. And now she came. Her body curved in an arch, her lips parted in a delicious moan turned scream of pleasure, her nails digging into the bed, her toes curled round his neck, her mind lost in an awesome bliss as her pussy came into the man's face, drowning him in her waves of cum, proving herself to be the slut he'd claimed she was.
It seemed to her as if she was cumming for ever. Yet when it ended, it left her wanting more. Yet by now the orgasm had completely faded out, leaving Sandra to face uncomfortable questions that she'd avoided up til now. How could she have been aroused so easily ? Even if it was Mark (and somehow she felt more secure thinking it to be him) how could she have been turned into such a slut in such a short span of time ? As her mind again took control over her body, waves of humiliation washed over her, making her feel more worthless than anything the man could make her feel. And the question arose, was she really a slut inside ?
The man meanwhile had moved out of her crotch, only to position his dick at her entrance. Yet before he mounted her, he took a moment to survey his handiwork, much like after he'd tortured her tits. Unlike then however, she was now laid out like a whore, her pussy juices making a stain in the bedsheet even as they dried on his face and her thighs, her body heaving from the effect of the orgasm, and her body no longer exhibiting any sign of resistance. She appeared to have thoroughly enjoyed it, and the man guessed she was now ready for her rape.
Parting her thighs further, the man used the lubrication of her pussy to gradually push the head of his dick inside. The fresh assault on her tender hole made the girl jump, yet this time there was no resistance. She didn't move at all, her body stiff, as if anticipating his assault and preparing herself for it. Yes, her utter helplessness had finally sunk in, she would now take whatever humiliation he had in store for her. With that reassuring thought, he push in all the way.
Sandra felt him push in, his dick huge for her inexperienced vagina, making her feel like she was being ripped by his pole. Yet she made no attempt to stop him, not even to readjust. He was inside, he had taken her, what else could she do now ? And to her despondence was added a perverse feeling of being finally broken and fucked by her student, her body giving in to the big guy just as it had back at the field. To add to this, the feeling of having her pussy filled was rousing her passion again.
The man held inside her for a moment before pulling out, looking for signs of the same hunger that had preceded her orgasm. This time they were absent, or almost so, a gentle thrust of the hips telling him that she was missing his cock. He obliged by pushing in again, this time burying to the hilt his 11 inches of manmeat , eliciting a moan from her. Excited at the prospect of making her cum again, he pulled out and immediately pushed it, rocking her body as he did so.
Her tits, nipples erect, bounced as he repeated his action with more force. Grabbing them, he squeezed hard, his nails rendering the same services as earlier as he turned them into handles for his fuck. He again pulled out, squeezing the tits as he did so, making her yelp this time. And in he went, repeating the assault on her tits, getting a moan in return.
Having found his method, he gradually picked up speed, his dick demanding it as his own hormones raged. He began sawing in and out, each thrust accompanied by a squeeze which made the girl yelp, moan and howl depending on the brutality of the squeeze. Looking at his fuck partner, the guy admired her body again, especially the way it bounced to his fucks, the way it seemed to be getting aroused again by his assault. The way she began to push back inspite of herself as she headed for a second orgasm.
The bed was now rocking with each stroke, the sheer speed and strength of the guy making the girl bounce yet holding her in position. Both were now aroused, rapist and victim alike participating in the sex as it picked speed. The guy was now fucking desperately, his face shining from perspiration even as the room was filled with the sounds of his grunts and her moans.
The man now grabbed her and pulled her to a semi sitting position, eager to kiss her as he fucked. To his surprise he found her lips moist and welcoming, her tongue playing with him almost like a lover's, or a whore's, his mind added. As he kissed her delectable lips, his dick was becoming a blur against her thighs, the two bodies banging against each other even as they were connected at the head.
Suddenly, the guy found he could hold it no longer, her sleek tightness and soft mouth almost pushing him over the edge. Yet he held on a moment longer, his hand removing the blindfold from his captive's eyes, allowing him to look deep into them, sensing their lust, humiliation, submission, passion and shock as he came deep into her, filling her with torrents of his potent seed.
They collapsed on the bed together, their expressions cemented to their faces, just as their bodies were to each other. The man wore a look of victory mixed with amusement, his mind savoring the look in the prudes eyes as she finally realized she'd been taken by one she knew,had interacted with earlier, just as his body revelled in the sensation of finally having taken the sexy bitch,having reduced her to a slut who'd cum for him and now had his seed filling her hole. He'd finally claimed her.
yet Sandra too wore a look of shock,one that wasn't merely because of the realization that he'd cum inside her. no,she barely registered the implications of this. her mind was more shocked at the revelation of the person fucking her. Shock and dismay.
Finally finding her voice she mumbled "Jacobs?"
(may be continued )
written by Pandorius999
Read 15360 times | Rated 89.6 (48 votes)
Vote list (Close) :
Lusting4You : POSITIVE
Please rate this text: