the question

“Wanna know how to keep your slut and your dog occupied on a rainy day?”

Her eyes begged him not to. He held up his first two fingers which he had dipped into the hardened bacon grease from breakfast. His eyes grinned as he watched her silent struggle of protest. Tied up and ready for use
she couldn’t get away. His fingers drove into her pussy, greasing her insides with the tangy lube.

Sucking his finger, he sat in his lounge chair and looked at her, his lips pursed.

The scent of bacon wafted around her. And then he whistled.

Advertisements

“F”

(dragons ahead)

“Hands behind your back, miss.”

She knew the routine.

stand up. shoulders back. hands behind your back. head level, eyes up and facing me. 

She recited it in her head as he gave the instructions. It was not the first time she’d been reprimanded by her teacher. It was the first time that he’d made her stand here in front for the duration of the class and well after they had left.

She watched him grading papers, appearing to ignore her–unless she fidgeted. Then it was another recitation of his floor rules. The scraping of his chair as he stood startled her out of her reverie. She frowned to see the little pointer in his hand. Damn but she hated when he whacked her palms with that thing. It stung like a bee.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

What the hell?  she thought, though her mouth opened and her pink tongue protruded. He slapped it twice, firmly, before putting the thing against her lips like the bit for a horse.

“Hold this. Do not drop it.”

Her tongue hurt, damn him. She nodded, considering biting down hard enough to shatter the damned thing. He turned back to his desk and retrieved a wooden ruler. Moving to the front of her, his fingers rose to unbutton her blouse. She grunted her refusal but his quelling look stopped her. She didn’t know what he was going to do, but she knew what would happen if she dropped the pointer.

She almost gasped when he tugged her bra up, freeing her breasts. They fell, all 38 D of them, bouncing painfully. The ruler snapped across the top of her left breast, then her right. She bit down on the pointer, squeezed her eyes shut.

“Eyes up and facing me.”

He snapped the ruler across each nipple. Her eyes flew open as she squealed.

“A.”

She squealed again as he smacked each tit after he spoke.

“That’s the grade you might have gotten, had you bothered to turn in your essay.”

“B”

She moaned when the ruler struck again.

“That’s the grade you would have been able to strive for if you had turned in your essay one day late.”

“C.”

She tried to prepare for it, but this time he struck the sensitive round curve of the underside of her tits. Despite trying to hold it in, tears leaked as she blinked.

“That is the grade you might have earned if your paper had arrived on my desk two days late.

“D.”

Four strikes this time, the intensity turned up. Her nipples flushed and swelled into hard buds, while the tops of her tits began to show purpling where he’d hit the same place repeatedly.

“This is the grade that would have at least bought you time if you had turned your essay in yesterday. It would have been barely passable, and certainly well below your potential, but you still would have passed my class. Instead, you quit. Yes, you showed up, but completing your work is as important as attending. And you’ve done none of the latter for the past several weeks. My patience is at an end, and you will receive the full punishment of one of my recalcitrant girls.”

“F.”

All but hissing the letter, he attacked her tits with the ruler. She yelped as he struck her now-firm nipples, dropping the pointer. They both froze.

“Failure. You have failed your class, failed your teacher, and sadly, failed yourself.”

He pointed to his large oak desk. She knew the punishment for dropping the fucking pointer.

“Please Sir…”

His expression remained unchanged. Resigned, she turned, placing her palms on the desk. Flipping up her skirt, he tugged down her panties. She cringed as she heard the belt slide from his pants, bracing herself for the first blow.

“One, Thank you Professor Wilson.”

If she missed even one thank you, he’d begin again. Ten lashes were the minimum punishment; most students forgot midway through as his blows grew more forceful. It was always mesmerizing to watch it unfold in class. Having it happen here, now? No. She only wanted to be perfect so that he would stop.

“Eight, Thank you Professor Wilson.”

A hand moved between her legs.

“Only the worst offenders are sexually stimulated by my punishments.”

While he lectured her, his fingers slid inside of her, twisting and turning, until she shivered and quaked, coming hard. Head hanging, she yelped when the belt struck again.

“Eight, Thank you Professor Wilson.”

Her head came up a second later. No! Not eight…!

“I mean, NINE, Thank you Professor Wilson, NINE.”

His fingers were busy inside of her once more. His pleased laughter sent shivers through her, as did his voice whispering against her ear.

“Uh oh. Wrong answer. Thank you, little girl.”

Spring Break

It twined up her leg with a tenacity that was frightening. She’d been stupid to take the paddle board out by herself. She’d been an idiot to not leave a note, not tell anyone of her friends at the spring break house they’d rented together of her plans to see the dawn out over the open waters of the Gulf.

She hadn’t expected the sail to slip out of her grasp, and underestimated how hard it would be to right it alone.

And hanging onto the board, she’d been worried about sharks. It seemed something else was lurking in the dark warm water. It held tight, despite her frantic kicking. Another limb began to climb her other leg, and with horror she realized that she felt another around her waist. At first she’d thought it was Sargasso or some other kind of sea fauna. But it began to crawl up her. And stick to her. And it was everywhere over her now, around her middle, under her bikini, stuck to her breasts, to her thighs, to her (omg!) pussy.

Begging, whimpering, thrashing — nothing stopped it from crawling over her. It explored her. A single twisting tentacle stroked down her face, poked into her nose, into her ear. She kept her teeth gritted tightly, but it wriggled its way into her mouth as well. It tasted salty, and was too tough to even bite. Her breasts were squeezed as if she were being milked, and she regretted once again having huge udder-like breasts. How she hated those big hanging bags of flesh. And now this…beast…was going to rip them off her body.

But it didn’t. It continued to squeeze and tug, palpating them. It wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t agony. It was embarrassing how it seemed to turn her on. She didn’t know that she’d let go of the paddleboard, that it floated softly away. Entirely supported by the creature that was continuing its explorations, she gave up, gave in.

She was certain she was about to become octopi food. Didn’t they eat all sorts of creatures? Wasn’t she a creature to it, here in its native habitat? She relaxed, felt loose, not realizing that the tentacles were slipping neuro-altering venom into her. She felt hot, itchy. She wanted a drink.

An obliging squirt of some thick fluid down her throat made her swallow thankfully. Her vulva swelled, her pussy beginning to secrete its special juice. When the first tentacle entered her, her only thought was ‘at last’…as she spasmed through her first orgasm.  As the thickly muscled tentacle pushed inside of her, she felt her legs jerking, her hips trying to fuck though she couldn’t move. Her cunt squeezed down, nipples tightened as she erupted again. In the water, a white milky fluid surrounded them, which  made the beast thrash and dance over her. Her anus was invaded, but she somehow flowed with it, the pressure as it filled her something accepted, desired. The orgasms came, one after another until she felt empty, devoid of want or need or care.

The sun slipped over the horizon. The sky and water burned with hues from rose to amber. She roused, her arms wrapped around the paddleboard, her body lying across it. How the hell had she fallen asleep out here?

Leaning out, she grabbed the curved handle of the sail. It rose easily into the sky, and with the sun at her back, she began to tack back to the beach. The salt dried on her body, which felt sticky in the heat of the morning.

She felt awesome. What a hell of a start to the day. When she got to the beach, she saw Zach.

“Hey Emma,” he hollered.

“Where the hell is your bathing suit?”

He met her in the surf-line, helping her tug the board up above the high tide line.

“And hey…where’d you get all those weird red circles from? You look like you were hugged by an octopus or something.”