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Teaching Shannon - Part 4
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
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The following story is purely fictional. It is copyright © 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.
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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.
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TEACHING SHANNON
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.
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