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Suffering Students by V.P. Viddler (torture, inces
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.
torture, incest, degradation, underage characters. If these
things offend you, do not read.
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SUFFERING STUDENTS
by V.P. Viddler
16
Our school principal, Doctor fucking Pratt, had a bug up
his ass. He didn't like the rumors of immorality in the school
that were going around. I sat in his fucking office as he beat
around the bush for a while, but I was thinking, fuck it, why
should I sit here and be bored to shit by this crap? This bastard
is a man too, though it might not be obvious. He had a cock
down there somplace. So why fuck around and maybe fuck things
up? Why not just hit him with it straight out, and fuck the
shipmates? So I cut him off and I said, "Look, Doctor Pratt,
you want to know if it's true that there's fucking going on
in this school? Yes, there's fucking going on. Is there sucking
going on? Yes. Lots of sucking. Rape? Yes. Sodomy? You
bet. Blackmail of a sexual nature? Right. Torment and torture
and discipline and all that kind of good stuff? Yes. Yes,
I say. Yes! Okay? Now the only question is, do you want to
stir up a lot of trouble and talk and publicity and things--
or do you want to get in on it."
Well.
Old Pratt was huffing and puffing and going all kinds of
colors, but then he kind of stared at me and said, "In--in on
it? Me?"
Ahah! I thought. That cock is there, all right. "You,"
I said. "All you want, Doctor Pratt."
"All? All I want?" Pratt gasped.
"As much as you can take," I said. "Any time, any place.
And anybody."
"Anybody?"
"Anybody," I said. "I'll tell you what. I'll start you
off right. You tell me who you think is the absolute sexiest
female in this whole school. The one girl who turns you on
most. The one you'd really like to give it to. Who makes your
cock go hard when you think about her. Anybody. Any girl in
this school. Tell me who, and I guarantee you--I promise you
that when you come to work tomorrow, that girl will be here.
In your office. Waiting for you. Stark naked. Tied down across
your desk. Spread out. Unable to move. All yours. Yours
to do anything you want to. All naked and helpless to resist
you. And you can use her any way you want. All day long.
You can fuck her. Or stick your cock in her mouth. Or whip
her. Her tits, her belly, her thighs. Or burn her body with
your cigar tip. Or whatever."
"I don't want that," Pratt said.
"Oh," I said. "Well, what--"
"I want her to be brought to me," Pratt said. "I want
her clothed. Fully clothed. So I can rip them off her myself."
"Okay," I said.
Pratt went on. "I want her hands bound behind her. Her
wrists. Lashed together. Tightly."
"Okay," I said again.
"And I want her hair down. Down and loose. Flowing.
Her long hair, her long lovely blonde hair."
Pratt was glazing over. "Ah--Doctor Pratt," I said. "Okay.
You can have all that."
"Oh god," Pratt said, almost drooling.
"Just one thing," I said. "Who is it? Who do you want?"
"You don't know?" Pratt said. "The most arousing, tempting,
and snobbish princess in this building."
"Just say who," I said. "And she's as good as yours.
Which girl is it?"
"Not a girl," Pratt said. "Not a student. A teacher."
I hadn't counted on that.
"Who?" I said.
"Why, Miss Anger, of course," Pratt said.
"Ah," I said.
That wasn't surprising, actually. Miss Anger was without
a doubt the most attractive and sensuous instructor in school.
I'd sometimes daydreamed about having a crack at her myself,
and so had most of the guys. And the faculty, obviously. The
more I thought about Miss Anger, the harder my prick got. It
was true, she was a cold bitch. Haughty and proud. But shit,
what a body! Breasts as round and firm and bouncy as basketballs.
Legs that wouldn't quit. And curves all over that mouth-watering
torso.
What a break, I thought. Because I intended to get Miss
Anger for Pratt, and thta meant I would get a pretty good piece
too. But I thought it only fair for Pratt to have first crack.
So at eight o'clock Friday morning I, along with Henry,
escorted a struggling Miss Anger to Doctor Pratt's office.
With her hands bound in back of her, tightly, at the wrists,
as requested. Miss Anger was not happy about this.
At Pratt's door I knocked and Pratt opened the door, and
as he saw Miss Anger standing there he began to laugh. Miss
Anger called him a string of awful things, and Pratt stopped
laughing and told us to bring her in.
And then he punched her in the stomach. Hard, too.
I was taken aback, but that was nothing to Miss Anger's
reaction. All the air went out of her with a woosh, and she
bent forward, staggered back and fell down, long yellow hair
flying, and lay on the floor, writhing and gasping and sobbing
and spasming, trying to catch her breath, rolling helplessly
with her arms bound behind her.
Pratt was doing what I had never known him to do before.
Smiling.
Crying hard, Miss Anger tried to get up, but Pratt said,
"Don't get up, Rachel." And to emphasize that wish, he kicked
her viciously right in the tit. Miss Anger screamed horribly
and fell back again, her trussed body flailing, legs kicking
blindly, causing her skirt to pull up high on her lusciously
curving thighs, and horrible sounds coming out of her throat.
"Look at her legs," Pratt said raspingly. "Look at those
fine shapely thighs and calves. And those--those fabulous breasts!
How they bob and roll as Rachel twists beautifully in pain.
I've thought of you like this, Rachel. And now--"
"Shit," Henry whispered, "I didn't know her first name
was Rachel."
"Don't start," I said, but too late.
"Rolling Rachel," Henry said. "Rachel rolls revealingly
around the room. Rachel's rompers ruck up."
"You," Pratt said. "Shut up."
"Yes, sir," Henry said.
"In fact, go away," Pratt said.
Henry left with a long backward look. I started out too,
but Pratt said, "Not you," and I stopped. "You stay," Pratt
said. "Rachel, I want to sit here and watch you get raped by
a student. Rape her," Pratt said.
"Wait!" Miss Anger cried. "What do you--I'll--you can't--
no--no--no--NOOOOO!"
"Yes," Pratt said, watching Miss Anger with all his attention.
"Go on. Rape her."
So I did.
It was fun. First I had to rip off her clothes, and Miss
Anger struggled mightily, but as she did Pratt would kick her
hard, usually in a most painful spot, and she would cry and
sob and I would rip and rip and after a while Miss Anger was
naked. I slapped at her breasts and I bit her neck and I twisted
her flesh and I pinched her nipples and when she was howling
and bucking and choking with sobs and gasps and pleas I pried
her long thighs apart and threw myself on top of her and grabbed
her hair and jammed my dork into her pussy and fucked the shit
out of her, while Doctor Pratt rubbed his dick around her face
and came all over it, all over her beautiful face and har and
lips and Rachel was crazy with pain and horror.
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