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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
18
Mr. Gibbs' anatomy class was the most popular class in
school. By far.
This was probably due to the fact that Mr. Gibbs had hit
on a method of instruction that illustrated his points so entertainingly
that although his lectures may have been a bit repetitive,
nobody was anxious to miss any of them. Especially the boys.
Mr. Gibbs' popular method, of course, had to do with his
using my sensuous Holly as a living illustration. But to gsive
him credit, Mr. Gibbs did try to put some variety into his class
sessions. For instance, he didn't always hang Holly by her
wrists, although that was just about the favorite position of
all. But he would on some days spread her out across his desk
and tie her spread-eagled; or make her crouch on hands and knees
on the floor; or just lash her wrists in back of her and make
her stand and take it. And so on.
Also, he did not always use the slim, whippy pointer to
impress his knowledge on us, and particularly on Holly. Sometimes
it was a long wicked metal ruler, or an old piece of rubber,
or a viciously whistling length of knotted rope. Or his belt.
And occasionally he would put a gag in Holly's mouth, so that
his classroom discourse could be heard without the interference
of Holly's screams and howls. But we found that those agonized
shrieks were so deliciously arousing to us that most of the
time the gag was not used.
On the day that Dr. Pratt came to monitor Mr. Gibbs' class
(at my suggestion), Mr. Gibbs chose to be classical. No gog.
Holly hanging by her wrists from the ceiling. Body dangling,
straining, legs kicking, tits thrusting and writhing. And stark
naked.
The lecture began.
"This is the human body," Mr. Gibbs said, flexing his pointer
with anticipation. "Female type. Note," Mr. Gibbs said, raising
his arm, "the breasts."
Whap!
Holly's scream was particularly loud. Mr. Gibbs had hit
particularly hard. He was outdoing himself for Dr. Pratt.
Dr. Pratt was appreciating it all to hell.
"The breasts," Mr. Gibbs said, "are more pronounced on
the female than the male."
Whistle. Slam. WHAP!
Horrible screams from Holly. Twisting of body, kicking
of legs. Hardening of cocks.
"Note," Mr. Gibbs said, "the nipples."
WHAPP!
Louder howling. Harder thrashing. Pitiful crying. Holly
wanted to beg him to stop, but she knew it would not do any
good. It never did. Soon, though, Holly would beg anyway.
She wouldn't be able to help it. And it wouldn't do her any
good.
"Note also," Mr. Gibbs said, "the thighs."
Whistle SLAMCRACK!
Eardrum-shattering tortured howls, helpless squirming and
twisting, more howls.
"And the stomach," Mr. Gibbs said.
Swish SLAM.
Horrible screaming, interrupted only by the most piteous
begging, pleading, sobbing.
Dr. Pratt stood up. Oh-oh, I thought. Maybe this is too
much even for him. But Pratt said, "Show us her thighs again."
"The thighs," Mr. Gibbs said, and slashed the stick across
them, making Holly's fantastic legs kick in luscious agony.
"And the breasts," Dr. Pratt said hoarsely.
"The breasts," Mr. Gibbs said, and swung harder than ever.
CRRRRAAACCCKKK! into Holly's round pink-nippled rolling tits.
Indescribably shrieks of unbearable agony.
And Dr. Pratt stood and watched with the most attentive
fascination as Holly did her helpless, involuntary dance of
pain, hanging in the air, body pulled taut, straining and aching,
dancing so beautifully in its mind-obliterating horror. Dor.
Pratt advanced to the front of the room, watching Hollys gyrations
at close range.
"I will continue the deomsntration," Dr. Pratt said. "If
I may."
"Certainly, sir," Mr. Gibbs said.
"Cut this girl down," Dr. Pratt said.
Mr. Gibbs did. Holly fell to the floor, still howling,
still squirming, wrists still lashed together. Dr. Pratt pulled
Holly to her knees by her long dark hair. With his other hand
he unzipped his fly and took out his stiff cock.
"This," Dr. Pratt said, "is a penis. An ereect penis.
And this," he said, twisting his hand in Holly's hair and pulling
her head back painfully until Holly's soft twisting mouth opened
with a squall of pain, "this is an erect male penis being inserted
into a female mouth." And Pratt suited action to word, shoving
his dork into Holly's mouth, all the way into Holly's mouth,
in fact so far into Holly's mouth that Holly gagged and choked,
bound hands rising frantically to try to push Pratt back. But
Pratt didn't move, and ignoring the gagging and frantic whimpering
and the ineffectual hands, he pulled Holly's head to him by
her hair, jamming that stuffed mouth hard against his stomach
at the base of that throat-filling prick. And holding it there.
And grinning. Grinning at the struggling, half-suffocateing
naked girl at his feet.
We could hear the sound of air whistling through Holly's
nostrils now as she strove wildly for breath. Pratt didn't
move. And didn't fuck Holly's mouth. Just stood there, holding
her face against him, tugging and twisting her hair, his cock
down her gullet, her lips distorted around its thick stem.
Until I could tell that he was about ready to come.
"This," Pratt said hoarsely, "this is a male penis--ejaculating!"
And at the last moment he tugged Holly's mouth away from him,
but still clutched her hair, holding her lovely face in front
of that prick as his gism spurted out of it, shooting it right
into her face, all over it, splashing it across that twisting
face, and as Holly gasped for air, Pratt's come spurted into
her mouth and she choked on it, choking and gasping and choking
again, squirming, kicking, crying with the pain in her scalp
and the horror of what she was going through, and the knowledge
that this day was far from over for her, and that when at last
it was, there was still tomorrow.
And tomorrow.
And tomorrow.
And when Dr. Pratt had drained his cock on Holly's face,
he took up Gibbs' pointer with a rapturous look. Holly shrieked,
and instantly flung herself at his feet, desperately hugging
his thighs and begging him, pleading with him frantically, wildly,
babblingly, not to hurt her again. Sobbing, whimpering, promising
him anything, and only making his cock go stiff again. Holly
saw that and collapsed with a hair-raising moan of pure torror.
Dr. Pratt put his foot on her body and shove her over so that
Holly lay on her back.
"No!" Holly babbled. "No no no no no no NOOO!"
And for each no, Pratt slammed that vicious stick with
all his might across Holly's helpless body. And only after
he had striped it all over, front and back, up and down, did
he stop and fuck her. And I fucked her, and so did all of us.
Our anatomy lesson for that day.
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