From the outside the Lookswell Beauty School did little to attract attention. Regina and Jennifer, two girls looking for a school, had no idea that it would be anything but another school to apply to. However, it wasn't too long before they found out differently.
Within a half an hour of entering those ordinary doors, both girls found themselves involved in stranger sexual adventures than they had ever experienced.
First there was Miss Ross, a good-looking woman who Jennifer was attracted to right away. Only later did she find out that behind that smooth exterior was a woman with bizarre sexual appetites.
Then there was Mr. Morgan, the handsome dark-haired head of the school. In a word, he was a sadist. He wasted little time in making his preferences known.
"He held her tighter. He turned the brush over in his hand and scraped the bristles tentatively across her raw backside, leaving welts as he went."
For reasons that neither of the two girls could figure out, they decided to stay at the school. That was when things really began happening. Mr. Morgan, faced with all these fine young girls, took complete advantage of his power as director of the school. And his special pet was Regina.
"With each rip of the hair clip she became fainter. Morgan tightened his grip on her jaw and pulled it up and back. She began to grow warm inside again. The room swam before her. She could feel Morgan panting in her ear and the juice began flowing down her pleasure hole."
Yes, the strange thing was that both girls, in their different ways began to like, and even crave, the sadistic torture rituals they were forced to become involved in.
"Morgan's arm was made of steel. She could almost feel its sinewy strength through the hungering leather tentacles. Tirelessly he whipped her to a froth. Her cunt was literally steaming with passion. She could feel the juice of joy dripping out of it and down the crease of her ass."
Even though the girls became used to this weird form of education, they were still shocked when they were confronted with the most diabolical torture scheme the school had to offer.. . and the shocks were real electricity!
CHAPTER ONE
"We've walked so much my corns are beginning to sprout," Jennifer complained as they stopped to rest on a bench. "Shit, this is a day for the beach not school-hunting."
Regina gave Jennifer one of her deep pissed-off looks. "It wasn't only my idea to look for a job, or get that crummy apartment either," she said. "What are you complaining about."
After sitting in silence for a while Jennifer finally said, "Yeah, I know it's just I'm so damned hot and horny it's really getting to me."
Scowling slightly, Regina said, "Don't you ever think of anything except that! I mean boys are nice and all that but that's all you think of. Don't you get bored?"
Jennifer put her arm around Regina and said quietly, "I think you'd really like it if you tried it. It's real nice. Feeling them pound away and getting wet and hot in your cunt. You ought to let yourself have some fun Regina."
Regina looked away to the distance for a moment like she were considering something she knew was true, but did not know how it applied to her. Then she turned to Jennifer and said, "Maybe you're right Jennifer. But right now I really want more than anything to find a school to go to."
They slowly got up and trudged off to the last school on their list that day. They had no way of knowing how different their lives would be after experiencing that last school.
Inconspicuously set along a quiet street lined with apartment houses and shops was the "Lookswell" beauty school. The windows were discreetly curtained and the simple sign called little more than cursory attention to the place.
Regina and Jennifer diffidently went in and approached a pretty rather heavily made up young woman with striking eyes sitting at the front desk.
"Hello there," the woman chimed. "Is there anything I can do to help you."
Slightly taken aback by her friendliness yet at the same time encouraged, Regina spoke up. "Yes," she said, "we're looking for a place to go to school. I mean do you have any openings in your school now?"
"Why, yes, as a matter-of-fact, we do," the woman said. "Are both of you looking? Because we have two openings right now."
"That's wonderful," Regina gushed. "We've been looking for so long and we were getting a little discouraged. It seems to be so hard to get into things these days."
While Regina was running off at the mouth, Jennifer was standing next to her saying nothing but feeling very strange. There was something about the woman at the desk which attracted Jennifer more strongly than she had been in a very long time.
Perhaps it was her tall strong physique or her fine shoulders which accented her breasts. Her white uniform looked almost regal to Jennifer. Her usual aggressive self-assurance melted away in the face of this feeling. It was a weak empty feeling in her knees and a fluttery one in her chest.
"Why don't you both sit down right here and fill out these forms," the woman said. "By the way, my name is Miss Ross," she said as she handed them both pencils.
As she disappeared into a room down the corridor Regina turned to Jennifer. "Isn't she nice," Regina exclaimed. "She makes me feel so welcome."
"Yeah," Jennifer said vacantly. "She makes me feel kind of nice too."
The girls were busy filling out the forms when from down the corridor appeared a tall rather handsome black-haired man. He carried himself toward them with his chin up, walking with graceful yet purposeful strides.
"My name is Morgan," he said. "This is, as I gather you know already, my assistant, Miss Ross. We are happy to have you apply to our school and hope our relationship will be a fruitful one."
Taking the finished applications from the girls hands' and glancing quickly at them he said, "I think, seeing as you meet all of the classifications, uh, pardon me, qualifications, we can dispense with anything further and admit you immediately."
Jennifer was more than a little disappointed when she heard Mr. Morgan tell Miss Ross to orient Regina. She had hoped that today she would get a chance to be near this magnetic woman. But Morgan motioned with his hand for her to follow him down the corridor.
"See you later, Regina," she said.
Morgan showed her the main floor, with the chairs, sinks and dryers. He discussed in his self-assured way exactly what the school did and how the student's were taught. Frankly her mind was only half on Morgan's description. The other half was on Miss Ross.
"This is the back room where you will change," he was saying. "We like all of our girls to look sharp." He held up the pink uniform of the students. He also held up a pair of net stockings, black high-heeled shoes, a smooth black garter belt and a skimpy bra.
"We also like out girls to feel sharp," he said with a slight smile. "Why don't you slip into these and then put on your uniform to get a feel of the situation? I'll wait outside."
With that Morgan abruptly left the room, leaving Jennifer holding the uniform and the undergarments. A little befuddled she slowly unbuttoned her shirt and took off her skirt.
She took off her own underclothes and put on the panties, stockings and garter belt. She squeezed herself painfully into the tight high-heeled shoes. Just as she fastened her bra, Morgan burst into the room and made straight for her.
With one arm he put a half nelson on her neck and head. With the other he grabbed down to the roots of her blonde hair and dragged her to one of the practice chairs. She was so shocked by the sudden pain she could only gasp.
He sat down on the chair and roughly pulled her down onto his lap. "C'mere you little bitch. Let me see if you really are sharp enough to be in my school."
The rough voice and the painful hands made her go limp inside. She wiggled only to make him squeeze her harder. He dug his nail brutally into the flesh along her hips. She could feel the garter belt tearing at her waist as he tugged it viciously. She screamed out.
"Shut up you stupid cunt," he snarled. "If I want you to say something I'll let you know."
With that he took a hair brush from the shelf behind him and weighed it carefully in his hand. "Tell me how this feels," he said in a rather reflective tone as he raised his arm and brought the brush down on her wiggling ass. Again and again the savage slashes rained on her squirming and suddenly pink and raised backside.
"I said shut up you mother-fucker," he growled, slamming her in the side of the head with the palm of his free hand. "You little tramps are all alike."
Jennifer whimpered and tried to roll off his lap. But he held her tighter. He turned the brush over in his hand and scraped the bristles tentatively across her raw backside. It had stiff, thick wire bristles in the middle and wherever he scraped red grooves were left in her welted backside.
As if seized by a spasm, Morgan pressed the bristles into Jennifer's back just where her curly blonde hair ended. Pressing down with almost superhuman strength, in one motion he opened a path of blood from her neck all the way down her back to her garter belt.
Jennifer screamed and swung her hand up reflexively hitting Morgan in the Adam's apple.
He bellowed and pounded again and again on her backside. Quickly it was becoming wet with sweat and blood.
"You like to hit back, huh?" he said. So saying he took a vicious swipe at her fanny gouging a patch of bloody skin off it onto the floor. Then he lifted her limp body off his knees and gave her a thudding knee in the stomach. She lurched to the floor.
"You might make it here," he said. "Come back tomorrow and we'll see how you work out. Get out of here."
Saying no more Morgan left, leaving Jennifer exhausted on the floor. Her ass was sticky and so sore it was excrutiating agony to remove the stiff undergarments he had given her. She slowly put on her own clothes and dragged herself limply out the door.
In the corridor she saw no sign of Regina or Miss Ross. The place had a deserted and dead feeling. She ran out the door and staggered all the way home. People on the bus gave her sidelong glances for she was sweating and shifting in her seat constantly.
When Regina finally got home at about six o'clock she was smiling from ear to ear. "Oh, I had such a nice time with Susan, she was so sweet and we got to talk a lot after the orientation. I think I'm going to have a good time," Regina said.
But the last two words suddenly dropped back down into her throat. She saw her friend start to cry and hold her head in her hands.
"What happened?" Regina said. "What happened?"
Jennifer told her friend the whole story, leaving out only that she was titillated and excited when it all began. Regina sat on the floor with her mouth open the whole time.
"I just can't believe it," she said when Jennifer finished. "They were both so nice to us, especially Susan. Oh that's Miss Ross's first name. I can't believe she's involved in anything like this."
"What do you mean you can't believe it?" Jennifer howled. "Look at what that bastard did to my ass," she said, pulling up the bathrobe she was wearing.
Regina had never seen anything like that in her life. The skin was grooved and welted. Scabs were just starting to form on the deeper cuts. The whole backside was mottled with bruises beginning to blossom.
"Oh my," was all Regina could manage.
"Well, I guess the only thing to do is to go to school tomorrow and find out what is going on," Jennifer said. "If Miss Ross is so nice maybe she can explain what's going on."
"Yeah," Regina agreed. "I'd like to tell her about all this and see what happens. Why don't we make some dinner and go to bed? You must be real tired."
But after dinner was done and the dishes put away Jennifer could not sleep. It was only her raw back and ass which kept her tossing until almost three o'clock.
She could not stop thinking about the feel of Morgan's hands pulling her hair and the rough way he talked to her. The brutal digging in of his fingers seemed to have left an imprint on her soul. So strong, so commanding, she thought and felt herself stirring inside.
Finally she dropped off into a fitful sleep thinking of the day to come. She dreamt that night of many strange things.
She dreamt of her father standing naked with a big whip. He was beating her naked mother around the breasts. Mother was screaming with each slash. But she was standing perfectly still with her arms upraised. She made no effort to escape nor did she cry out between blows.
Her father's shouts became more savage and lost. He leaped about Mother like an Indian doing a rain dance. Then he started pounding her full in the face with his fist.
Suddenly in the dream, Jennifer became her mother. Then her father became Mr. Morgan and the pummeling increased. She moaned as the blows moved to her breasts and backside.
"Please! Please!" she groaned.
"Please, what?" said Morgan's dream voice.
I don't know she thought. What can I tell him?
She woke up sweating and just lay in bed breathing quickly. In a long time the sun came up.
It was a much cooler day. Regina helped Jennifer wash her back and ass and they felt much better. Then they both dressed and caught the bus uptown.
When they got to "Lookswell" it had the same deserted look it had had when Regina ran out the day before. No one was at the desk in the lobby. No one answered their calls down the empty halls.
"I wonder if anyone is here today," Regina said.
Just as she spoke, Miss Ross appeared smiling from one of the offices along the long corridor to the rear of the salon area.
"Oh how are you?" she said. "I'm so glad you came today. I want very much to talk to you."
Regina emboldened by her feeling of friendship for Susan launched right into what was on her mind.
"Susan," she said, "What did Mr. Morgan do to Jennifer? Her back is all bruised and scratched. She was crying when I got home. Please what happened?"
Susan Ross put her arm around Regina's shoulder. She patted her head in a motherly way and smiled.
"Now Regina dear," Miss Ross said, "I want to talk to you about everything. Why don't we go in here," she said, indicating the door to a room Susan had not shown her the previous day.
Miss Ross handed Jennifer a stack of books and pamphlets as she was leading Regina away. "Please, read these," she said. "I want you to understand what's in them by the end of the day. Come now, Regina."
Regina did not notice Miss Ross lock the door behind them as they entered the small room containing only a light, a sink and a barber's chair. Nor did she notice the room was completely sound-proofed.
"Sit here, Regina dear," Susan said, indicating the barber's chair. "I want to make up for the things you think might have happened."
Regina started to protest but Miss Ross quieted her with a gentle hand on her head. She put her hand gently but firmly around the thin young neck of Regina and said softly, "I'm afraid you've both been very bad girls. I don't know what we're going to do with you. Right now though you'll have to take off your clothes."
As if in a trance, Regina obeyed. She began taking off her thin T-shirt and tight blue jeans. Susan just watched as Regina went through everything in slow motion. Finally, she was sitting in the barber's chair completely nude.
"How does that feel my dear?" Miss Ross purred as she laid her hand down on Regina's neck and down further to her fresh young breasts.
"I hope maybe this will make up for all the horrible things that have been going on," she said. "I know you must be very upset."
Regina started to protest when Susan put her hand on her breast, but she was filled with so much confusion and ambivalence. Is this right? she thought. Am I doing something wrong? What does all this mean?
While Regina was so immobilized by doubt, Miss Ross had gotten a pan of hot water from the sink and a tight black nylon corset from out the closet behind her.
"Put this on," Miss Ross said in a more commanding voice than Regina had heard her use to her before.
Regina started to say something, but Susan pinched her very hard on the back of the neck and slapped her full across the face.
"You wormy little high school creep," Miss Ross shouted in her ear. "When I tell you to do something, you do it. Now!"
In some kind of trance Regina found herself slipping into the tight corset. She wiggled it over her head and down her smooth voluptuous young body. The cool material felt good on her hot fevered skin. But the inside was lined with some kind of barbed studs which pressed into the soft flesh along her ribs as she pulled the garment down her lanky sides.
Along the inside of the greatly confining garment were exquisitely designed needle-like spines. No matter how she moved inside the thing they stuck into her like little splinters of pain.
Miss Ross came up behind Regina when she had gotten the thing down over her now semi-erect nipples . . . With a vicious swipe Miss Ross grabbed the two aisles of the back of the corset and yanked them together.
Regina screamed as she had never screamed in her whole life. The pain was so intense she thought she would pass out. Why is she doing this to me? she thought.
But her thoughts were interrupted by Miss Ross's twisting the leather thongs on the back of the corset tighter and tighter. She could feel the dimpled flesh on her back pucker between the pain producing strands.
She began a scream, but it was literally choked off by the hand of Susan coming around her supple neck and squeezing.
Harder and harder she squeezed. The more Regina tried to choke out a scream, the harder Miss Ross crushed. Her nails began to dig into the tendons along the side of Regina's neck. The blood pounded up through the half-blocked arteries giving Regina a stoned, heady feeling.
Still Miss Ross tightened her grip. Her hands began to inch their way around to the front of Regina's neck. Her tender windpipe was exposed and her head thrown back.
Miss Ross made sure her head would not move. She grabbed Regina's long black hair and twisted it around her strong hand. Once, twice, thrice she twisted. Then she was ready.
All of a sudden, Miss Ross tore at the roots of Regina's hair. At the same time she closed her vise-like grip on Regina's vital breathing tube.
Blacker and blacker things began to swim in Regina's head. Yet at the same time down deep in her belly she felt the stirrings of some force and feeling. Like a little snake wound down around her genitals with its tale in her heart.
"Oh, Oh," she began to moan.
"That's it, baby," Miss Ross crooned angrily. "You like that, don't you? They all do, in the end."
Regina's feeling was now a terrible lust to be degraded and debased. She wanted things done to her. Unspeakable things, anything so long as Susan did them to her.
As if reading her mind, Miss Ross whipped around and grabbed the scalding hot water from the sink behind her. She moved her powerful hand from off Regina's neck and clamped it permanently around her mouth.
"Now we'll see how you squirm you little cunt."
At that she poured the hot water down Regina's uptilted nose. Down her windpipe the choking water ran. Regina reared back and tore at Miss Ross's restraining grip. Her agonized nostrils cried out for air. But Miss Ross held tighter and poured down more drowning liquid.
Regina felt as if she would die if she could not breathe. With an unintelligible animal shriek she tried to burst the bonds confining her. But Miss Ross responded with the flat of her hand down on Regina's face.
The pain was like a tearing of living nerves. Regina grew faint and through the haze of faintness felt Miss Ross raining blows down on her face and corset squeezed tits.
Finally Regina passed completely out. When she woke up, what seemed years later the first thing she noticed was that the corset was now much tighter than before. She could feel every little needle and stud. She imagined the blood oozing inside the fiendish nylon tube.
What she then noticed was that she was kneeling sideways on the chair with her boobs hanging over one arm and her shins painfully up on the other arm.
She was wearing nothing on her body, but the corset and her backside was high in the air. She could feel cool air on her quim as her legs parted at the crack. She felt completely exposed and that made her dizzy with excitement.
Suddenly she felt a searing pain on her goose-bumped ass. Unseen behind her was Miss Ross waving a leather strap high over her head.
"We want discipline here," she screamed in a scorching voice. "You'll see what it means to disobey my commands. You'll have to pay now, my creamy little tit-jiggling baby."
As if pressed on by her own screams, Miss Ross's blows rained down with more and more force. The strap slashed through the air and crashed again and again on her helpless backside.
In anguish Regina tried to rise from the chair. It was only then that she discovered her arms tied at the wrist with some kind of electrical cord. Around her wrist tighter than she thought she could stand the cord was twisted. The other ends were attached to the bottom of the barbers chair rendering her helpless.
She was terrified and confused. Her insides were a boiling mass of passion. Somewhere deep down in her primal nature she loved what was being done to her. Yet she felt humiliated and tricked by her friend.
The pain increased. She could hear Miss Ross spitting and felt her asshole grow wet.
"You shit," Miss Ross screamed. "You want more? That's what you want isn't it?"
"No, please," Regina groaned.
"Yes, yes," Miss Ross bellowed.
As the sibilant sound left Miss Ross's curled lips she plunged her long-nailed finger into Regina's asshole all the way up to the hand.
Regina cried out and writhed in pain. But Miss Ross was implacable. She twisted her finger deep inside the humiliated girl sending quivers of pain up through her abdomen.
With her other hand Miss Ross grabbed the soft elastic flesh on the underside of Regina and dug her nails deeply into it. The grappling tearing was passion at its peak.
Regina felt ripped open and torn from both sides. Deep inside her rectum she felt the searching nails of Miss Ross probing her tender flesh. On her shapely underbelly she could feel nothing but a clawing, like a raven tearing at the eyes of a little squirrel.
Regina slowly became aware of other panting besides her own. Miss Ross's breath was coming short and fast. Miss Ross's finger moved wildly within her suppurating hole.
Regina could feel Miss Ross move closer. The heat of her body through her tight-fitting uniform was intense.
Suddenly Regina felt the feel of damp cunt-wet nylon on the back of her heel. Miss Ross was straddling the tight painful high-heels which she had jammed on Regina's feet while the young girl was unconscious.
"Up, up, up," she cried as she moved more frantically on the shiny leather projectiles.
Miss Ross twisted her body down so the sharp heel of Regina's shoe pressed into the warm crack beneath the tight panties she wore.
"In, in," Miss Ross screamed as she pressed harder and harder against Regina's leg. Her hand went to Regina's backside. Her slavering mouth found the tender helpless orbs. Susan Ross began chewing and gnawing like a rat on Regina's recumbent fanny.
Like a starving animal, Miss Ross tore till blood dripped from the teeth marks. Regina pressed against the onslaught. Within her she felt an explosion of all feeling and she longed only to be eaten and devoured.
"I'm glad to see that at last you're getting into the spirit of our fun and games, my little pet," Miss Ross said, her tone rippling with pleasure as she pulled herself up on her feet once again, without ever taking her eyes from the delicious sight of Regina's upturned and naked backside.
Suddenly relieved by the removal of Miss Ross from her aching flesh, Regina sighed and shuddered, trying to regain her equilibrium. Her body felt as though it had been ripped and torn beyond repair. Every muscle ached, every fiber and nerve ending felt raw and exposed. She had no idea how she had managed to live through this inhuman ordeal for so long, and still, inside herself, she knew that the torture and punishment session was far from over.
"Now, we'll really get down to some fun and games," Miss Ross said, as she hurried to remove her clothing.
Her fingers trembled with buttons and hooks, but she was determined to strip herself naked and thereby allow herself the fullest amount of pleasure from her bound and helpless victim's body. She sighed, deep in her throat as pleasure overwhelmed her.
"You are going to be punished like you've never even dreamed of," the woman said, sliding her shaking hands up and down the insides of her thighs, cupping her hot pussy as she spoke.
Regina could not suppress a chilling shudder of dread that ran through her pained and aching body at the sound of the woman's voice. What she felt, to be sure, was a mixture of fear and fascination. There was something about the woman's tone . . . something about the way the woman chose and phrased her words when she talked about punishment and discipline that Regina found highly exciting.
It was amazing to herself, but she could not deny that, despite the pain and discomfort she was experiencing, she was also experiencing a strange sort of pleasure. It was throbbing, softly, deep down inside her cunt. What was it about herself that seemed to enjoy this humiliation, she wondered. Why was it that even though she was being brutalized, there was something about that very treatment that made her feel comfortable.
It was all very strange, to be sure. But she knew, also, that she had seen only the beginning of the bizarre adventure that was in store for her at the hands of Miss Ross.
Miss Ross, breathing heavily and glassy-eyed with excitement, now, had stripped herself completely and was freely finger-fucking herself while taking in the exciting view of Regina's bound and helpless form. Her eyes moved slowly, lingeringly, along the scantily-veiled supine shape that trembled in sorry expectation of the torture that was to follow.
"You are a beautiful sight, my dear," she said, inserting a long-nailed middle finger into her dripping pussy slit and toying with the sensitive and highly-responsive clit inside. "It is going to be my extreme pleasure to give you the beating of your life and teach you what folly it is to disobey me . . . ever!"
"Please," Regina begged, in a voice that came out sounding tiny and frightened. "No more pain. Don't hit me or hurt me again. I'll do anything you say, anything you want."
"Exactly right, pretty," Miss Ross agreed, with a lewd grin, as she slipped a second finger into her throbbing cunt and diddled her hot hole. "You're going to be doing more than you ever dreamed of!"
With that, she advanced, once again, in the direction of the helpless, half-naked girl. When she was standing beside the chair, she stretched one hand out in front of her and curved her fingers to the gently rounded slope of Regina's upturned, bare ass.
Regina gasped as the woman's hand made contact with her bare flesh. She hadn't meant to let any sound out, but the sharp reality of physical contact again, made her entire body respond with acute alertness.
Miss Ross pressed the tips of her fingers into the soft flesh of Regina's buttocks and lingered on the satin-smooth hills of womanliness. She slid her palm lightly over one voluptuous ass cheek and then the next, enjoying the notion that this delaying action was almost as tortuous to her victim as the actual act of beating or punishing.
Now, Miss Ross slid her long, skillful fingers into the crack of Regina's ass and rubbed her way down to the girl's pussy lips. Regina cried out but said nothing, as the fingers of her captor toyed with the delicate portals to her womanhood.
"I'm going to rip that cunt of yours into shreds," Miss Ross announced, her tone sounding as though she were actually proud of what she considered a worthwhile accomplishment. "By the time I'm through, a horse will be able to fuck you and you might not even know that your hole is being plugged."
With that, she thrust three fingers into Regina's helpless cunt, tearing at the tender walls of the girl's hole and ripping the sensitive flesh.
Regina was no longer able to keep herself from crying out. As she felt the inside of her delicate hole being raked by Miss Ross' long fingernails, she groaned in pain and thrashed back and forth, straining within her bond until her flesh hurt where the lamp cord was tightly tied.
"Think you can escape, eh?" Miss Ross growled. And with that, she raised one hand high above her head and brought it down sharply, stinglingly across the naked rump.
Regina wailed from the pain of the slap and tried to keep herself from saying anything that would cause the other woman to become angrier and possibly hurt her even worse. She bit down on her lower lip. fighting to hold back the tears of pain and humiliation that were welling under her lids.. . but the effort was in vain.
Great, pearl-like drops fell from her eyes and stained her silken cheeks. Finally, unable to endure the pain any longer, she wailed at the pain that she felt and started to scream at the tops of her lungs.
"that's good, scream your little lungs out," Miss Ross said, without trying to disguise the pleasure in her tone. Obviously, she was enjoying every bit of Regina's suffering . . . and meant, in fact, to add quite a good deal more to it.
Without warning, she pulled her fingers out of the girl's torn and bleeding cunt and walked around to the side of the chair where Regina's head was suspended. Cruelly, Miss Ross twisted her long fingers into the girl's head and forced it up.
"Suck my cunt," Miss Ross, commanded. "And you better do a good job, my dear, or else I have a lovely little whip to use on you."
Regina knew that it would be foolish and pointless to even try to protest. As she saw the black bush of pussy hair being moved closer to her tear-stained face, she extended her tongue and waited for the flesh to approach her.
Miss Ross parted her thighs and tilted her pelvis forward, thrusting her pussy directly into the face of the suffering girl. Regina's features were lost from sight as Miss Ross' thighs caught in a viselike grip and held the girl's head in place.
"Get that tongue all the way in ere," Miss Ross commanded. "Eat me out and do a good job . . . or I promise you, you'll regret it."
The aroma of hot cunt filled her nostrils and made Regina's head spin. She closed her eyes. The trembling pussy lips moved upon her.
And suddenly, she felt as though her entire being was engulfed by Miss Ross' demanding pussy. The lips seemed to spread of their own accord and wrap themselves around Regina's snakelike tongue.
"Suck!" Miss Ross screamed, her tone changing suddenly to one of high intensity and obvious arousal. "Eat my box, slave! Suck!"
And with that, she leaned forward and slapped Regina resoundingly across the tops of her already-welted ass cheeks.
Regina's shriek was lost in the vibrating folds of Miss Ross' quivering cunt. She tasted the strong, pungent flavor of the woman's quim juice as it dripped copiously into her sucking mouth. She had to swallow repeatedly to keep from having the stickly liquid dribble down her chin . . . and even then, after a few minutes, the flow was much too full to control.
Regina slurped loudly, aware despite her discomfort, of a strengthening of sensation down between her own legs. The awareness that she was not only a prisoner, but being forced to eat another woman's cunt was having its undeniable effect on her body.
She felt her own pussy starting to moisten with the evidence of arousal. Deep inside the folds of her cunt, she felt the little bud of her clit starting to harden and become alert. She wished that she were able to reach around and shove a couple of fingers into her own slot.
The thought of what it would feel like to have something stuck way up inside her box made her shudder with an even greater feeling than she had been experiencing before. Without thinking about it, really, she started to suck on the woman's cunt even faster than she had been doing.
Miss Ross responded to this by crying out loudly as she felt tne warm sensation of Regina's tongue, sliding up and down in between the folds of her pussy lips. She leaned her head back and gave herself over completely to the pleasures of having her most sensitive flesh stroked and attended to by the wiggling excitement of Regina's tongue.
The sensations were exquisite.
She wrapped her cruel fingers around a long handled whip. As she groaned loudly she brought the snake like leather thong through the air and aimed it perfectly . . . so that it landed with a resounding snap right between the cheeks of Regina's ass.
Now, Regina's screaming could be clearly heard as she raised her voice and cried out in agony. Her face was pale and her entire body shook from the sensation of the whip, landing against her ass and pussy.
She felt a dripping sensation in between her legs and she knew that she must be bleeding. Her pussy felt, actually, as though it had been shredded and she wondered if she was ever able to be going to heal from the wounds that this woman was inflicting upon her.
"Spread your legs," Miss Ross ordered, and brought the whip down again.
Regina screamed as she felt the lash cut cruelly across the backs of her thighs, making her head spin from the pain. Still, she spread her legs, with great effort, fearful that if she didn't tne whip would fall again and cut her flesh to ribbons.
The bonds around her legs made it impossible for Regina to part them more than just the slightest bit. Realizing this, Miss Ross hurried around to the other side of the chair to free the lower half of her prisoner's body and thereby make it that much more accessible.
As soon as the cords were loosened from around her ankles, Regina moved her legs, trying to work some of the stiffness out of them. However, in so doing, she afforded Miss Ross an even better view of her pussy lips from behind.
The woman plunged the handle of the whip toward the inviting opening, hitting her goal directly on target. The thick, leather handle disappeared in between the lips of the poor girl's cunt, burying itself a good nine or ten inches inside Regina's pain filled body.
Regina screamed in anguish and thrashed about wildly, trying to rid herself of this latest, most excruciating imposition. However, the handle of the whip was imbedded far too deeply inside of her to dislodge without the aid of her fingers. She whimpered miserably and begged the woman to take it out.
Instead of complying with her victim's pleading request, Miss Ross gripped the whip more tightly and shoved it another couple of inches into Regina's trembling body. Tne girl moaned in pain and trembled. The breath caught in her lungs and she feared that she was going to pass out in agony.
Miss Ross started a slow, steady, in and out motion with the handle of the whip. She fucked the girl with her instrument of torture, knowing that after a few minutes, Regina was going to have to respond to the internal stimulation against her clitoris.
Regina groaned . . . a combination of pain and pleasure, as the leather tool slid in and out of her bloody, wet vagina. Reflexively, she started to buck her hips and rotate her pelvis in tempo with the stroking of the whip handle.
While she was distracting her victim with this internal massage, Miss Ross reached over and wrapped her fingers around an enormous wooden dildo. The thick, imitation prick was easily three inches in diameter and a foot long. For a moment, she held it out in front of her. It was a mean, cruel looking weapon and the woman knew exactly how she could use it to offer herself the utmost pleasure.
Without warning, she brought the tip of the false cock up against the opening to Regina's ass. Then, thrusting with all her strength, she sank the wooden pole half way into the girl's rectum and held it there.
Regina's scream filled the air around them as she felt the enormous cock invading her tender asshole. It seemed as though she were being torn apart, split in two by the plugs in each of her sensitive holes.
"Stop that, you bitch!" she screamed . . . and even before the words were out of her mouth, she was sorry for having said them.
Miss Ross yanked both rods out of the girl's body. "I'll show you what happens when you speak to me like that," she said. Then, hurrying across the room she searched for, and found, an enema bag.
The water was still boiling, and the woman poured it carefully until the rubber bag was filled to the brim. Thick steam came billowing out of the top of the appliance as Miss Ross carried it back toward her struggling, but still helpless victim.
The older woman took tile tube and shoved it cruelly into Regina's cunt. Forcefully, she pushed the nozzle higher and higher until it was buried far up inside the walls of the girl's bleeding pussy.
Then, laughing maniacally, Miss Ross opened the clasp to let the boiling water flow . . .
CHAPTER TWO
When Regina woke up it was many hours later. The room was completely dark. No light seeped in from anywhere. For a long time she just lay on the floor.
On her wrists there still lay the electric cords which had bound her during the terrible ordeal inflicted by Miss Ross. She thought of Miss Ross and began to cry.
Why, she thought, had her friend been so cruel to her? Why had she turned on her like that?
Her body still ached from the beating and her asshole felt as if someone had been probing it with a poker. She lay on the cold tiled floor. She could feel her own blood and sweat coating the slippery hard surface.
She was dressed just as she had been when the episode ended. She had on the corset and the high-heels. For a long time she just lay like that on the floor in the dark.
The dark was like the feeling she had had when Susan was beating her. It felt frightening but it felt good. To just give herself up to the dark was what she told herself she wanted.
Her back ached. Her knees were all bruised from the edge of the chair. But the bruises and the aches were nothing compared to pleasing Susan. To let her do those things to her was a full pleasure unto herself.
To be taken and hurt made her feel right and warm as she lay there in the dark. Now that Susan had left her in the dark like this she longed for her return.
Yet during the wonderful beating, did it hurt so much? she thought. Susan was so angry at her. Was she really that angry? All the curses and pain made her feel so good. But yet, did it have to be that way. Why could not things be nice?
Regina thought back on what happened to Jennifer the day before. She smiled a little to think of her own skepticism about Morgan's beating Jennifer. But even though she had been such a child to have thought such things could not go on, there was something strange in the way Jennifer told her tale.
It was as if she had left out some vital element in the stew.
All of a sudden it struck Regina, that perhaps Jennifer liked being beaten very much indeed. Perhaps she really dug it! That was it!
Why else would Jennifer seem so eager to return, so loath to warn Regina about what happened. In the dark Regina began to feel the dark of her mind creeping around her.
If Susan could turn on her, then why couldn't Jennifer do the same thing? Maybe Jennifer, Morgan and Miss Ross were in this whole thing together to take advantage of her. Regina lay there in the dark feeling very sorry for herself and filled with suspicion.
It occurred to her that it would be so easy to trick her. She was such a ninny sometimes, she thought. No one in high school really liked going out with her because she never knew the score. All the other girls always seemed so wise and worldly but she always seemed dumb.
Now her best friend and new friend both seemed to be taking advantage of her again. How could life be so cruel sometimes.
But like a small animal burrowing in the dark, the truth impinged itself upon her. She really liked being beaten. How was she any different from Jennifer? she accused herself. What was so special about her? After all, she enjoyed it too. It was just that Jennifer, as always, was more in touch with herself.
There was something so nice about being told and made to please. To feel the power of Miss Ross was so thrilling. It was just that it hurt so much at the end. Regina wondered if that was right. Why does it have to hurt so much when you give in, she thought.
Regina lay like that for a long time when the door began to open. The crack of bright light widened across the floor. It was blinding after the total darkness of her room.
In the light of the doorway was silhouetted the tall form of Morgan. His height was emphasized by her position on the floor. He looked tall, imposing and not a little frightening.
As soon as she saw him she burst into tears. Crawling across the floor she grabbed onto his legs and clutched them. She tried to speak but her sobs made the words unformable.
"What's the matter, my dear?" Morgan said in a kindly voice.
For all she wanted to say something, she could not speak. She became terrified he would go away. She clutched even tighter to his legs.
"Now what on earth could be wrong?" Morgan said with a little impatience. He picked her up and carried her to one of the couches just outside the door. In his arms she looked at the haughty, slightly effeminate carriage of his head. She felt his strong arms and powerful chest supporting her effortlessly.
He sat down on the couch with her cradled in his arms. She continued to sob softly. He held her impassively. She wanted to tell him what had happened, but there were doubts in her mind whether or not to confide in him. While she was still considering whether or not to speak, Morgan solved her dilemma.
"I guess my young lady, you must be wondering why Miss Ross found it necessary to beat you?" he said. "Of course you're all black and blue and scratched. I think you deserve an explanation."
When Regina heard him talking like this she became so ashamed and embarrassed she could not look at Morgan.
"No," she stammered, "you don't owe me an explanation."
"I know how you must feel my dear," he said. "Of course we owe you something."
In truth all Regina's anger and indignation melted away as soon as Morgan had begun talking. Somehow she was embarrassed by talking about what had happened. Perhaps her own desire for the humiliation was showing through.
Rather abruptly Morgan's tone changed. He became more stern and harsh.
"It is sometimes necessary here," he said, "to show our students exactly who is boss. Of course you see we couldn't run any kind of school if everyone just did what they wanted. There has to be discipline."
"In your case it is especially important. You are so young and vulnerable. But at the same time you are irresponsible. You must understand that we run a tight ship here. No slackers and complaining allowed.
"You will have to learn to obey orders. It is really for your own good. We don't want anyone to take advantage of you."
His high, rather piping voice had grown more intense as he talked. By the time he finished, he was holding Regina very tightly and talking right into her upturned face.
"You are very pretty, but you are very bad. You will learn this is not a permissive home. We do not tolerate bad children. You will be broken of these bad habits.
She felt terror creep into her stomach as he talked. It was cold and he must have seen it in her eyes. A sneer gently formed on his lips. He looked down at her.
"See," he said, "you are afraid of what you know you deserve. Just like all the others. Why can't you be brave?"
At that Regina began to weep again. She did not feel strong. She wanted him to take care of her. But this cold looking beast would do nothing but stare down at her.
"But what about Jennifer?" she cried, not knowing what else to say.
"What about that little slut?" Morgan jammed back. "That curly-headed bitch crawled and cried well enough when I put the brush to her. Just because she is your friend don't think she's anything special. You'll see.
"I could feel her juice come through her panties. She was squealing and squalling but she loved it. The way she moved when I dug into her was the kicker. She squirmed but she dug it. They all do."
"But I don't understand. Jennifer didn't like what you did to her, " Regina lied to Morgan.
"Cut the shit," he said. "You dug it too when Miss Ross put it to you. That strap crashing down brought ecstasy to your face. I was watching through the two-way mirror. Those blows really turned you on."
Regina was wrestling with herself. She wanted so much to talk to Morgan. Yet she was embarrassed about her own weakness and afraid he would find her childish.
"You know I never made it with anyone in my life," she said. "I was always afraid. While everyone else was out having fun, I was home doing nothing. All the girls seemed to get to do all kinds of nice things, but not me.
"I was always so afraid. I never knew what to do or what to think. I only really came to beauty school because Jennifer wanted to come. I didn't want to stay home, that was horrible. So I tagged along with Jennifer. She always seems to know what to do.
"But now I don't know. The only way to find out what I want seems to be to try it. But I'm still so confused.
"You know, I've never even come. At least I don't think I have. I mean, I've felt nice when someone kissed me. Sometimes I rub myself, but isn't coming something special? Don't you know it when it happens?
Morgan had not said a word while Regina talked. He just held her in his arms on the couch. Then he slowly moved his hand down her beautiful back and undid the leather ties on the corset. He helped Regina slip out of it and also took off her tight shoes.
"Doesn't that feel better now?" he said.
"Yes," she sighed.
"The only way to feel better," he said, "is to listen to me. Just relax and listen to me."
Regina let her mind wander. She remembered her home in the suburbs. It was just a little house with five people. There was her mother and father and two sisters. Nothing really special about them at all.
Her father was tall and darkly handsome. Her mother was also tall and bigboned. Regina never really liked her very much. She was not very nice to any of the daughters. But Regina adored her father.
She remembered dreaming of running away with him and having him all to herself. She always thought he would take care of her. She remembered wondering why none of the other boys she knew treated her like her father.
No one else ever took care of me, she thought. They all made me feel foolish except my daddy. He was so nice it made her warm inside to think of him even now.
He wouldn't let someone like Miss Ross take advantage of her. But then she wouldn't be able to tell him about Miss Ross. She'd be much too ashamed to admit to him that she got involved in this kind of situation. Especially since she knew deep down she played some part in desiring it. If he ever knew about that she would just die.
Slowly she became aware Morgan was moving her around. He slipped on a pair of very brief tight rubber panties which clung to the curves of her hips and thighs. Then he turned her over on her back. She lay there across his knees looking up at the ceiling.
He put one arm across the front of her thighs and another across her neck. Then slowly he began pushing her down. He bent her back and forth. The further back she went the more her scratches and bruises pained her.
When she tried to resist he pressed his arm down hard on her neck. She gagged and could hardly breathe. She bucked even more and he snapped her back into a curving arch around his knees.
"That hurts," she managed from her throat.
"Oh no, that doesn't hurt half as much as this will," Morgan said.
So saying, he slipped out from his breast pocket a long black plastic styling comb. It looked like a black alligator snout. Tapering from a large end to a small, it nestled naturally in his practiced hand.
"Would you like a styling job my dear," he chuckled. "You know a lot of women pay for what you are getting for nothing. You should consider yourself very lucky."
With that he rammed the small fine toothed end of the comb up her still tender asshole. She screamed a bloody howl and tensed her whole body. But Morgan was almost oblivious to her thrashing.
His strength was so much greater than even her bronco bucking. He held her firmly around the neck and under the shoulder with his left hand. With his right he thrust the comb this way and that making Regina dance and jerk like some marionette.
Tears came to her eyes as the pain seared up in intensity. She could think of nothing but the jagged poker up her shit-hole.
"Oh I can tell you like that," Morgan laughed. He accented the word "that" by shoving the comb in all the way to the hilt. The wide end of the comb tore at the brown and red opening to her anus. Blood began to dribble down the cleft of her ass and down the creases of her buttocks.
With the last thrust she screamed as loud as she could. But as soon as the scream had left her lips, Morgan drew back his left hand and smashed his fist into the side of her jaw.
Her head rattled back and forth. The pain in her face matched that stabbing up her middle. The blow brought more tears to her eyes. The tears seemed to excite Morgan, for he redoubled his jabs. She could feel his stiffened member against the small of her back. His stomach heaved with his labored breathing.
"Since you like it so much up your ass," he leered "I bet you'll like it even more up your filthy snatch."
He gave the comb a savage twist inside her rectum and pulled it out sideways. In the same motion he brought the comb down across her erect clit.
This felt like something she had never imagined. A pain at the same time so rending and so pleasurable that she did not know whether to faint from agony or ecstasy. Before the sensation had barely subsided, Morgan took her clit in his now empty hand and pressed it between his long and finely manicured fingernails.
The pain and the pleasure mingled. Then Morgan pressed harder and harder. She felt as if her throbbing organ would be sliced in two. Yet she could not help but press against this tormentor.
She bulged her ample vulva up against his finger even as he crushed her tiny helpless pleasure font. The tearing pain only made her move back and up, down and forward even faster.
"Now maybe you'll believe me when I say you will learn to take orders," Morgan said. "No one fails to submit here. You can't escape me. You don't want to escape me. Look at your face. It's contorted with pleasure like you've never known in all your miserable life. Deep in your heart you thank me."
Her rubber bikini panties were smooth and warm with the blood from her asshole. He reached deep into her crack and smeared his hand full of the red slime. Then he smeared his hand from her clavicle to her belly button. He took special care to bloody her breasts.
When she moaned as he rubbed her bloody nipples, he slapped her three times flush on the cheeks. She shut up.
She was barely conscious now. Her whole body was a pain center. She felt ripped open up the middle and completely at his mercy. She did not fight this feeling. She rather enjoyed the feeling. It was only the pain she minded when it was happening. But she loved the feeling.
So she was not displeased when he rudely threw her torso off onto the floor and stood up holding her by the calves. His strong hands held her securely as he dragged her across the smooth, cold floor.
Her hands and arms lolled over her head as he dragged her. Back through the door into the room in which Miss Ross had thrashed her.
He paused to close and lock the door behind them. Then he dragged her over the same barber chair and threw her into it.
Her head lay back against the chair as Morgan bound her wrists and ankles with electrical cord. He tied her wrists together with the cord in back of the chair. He tied her feet to the footrest of the chair.
She was only semi-conscious while this was going on but she did not resist at all. She wondered what he was going to do to her. But the wonder was with a degree of detached excitement and titillation.
"Now you just sit there and be a good girl," Morgan said. "You better not get any ideas about trying to get away or you might get hurt."
Regina's head was swimming. Red came in front of her eyes. Everything came to her in a fog of dizziness. There was numbing pain in her extremities. The cords bound tightly around her wrists and ankles.
Morgan approached her with a serious look on his face.
"I'm going to give you a little something which will make you behave," he said. "The only way you will learn is by experience.
From out of a leather pouch he took a handful of large hair clips. He gently pinched the flesh above Regina's right breast and clipped the powerful clip to the fold. He smiled to see the look of discomfort cross her face. She looked down at the clip, but said nothing.
One by one he attached the clips all over the front of her chest. He took special delight in attaching a cluster to her nipple. He attached one to the front of each nipple so she looked like a cow at milking time.
Alongside each clipped nipple he pinched the convoluted brown tissue to make a mooring for two or three other clips. The dimpled flesh of her ample and exciting breasts was strained and bruised by the clips.
Then all up and down the indentation over her ribs, he found flesh to attach the clips. As he put more and more there was less and less play in the supple surface of her body. She felt like a drumhead pulled tighter and tighter.
Morgan began pinching the folds of her belly and the flesh over her hips. He clipped each fold after gouging her. All the while he cursed her under his breath.
"Fucking cunt," he said, "give me some of that. You don't think I mean business. But you'll feel these clips in a little while.
He was right. The clips which did little more than stick when he first put them on began to throb. The longer they stayed on the more they hurt. The ones around her taut rosy nipples were the most painful of all.
Regina's belly heaved as she twisted against the bonds. The more she heaved the more he tortured her lovely satin flesh.
Between his fingers he pinched savagely the pocket of lovely fat below her bellybutton. She felt the cream come between her thighs. It was a feeling she had never known before. She writhed harder with the feeling.
Morgan saw the signs. He saw the deep flushed face, the short panting breath and the contorted face.
"So you don't like to be tortured do you?" he said mockingly. "That's what they all say. But when push comes to shove, they cream in their pants.
Regina could barely hear him. She was lost in a sea of pain and pleasure. She felt the dozens of little throbs of pain. She felt the brutal hands pulling her flesh. She felt the explosions through her middle.
"Don't stop," she moaned, "please, don't ever stop." Morgan worked out with his long fingers and the clip on her wildly moving form. He tore and clawed among the hair clips. Then he drew his hand back and slapped her viciously across the face and tits.
Her thighs were quivering and she was straining against the cords. Morgan seemed lost in a frenzy of passion. His cool demeanor was gone completely. He moved frantically beating and pummeling.
He reviled her as a slut and trampy cunt. All this was music to Regina. She was flying over a golden sea of pleasure. He could do anything to her and she would not care.
I'm lost, she thought. I'm lost and I don't care.
Morgan grasped the rubber panties and gave them a powerful tug. Away from her full belly and then back again with a snap they went. She moaned as the welt from the blow began already to rise.
Morgan stood massaging his cock under his uniform. He stood looking scornfully at her. Suddenly he brought up phlegm from deep in his throat and spat in on her. Again and again he spit. It went in her hair and face. It landed on her boobs and rolled down her awe-inspiring cleavage. She did not mind at all. The spit-paths down her body made her tingle.
Morgan came up behind the chair and looked down into her face.
"Tell me Miss Spit-face, that you don't like it," he said. "I dare you to tell me you don't like it."
Regina sat there speechless. Her whole body was throbbing, and her mind buzzed with sensation. She did like it. She loved it. The warm exploding feeling was the only thing that mattered.
He made her feel whole. His curses and beating only made her feel more intensely. There was nothing for her to do but surrender to the wonderful feeling. Fuck all this shit about right and wrong, she thought.
No one had ever made her feel like that. All those pimply kids with their pawing hands never made her go all weak and jelly inside.
Morgan looked as if he were reading her mind. He grabbed her roughly under the chin and held her head back. She did not resist one bit.
"You've learned and now I think you'll do just as you're told," he said. "One other thing. If I find you have revealed any of what went on today you will find yourself a most sorry young lady. I promise I will beat you within one inch of your pretty little life. Perhaps past it. Do you understand?"
Regina understood. But right then, the prospect of being beaten held only wild expectation for her. She knew now that all her life had been leading up to this. All the wasted years of getting nothing from anyone. All that was over now.
Now she knew that to please was her aim. To please Morgan and Susan was her goal. It did not matter what she had to do to do it. They were so strong they always gave her the pleasure of their attention. She did not even have to ask them to get what she wanted. It was all so perfect.
Just as she was musing so, Morgan began ripping the clips from her body. Each one had little teeth on it and tore tiny pieces of her pink flesh out. One by one in single ecstatic tears he removed them from her body.
What else could he do now, she thought foggily. What was left she had not experienced in this fiery baptism in passion? She was sure Morgan and Miss Ross would take care of her pleasure.
With each rip of a hair clip she became fainter. Morgan tightened his grip on her jaw and pulled it up and back. She began to grow warm again inside. The room swam before her. She could feel Morgan panting in her ear and the juice flowing down her pleasure hole.
Just as she passed out he tore the bunches of clips from each nipple. The burst of pain shot deep into her genitals and bounced back to her throat to be expressed as a groan.
"Rip it off," she cried. "More, hurt me more."
CHAPTER THREE
"I just can't believe anything like that is going on here," said Miss Ross. I mean we run a respectable school and we don't allow that kind of carrying on."
"Well, whatever you say, Miss Ross," Jennifer said. "He still did that to me. Look at my back and ass. They are all bruised and scraped. What do you expect me to do? I can't stand this."
Jennifer's tears looked real enough. Probably she did not even know herself how genuine they were. Only the pain was so great when she got up this morning. She bled all over the towels and the toilet seat.
Regina not coming home that night also frightened her. They had not been apart this long for years. They were such good friends that she was accustomed to knowing where Regina was all the time.
Perhaps her tears at the punishment she received was really concern for the sake of her friend who she considered pretty helpless and naive.
The only way to get to the bottom of this was to press Miss Ross. But deep in her heart, Jennifer knew she was lying to her and to herself. For Morgan's beating had stirred something down inside her which she thought had been there for a long time.
Why else had those other lays she had had for such a long time never really turned her on? All that fucking and sucking and blowing was really pretty tame for her and she hated it.
"No, I can't expect you to stand this," Miss Ross broke in on her reverie. "I like you very much and I want to help you. So please, you must believe me that there is nothing wrong."
"If there is nothing wrong," retorted Jennifer, "where is Regina? She didn't come home last night. I was so worried I didn't know what to do. I didn't hardly sleep."
At the last sentence, Jennifer's voice rose to a shout and she began to dribble tears down her rosy cheeks.
Miss Ross came over to Jennifer and put her hand around her shoulder.
"If it would make you feel any better, you can call me Susan," she said. "Maybe we can talk about all this."
At this, Miss Ross gently-but very firmly-began leading Jennifer over to the couch on the side of the room. At first, Jennifer resisted, but she felt something give way inside her and walked willingly over to the couch.
She threw herself down on the couch and began to sob softly again.
"Now listen," Miss Ross said a little coldly, "we can't have all this crying and nonsense. Now stop it!"
Jennifer looked up startled. For a long moment she just stared at her.
"You're just like all the rest," she said, with a dead emotionless voice. "You don't really give a shit about me."
Miss Ross was standing over Jennifer's long, lank form-stretched out on the couch. No emotion showed on her commanding face. Her deep eyes flashed.
With one quick movement, she lifted her white rubber-soled shoe and crushed it into Jennifer's face. Smudge and dog shit spread over the young girl's pink face.
"I guess you haven't learned your lesson yet," Miss Ross said. "Well, you will and very soon. By the time we get through with you, you will know how to obey. We'll have you shitting in your panties little girlie!"
Jennifer felt the same racing feeling in her body. Her tits tingled. Down way low in her gut, she felt the fluttery excitement of passion. She moved her thighs lasciviously on the velvet couch.
"Don't hurt me," she said to Miss Ross.
"I'll do just what I like!" screamed the dark-haired beauty. Her verbal explosion triggered in the formidable figure as a burst of rage.
She began pounding Jennifer about the head and body. Again and again, she brought her fists and opened hand onto her tender, sore skin.
Miss Ross' hair flew in a whirl like a blizzard of blackness. Her short dress strained around the top of her thick inviting thighs. The veins stood out across her tawny forehead.
When she lifted her arms to strike Jennifer again, the dark stains under her arms showed the tension she was under. Sweat dripped from her brow onto Jennifer's thin, tight cashmere sweater.
Jennifer was moaning softly. Her hands were raised in futile gestures of self-protection. All the more futile in the face of Miss Ross' power because she wanted not protection, but surrender. She wanted sweet surrender to this pain.
The beating increased in tempo and ferocity, and then abruptly stopped. Reflexively, Jennifer rolled halfway over on her side and curled up like a little child.
"Yes, sweet little child," Miss Ross cooed, "curl up. But don't go to sleep my dear. You haven't had your punishment yet. You can't go to sleep without your punishment."
The brief interlude came to an end, an instant before the leather strap hit Jennifer flat and hard across the back. She could hear it whirring through the air just before it struck her.
The sound was like the hissing of a lizard begging and calling for her. She heard it as if she were tied to stakes and this monster were coming to devour her.
"You can't escape," Miss Ross howled as the leather slapped home. "Why don't you admit my power. You are under my control. Don't resist it."
The leather strap snapped through the furry softness of her sweater. An instant later it repeated. This time the pain was sharper and more intense. Jennifer felt it cutting through the thin material of her summer dress.
Over and over on her buttocks she felt the tearing. Roughly, Miss Ross pulled up the skirt, revealing the scarred thighs and ass of a victim of torture.
"What have we here?" Miss Ross asked. "You can't pretend to me that you don't like to be hit with a backside like that. It's so round and full. It's so scarred and beaten. You only get what you really want. You really want it."
Jennifer kept hearing those last words echoing in her head. You really want it, you really want it, you really want it, her thoughts repeated.
What was the use of fighting it, she thought. The truth had the power to overcome all her modesty and shame. After all these years she knew that -to be beaten was the only way to get her pleasure.
Back and forth under the ever-moving strap Jennifer writhed. Each burst of pain was an ecstatic moment. All her senses were focused on the next blow.
Moaning lower and lower, she encouraged in her mind all the pain and humiliation. Never, never stop, she thought. All I want is to get it.
As if in answer to her unspoken prayers, Susan beat harder and harder. With an animal-like swipe she tore the flimsy panties from the luscious backside of the girl.
Jennifer's quim reverberated from the act. It sent quivers up into the nether reaches of her inner world. In that world she lived her secret life of bondage and torture. Now, beyond her wildest dreams, the world inside was becoming the real one.
"Lift your ass," Miss Ross commanded. In instant obedience, Jennifer complied. Her ass rose high into the air. She was arched expectantly on the soft yellow couch. She did not have long to wait.
Positioning herself at the head of the couch, Miss Ross grabbed tightly onto what was left of Jennifer's skirt. With a perfect skillful motion she brought the strap rocket-like down over the crack in Jennifer's ass, and snapping down onto her upturned pussy.
The thrill was unbearable. All Jennifer could think of was more.
"More, again," she moaned. "Do it to me again. Oh, I love it! Don't stop now!"
Miss Ross said nothing but held on tighter. She could feel the pressure and straining against her giving flesh. Like a rippled lake, she moved under the bonds of Miss Ross.
"You're nothing, you little trash," Miss Ross snarled. "I'll tell you when you get more, you shit. I don't want to hear one peep out of you."
The terror was genuine. She feared Miss Ross more than any person she had ever met. She had never known a woman so strong and commanding. She loved it.
Yet it was not the terror which prevented her from speaking. For the terror pleased her more than it frightened her. The terror became passion. The passion became lust for more. To not be terrified was to lose the passion. She was afraid of nothing more than losing the passion which she had so recently found.
Her clit, her crack, her asshole and her cunt all were open to the blows of the beautiful beast of a woman. Each one in its turn received the brutal attention it so richly deserved.
With her sharply manicured nails, Miss Ross dug into the soft and succulent asshole of her new prot�g�. Thus securing a hold, she began digging around. At the same time she increased her thrashing of Jennifer's soft thighs.
Those thighs moved as if they were crying to be whipped. Each blow was received with a little quiver of desire. That is exactly what Jennifer felt deep in her chest and gut. A desire so strong, consciousness of anything outside of the cycle of beating and submission ceased to exist.
Everything faded from her mind except the knowledge of now. It was a dream filled with demons and deliverers. Nothing was asked that couldn't be done. Nothing was taken that could not be given.
Jennifer was brought back from her fantasy to her living fantasy. Miss Ross was far up her rectum poking and digging.
The feeling was as if someone were trying to burst all the way through her. The pressure became more intense. Then the intense pressure became pain.
Involuntarily she cried out when Miss Ross drove deeper. The cry seemed to enrage Miss Ross who showed the rage through the so well-placed finger.
With her whole body behind it, the shapely attendant thrust her finger further into Jennifer than Jennifer thought anyone could ever go. She felt as if the woman's whole arm thrust up her smelly orifice.
She felt as if her spleen would burst. But Miss Ross had her pinned and she could not move. In this agony of immobility she felt the feeling rising of passionate surrender. She could not help but move about. In so moving, she knew she would provoke the wrath of Miss Ross. But that wrath was the wine of existence now. The only thing that mattered was the pain and pressure.
This went on for an agonized eternity. Longer than any pain Jennifer had ever had this one continued. In and in Miss Ross dug like a long-armed mole digging for treasure. The treasure was the pain of a new subject.
Slowly Miss Ross withdrew the finger. Jennifer collapsed on the couch covered with sweat. But she did not have long to rest.
"Turn over, you smelly bitch," Miss Ross said. "I want you to try something."
Slowly Jennifer turned over. Her bouncy blonde curls were flattened against her sweaty head. Her rosy and youthful complexion was flushed and wiped out with the ordeal.
"Open up," she said.
Jennifer did not comprehend the command immediately.
"Open your mouth you little cunt-licker," she said.
Jennifer obeyed but slowly. It was too slow for Miss Ross. Savagely she grabbed Jennifer's cheek and pulled her mouth open. Then she thrust the asshole-smeared finger all the way into Jennifer's mouth.
"Lick it clean," she said. "I want it all clean."
Jennifer tasted her own shit on the finger. In all the creases around the knuckles she could taste and smell the excrement. She began to gag from the thought but Miss Ross only clamped her jaw harder and thrust the finger further into her mouth.
Her mouth, which was hot and exciting on Miss Ross' finger felt stuffed to overflowing. All she could think about was the finger. If she thought too much about it, she began to gag. She felt her gorge rise. The acrid vomit taste mixed with the funky shit smell.
The more Miss Ross pushed, the more Jennifer fought her.
"Suck it off!" Susan screamed. "Suck it, suck it!" To emphasize, she grabbed the scoured ass of the young girl and grabbed a large hunk of meaty flesh. She dug her nailed fingers into it and twisted. Under this new and excrutiating pain Jennifer responded.
She rolled her hips to the pressure of this coercion and thrust her breasts up as if they too, were begging for the same treatment.
"Lick it, baby," Miss Ross cried.
Jennifer began to lick. At first she licked tentatively, tasting the large balls of shit stuck around the nail. The more she licked, the more she wanted. She began to lose her inhibition and started to enjoy the act.
"Faster and harder," demanded Miss Ross. "That's not good enough."
Jennifer begged to comply. She sucked and chewed away like a maniac. The offal-covered finger was being licked like a newborn calf. The more she licked, the harder Miss Ross pressed it into her mouth. Harder and harder she pressed. Jennifer thought she could press no harder.
But she had never known the likes of Miss Ross.
When in the grip of the passion she was insatiable. Nothing could satisfy her but the pain she saw on her victim's face.
So Jennifer's pleasure in submitting only enraged Miss Ross, for it was not pleasure which she sought to inflict. Only the unending pain was her goal.
Her point of satiation was approaching. Jennifer could hardly breathe. She could barely remember what it felt like to not have this choking probe down her throat. Her whole body seemed wrapped around this thin finger in spasms of clutching need.
Jennifer did not know herself. It was a need to have it out or a desire for more entry. A beast was inside her. The beast was her own desire. She could not control it. She had no desire to control it. She loved the beast. Sometimes she became the beast.
"Suck, suck, suck!" Miss Ross intoned. Over and over again she rhythmically ground her digit into Jennifer's awaiting mouth.
At last that is what Jennifer did. No longer did she fight the finger. It became part of her.
She desired nothing but to please it. She enveloped it and sucked. No matter how hard her tormentor thrust, she gave and gave.
It was perfection itself. Her pain was her pleasure and her torturer sought only to give her pain. Harder and harder down the gagging throat the finger went.
Suddenly Miss Ross withdrew her now-glistening finger. Jennifer breathed deeply and opened her mouth in pleasure.
"Now you see," said Miss Ross, "that your only path is to tread my way."
She lay on the couch for a while. Miss Ross disappeared. Jennifer did not move. Her mind wandered back aimlessly.
She remembered the feeling of her cat clawing her. She loved to hold him too tightly and make him claw her bare breasts to escape.
That was the pleasure she remembered from home. All the other things were just bad memories. They were just phantoms wandering ineffectually through her life. Nothing had she any respect for.
Her parents did not give a shit about her. They were too busy making money to ever care about how she was doing.
She grew up fast taking what she could from those in her life. But all those stupid shits did not give very much to her. They only cared about themselves, she thought.
She hated her parents both and would have killed them if she had had less sense or more opportunity. Instead, she let the boys take her out to the lake in their imagine cars and feel up her big tits.
She had very large tits, especially for a young girl. She was the light of the social whirl in her school. She was sought after by all.
She loved the attention and had nothing but contempt for all the boys who dated her. She saw all the good things which the fast girls got. But she did not think of herself as fast. She just did what she wanted.
What she wanted was to start going down at fourteen. The place she loved to fuck in the most was the back of a car. Somehow, being all squashed up and bent about made the screw better. In fact, the only time she ever really got off was the time just before she left home when her boyfriend and two of his friends took a drive out to a deserted spot.
The trip was supposed to be for a picnic but on the way, both her boyfriend's pals were feeling her up. By the time they got way out in the woods, they had her pinned in the backseat.
That was the best ball of her life. She was scared and they pushed her around to get her to shut up. One of them held her while the other two hit her. She found she liked that more than anything that had ever been done to her.
Suddenly she snapped back to the present. "Get up," Miss Ross commanded. Jennifer complied.
"Follow me and don't make a sound if you know what's good for you."
Jennifer walked behind Susan through the door into the back room with the barber's chair in it.
"Sit down in the chair right now," Miss Ross said.
Jennifer sat down and as soon as she had done so, Miss Ross whipped out two thick leather belts and strapped her arms to the armrests of the chair.
She bound them very tight. They were so tight, Jennifer could feel the blood pounding in her wrists.
Just then, there was a ringing of the front door bell. Miss Ross rushed out of the room, making sure to lock it behind her. After what seemed like an eternity, she returned, carrying what looked like a rubber wet suit.
Miss Ross loosened the straps on her arms and roughly removed the sweater.
"Put this on," she said.
Jennifer complied.
When Jennifer was seated again, Miss Ross re-tightened the straps. They were excruciatingly binding. Then with a furious motion, she tore the panties and tattered skirt from the curvaceous form of the trapped girl.
When Miss Ross was done, Jennifer sat strapped in the chair, wearing nothing but an extremely tight-fitting rubber halter top.
It reached from her neck to just below her ribs. Her firm and overwhelming breasts made the garment bulge out dramatically. Cut out in front were two holes where her pert and pulsating nipples poked out in Miss Ross' face. But for that, she was naked to the world.
Miss Ross approached her with half-smiling parted lips. Her breathing was deep and labored. She reached up and pulled the hair dryer down over Jennifer's head. With a flick of her hand, she turned it on to "high."
Instantly, a blast of very hot air burned around Jennifer's face and eyes. She had never felt air this hot so directly on her skin. She squirmed to escape the burning blasts.
From out of the bottom of the dryer she could see the graceful form of Miss Ross. Her hips moved back and forth under her dress as she walked. When she turned around she was carrying in her hand a hair curling iron. When she approached, Jennifer could already feel its heat.
"Now, let's see how you respond down there in your beautiful snatch my dear," Miss Ross said, slowly.
With that, she made a pass with the red-hot iron over the smooth hair of Jennifer's belly and down toward her hairy pussy.
Involuntarily, Jennifer's belly sucked inward to avoid the hot iron. But her throbbing cunt could almost feel the heat of the iron. It longed for it.
Her thighs brushed together and spread slightly, revealing the wet, sticky whiteness forming on the lips of her cunt.
"So you're not afraid, my dear?" Miss Ross said.
Jennifer thrilled at the threat of pain and moved her body slightly in the chair. Her toes tingled as Miss Ross brushed it gingerly through her pubic hair.
Jennifer had an unusually thick bush for a blonde girl. The iron burned the hair, producing a sickening smell. Down deeper in the sporran Miss Ross probed. The lips of Jennifer's cunt could feel the heat.
Suddenly, with one quick jerk, Miss Ross brought the tip of the hot comb onto her erect little pulsating organ. Her whole body thrilled around the pain. She moved her thighs to clutch the sensation.
At that moment, from the bottom of her throat, Miss Ross uttered a guttural cry and plunged the comb deep into Jennifer's smoking honey hole. Jennifer screamed with agonized pleasure and passed dead out.
CHAPTER FOUR
When the doorbell rang Miss Ross remembered in a flash the appointment she had made the previous day. Over the phone the gruff rather harsh voice had sounded a little uncomfortable-
"Uh, I'd like to make an appointment," he said in a nervous monotone.
"Sir, we don't usually make appointments for men here," she said. "Perhaps I can recommend a good men's hair stylist to you."
"Well it's not really for me anyway," he said. "It's for my son. Besides I heard from a friend that you do a very nice job in that kind of thing he's looking for. It's very important to me that it be done right."
"Of course, I understand," she said. "What exactly did you have in mind?" she asked, knowing pretty well already what he had in mind.
"Well, his hair is getting pretty long," the voice said, "and it's about time he had it cut. I thought since he looks like a girl with it anyway I might as well take him to a ladies' hair cutting place."
"What kind of style does he want it done in?" Miss Ross asked.
"He wants to have it cut a lot," the man said. "Something right down close to the head would be good."
"I think we can arrange something to suit everyone concerned. There won't be any problem," she said convincingly-
Now when the doorbell rang, all this came rushing back to her. She remembered how she smiled to herself as she hung up the receiver and thought, they all think they are the first one who's ever done it.
The first time a father had brought his teenaged son into the shop to have his hair "cut" she was a little taken aback. That is not to say that she was displeased. She thoroughly enjoyed the procedure once she began.
Lately, as more and more sons grew their hair longer and longer and as the reputation of the "Lookswell" Beauty School spread, there were more and more such calls.
The last one had been about a month ago from a lisping rather cultured gentleman who was probably a professional man.
His son was a carbon copy of himself. Both were tall and stooped. Both wore thick glasses. The young man had long streaming hair whereas his father was precisely and rather severely groomed.
The young man had been genuinely shocked when he realized what was going on. This realization did not happen until the leather bonds had strapped him to the chair and he was helpless.
He had thought his father was thoughtfully arranging a hair styling appointment. As the shears began to chop off huge pieces of hair his consternation turned to terror. He bucked and squirmed in the chair. But to no avail. The horror on his face when he realized his father was going all the way was a sight to behold.
In anticipation of this Miss Ross licked her delicious lips.
When she opened the door she saw standing there a large man in a T-shirt with a crooked nose. He had shortcropped gray hair and a thick muscular physique. The first thing she noticed about his physique was his arms. Those were short and very muscular.
Standing next to him was a young man in a soft sweater and bell bottom blue jeans. His long brown hair fell gently to his shoulders.
The old man with beetling black brows said, "We have an appointment to see Miss Ross."
"Well, I'm Miss Ross," she responded. "Won't you come right in? I can take care of you right now."
They walked back through the shop to a back private room.
"Just go right in and sit down young man," she said to the youth.
She guessed he was about sixteen years old. He looked apprehensively around at the walls, the hair dryers and his father. His father did not stop scowling and avoided looking at his son.
"What kind of hair style did you have in mind son?" the father asked.
"I don't really know," he said. "I don't want it too much shorter. You know I only came here because you said you couldn't stand it the way it was."
Turning to Miss Ross the father said, "What kind of style do you recommend?"
"I think I have just the thing," she said. "But just relax, my boy; it may take some time."
So saying, she turned and opened a closet behind the boy's back. The father's eyes widened perceptibly when he saw her take the electrical cords out of the closet.
As if reading each other's minds, the father moved behind the son's chair. Quickly he grabbed both his son's arms and pinned them to the chair.
Expertly Miss Ross bound his wrists tightly to the arms of the chair. With the large man holding his son she moved downward and bound the boy's legs together and tied them to the bottom of the chair.
He sat there shocked and immobilized. He was completely bound before he could recover enough to even speak.
Finally he sputtered, "What are you doing?"
"You'll see in a minute," the father muttered. "You and your faggy friends always hanging around. Ever since your mother died you look like a fucking hippie faggot. If she were alive she'd be ashamed of you and me too.
When Miss Ross clicked on the electric razor he grew more frantic in his pleading.
"Please, Dad, don't," he begged. "Please don't."
Tears began to appear in his eyes and rolled down his pink cheeks. But his father just scowled and turned to Miss Ross.
"Go ahead Miss," he said.
The son squirmed his head away from Miss Ross. But she grabbed his long hair by the roots and gave it a tremendously painful yank.
"Listen sonny," she said. "You better sit there like a good little boy or you're going to get hurt. You wouldn't want to get hurt now would you?"
A look of resignation appeared on the young man's face. He looked on the verge of tears.
Suddenly he turned and spat in Miss Ross's face. She instantly retorted with a savage slap full in the front of his face.
"Okay, wise guy," she said, panting with anger. "You want to play rough, we'll play rough."
Turning to the father she said, "Get a bucket full of hot water from the sink over there and dump it on his head. Maybe that will cool him off."
The father did as he was told. When the boy's head was soaked Miss Ross whipped out a straight razor from the pocket in the back of the chair.
"You better not try that shit again kid," she said, "unless you want to lose an eye."
The boy looked like a drowned rat, sitting submissively in the chair. His father stood in front of him with arms akimbo. He shied away when Miss Ross made her first chop with the razor. But she grabbed more tightly on to the roots of his hair and subdued him easily.
In a few minutes his head was a mass of bloody chopped hair. Strands lay on the floor and on his sweater. There was hair all over the floor. Miss Ross was covered with the stuff.
There were patches of hah still stuck to his head.
"Go get some more water and we'll take it all off," Miss Ross said to the older man.
He hesitated a moment.
She turned like a little spitfire and said, "Do as I tell you! More hot water!"
The father complied silently and filled the basin to overflowing with scalding hot water from the sink. He carried it carefully over to the two by the chair.
"Now throw it on him," she said.
The father doused his son's head with the burning water and he screamed. The cuts and nicks showed clearly now. He began to cry.
"Let's make this a clean job," Miss Ross said. She stropped the razor a few times on the leather strap hanging from the side of the chair. Then she deliberately began slicing the rest of the hair from the young man's head.
He seemed groggy from the shock and did not move much. However, when she nicked him badly once he jumped. She reviled him as a coward and carved a delicate line of pain from the flat top of his skull all the way down to his collar line.
The father who had been standing very impassively throughout the whole shearing began to shift about uneasily. He touched his mouth and nose. He scratched his head.
"You don't have to carve him up like that, do you?" he said.
Miss Ross turned once again and glared at him.
"What's the matter, big boy," she said, "you got no guts for this kind of thing? It was your idea, you know."
"I just thought," the big man said timidly, "that you didn't have to cut him up like that."
"Well you keep your thoughts to yourself unless you want more of the same."
For an instant the man just stood there. He was so unused to a woman talking to him that way. All the little pussies he had ever known would never talk like that.
"You piece of trampy shit," he said. "You can't talk to me like that." He started toward her across the hair-strewn floor.
When he was halfway towards her she turned and snapped, "Get some more hot water, quick."
As if a robot, he obeyed. No one had ever made him obey anything like that. He did what he pleased with whomever he pleased. But now this little cunt was ordering him around.
He brought the water over to Miss Ross. She sneered at him and took it from him. She dumped it over the boy's head. That head was completely bald.
For an instant after the water splashed it was white and shiny. Then slowly dots and slashes of red appeared like mushrooms growing in the forest after a heavy rain. Slowly the dots grew to blotches and the slashes to streams and rivers.
Startled out of his trance by the sight of the bloody head of his son the father laid a hand on Miss Ross's graceful arm.
"What did you do?" he cried.
"I told you, you better shut up," she spat at him. With those words she slashed his cheek with the razor from cheekbone to chin.
He reacted instantly by grabbing her. She fought back with a swift chop to the balls. He doubled over and fell to the floor.
She leaped on him and began belting him again and again in the testicles. He was covered with his son's bloody hair and moaning in shame and agony.
This piece of shitty-ass broad is beating the shit out of me, he thought. The shame was greater than the physical pain. He curled and tried to protect himself. He found his mouth full of hair.
"You like hair so much," Miss Ross shouted. "Why don't you try some of this?" With that she pressed the icy sharp edge of the razor against his throat and shoved some hair into his mouth.
He resisted violently. But her powerful thighs were astride him and the razor was pressed deep into his Adam's apple.
"One move buddy and you'll spray all over this nice clean floor," Miss Ross said. "Be a good boy and open up."
He gagged once more and then relented. He felt the mixture of long and short hairs cram into his mouth. Her long and agile fingers pushed them further and further down his throat. The more he gagged the more she pushed.
Suddenly his pecker began to rise. It bulged out in his heavy blue work pants. He pressed his hips up against the straddled form of Miss Ross. Her response was a quick and powerful knee in the scrotum.
The pain shot in knots up through his guts and spun in his head. He had never felt that pain so intensely before. Still his pecker refused to he down. It began to rise once more.
Miss Ross gave him a shot in his muscular abdomen which knocked the wind out of him. Then she quickly stood up and gave his spread-eagled form a swift kick in the crotch.
He doubled and bent forward, then arched back clutching his abused cock and balls. He groaned and saliva came dribbling from both sides of his mouth.
Miss Ross went quickly to the sink and filled the basin with hot scalding water. She turned and dumped it over his head. In a flash she was on him.
With one knee in his neck and the other straddling his head, she pinned him down very effectively. She roughly rubbed his wet burr-like head and began cursing him vilely.
"You big bull shit head," she howled. "You want some razor action? You think maybe you'd like that? You slimy cunt-lapping moron, there's only one way to find out."
She slowly began peeling the hair back off his head. He winced as the razor dug deep in his scalp. His muscles bulged in an effort to throw her off, but he was powerless in the face of her superhuman strength. Like a rutting elephant crashing through a cane-break, she was irresistible.
He could barely breathe for her forearm in his throat, and the hair down his windpipe. He felt himself gagging. All at once things became dizzy and blurred.
His tough old head became slowly visible where she scraped down to the scalp. With half-parted wetted lips Miss Ross worked away. He could almost feel the pants from her animal mouth.
She looked with concentrated wild-eyed gaze at her work. Down close to the bone she dug. She took skin as well as hair.
"You'll be clean, old man," she sneered; "so clean your friends will think you took a bath in acid."
All the while his son was sitting in the chair whimpering. The ordeal of being brutally shaved followed by the attack on his father seemed to crack his fragile constitution.
"No, no, no, no," he cried over and over again. His tears were almost dry now. They had all been cried out and there was nothing left but madness. It all seemed too much of a dream now to cry or protest.
There was barely any sound now in the room except the son's quiet whimpering and the scraping of the razor on the older man's wet head.
"Your friends won't even recognize you," Miss Ross mocked.
His head was now almost bald and she held it in her hand like some grotesque bowling ball. Slowly and carefully she finished the job.
When the last piece of turf was removed she spat a large glob of saliva in her hand and rubbed his bald head with it.
She rose and went to the sink for the basin. On the floor the old man groaned and rolled his head from side to side. She turned from her task of filling the basin and stepped smartly over to the prostrate figure. She drew back her large leg and gave him a brutal shot in the side of the head.
Then she went back to the sink and filled the basin with scalding water. She went back to the man and poured the scalding liquid on his head. He screamed a low-keyed howl. She silenced that with the sole of her shoe in his face.
"You learned, didn't you?" she said. "They all do. I'm not done with you though. This isn't half of what you deserve or half of what you're going to get. You'll beg me for mercy before I'm done.
So saying, Miss Ross bent down with the razor and slashed his T-shirt completely open down the front. Then kneeling between his legs she viciously slashed the crotch of his pants from belt to asshole.
"Don't move, big boy, or you might lose your big peter. It looks big enough from here. Let's see how big it really is."
She reached into the slashed open pants and grabbed his balls and cock. Yanking them savagely from their accustomed home, she weighed them in her sensitive fingers.
"Not bad, not bad at all," she said.
She pressed the razor hard against his left testicle and said to the semi-conscious man, "If you want to have this longer than two seconds you better open your belt."
The cold feel of the steel razor on his ball sent a shiver through his loins. His feeling was a mingling of cold sickness and trembling excitement. He felt his member stiffen. She pressed very hard against his ball.
"You think I'm kidding, don't you?" she said. "Well I'm not, hot stuff. Take a feel of this."
She grabbed the ball in one hand and pressed the razor blade down the middle as if it were an orange to be cut in half.
His whole gut recoiled as if to draw his exposed sac back into him. Yet there was a passionate feeling of expectancy at her hands in so vital a spot. He melted inside to be under her power.
Methodically he took off his belt and handed it to her. She took it and threw it aside. Then she unbuttoned the work pants and dug her nails into the hairy flesh below his belly button.
"Can you take it tough guy?" she said. "I don't think you can!"
He groaned with the pain of her grip. She dug in with her nails and pulled the hair on his stomach with the fingers of her other hand.
'Take off that T-shirt and those pants," she commanded. "Stand up!"
He trance-like obeyed her commands. Her voice thrilled him like no other woman he had ever been with. He wanted her to punish him and do things to him.
"Faster," she bellowed. "Take it off faster, if you don't want to be beaten. I know how to handle a man like you. You think you're tough. But you're not so tough. I've met your kind before. I've tamed your kind before, too.
He quickly took off the rest of his clothes and lay them beside him. Expectantly he sat on the floor waiting for her command. What is she going to do with me, he thought to himself.
"Lie down flat and don't move a muscle," she said. "If I see even one twitch you'll get the pain you deserve. Close your eyes."
He closed his eyes and Susan took off her skimpy uniform and the boots, bra and panties she was wearing besides.
Coming over to the form with tightly closed eyes on the floor, she said, "Can you smell me?"
"No, I can't," he said.
She squatted lower down with her feet on either side of his head.
"Can you smell me now, hot rocks?" she asked.
He made no reply. He merely strained his nose upward without taking his head off the floor.
She squatted lower and lower until her dripping cunt was only a foot away from his mouth.
"Open your mouth," she ordered. He obeyed.
Squatting slightly lower and spreading the odorous lips of her love hole, she sent a steaming stream of urine into his open mouth.
He gagged and began lapping it up with his tongue. His long tongue roved all over his lips and cheeks, trying not to lose a precious drop.
Miss Ross turned quickly and picked up the fallen razor. With an animal bark she fell upon her victim and began dry-shaving the hah from his body.
She started with his massive hairy chest. From years of heavy labor it was muscled and firm. Down into the cleavage between the pectoral muscles she went. The black curls fell victim to her scraping. Hard she pressed.
He writhed in the agony of the peeling and raw skin. But yet in his agony he longed for more. He was careful not to shy away from the lovely torment. In fact he pressed his powerful body toward it.
Miss Ross noticed this pleasure with displeasure. She watched his twisting and the agonized expression of lust she knew so well.
Had not she dealt with others like this, she thought. Being perfectly still for a moment, she watched her guest, eyes still closed, mutely begging for more.
Saying nothing, she pulled her luscious heavy boobs off his chest and raised herself to a kneeling position. In one broad and powerful sweep with the razor she cut an eighth inch deep gash from his pubic hair to his chest.
He screamed in pain and pressed the palms of his hands flat on the floor.
"That's what you'll get if you don't behave," she said.
Down from his chest she progressed with skill and pain. His nipples were scoured and scored. She shaved his armpits raw.
He sobbed and howled but inside his blood was boiling. Like a carrot being peeled, he felt himself at the mercy of her knife.
His barrel-like stomach presented no challenge for her flashing blade. The black sexy fur was removed with deep painful scrapes.
Next she tackled his legs. His calves were little stimulation for both of them compared with his thighs.
Those pillars of flesh were girdled round with thick mats of hair. She pressed his knees down and lay across his hips. The razor scraping across the flat of his thighs sent him into ecstasy.
Then she spread-eagled him and began on the inside of his massive legs. He was burning and wanted only to be taken and used.
"Please, please, now," he begged.
"I know what you want," she cackled.
She dug her knife deep into the forest of curls at the base of his prick. He felt like a new born baby.
"Take me," he moaned.
"I'll take you like you've never been taken before," she said.
She spat into the tangle of blackness and scraped and pulled chunks of hair away. With the water left in the basin she scalded his crotch. Then she sliced away the last tufts until his balls were as bald as an egg and he felt as if he were dying with the agony.
CHAPTER FIVE
All night Regina lay in that back room. Faintly she heard the sounds of day passing into night and then into day again. She heard people in the salon outside. She heard water running and toilets flushing. For a long time she heard nothing.
She worried that Jennifer would be concerned that she did not come home. They were never out of each other's care. They always knew where each other was.
But now there was something new in her life which had nothing to do with Jennifer or anyone else. Something new which frightened and confused her. But it was also something which filled her with an ineffable joy. She felt like a flower or a child at play.
Even the pain in the long night was a small price to pay for the pleasure. To be taken care of, she thought, how wonderful!
The only thing which troubled her was where Morgan had gone. Why had he left her? She did not like being left alone. She never had. When she was very little she had been very scared of the dark.
Now that she was older she was not frightened any more. At least she was not frightened very much. At any rate this was a friendly kind of darkness. It held forbidden pleasures as well as foreboding terrors.
The dark was like a sweet father who would take care of her forever. But sometimes during the fitful sleep of the night she wondered if there were anyone there at all.
She thought that maybe there was no one. She thought maybe there was no one to come and loosen the chains she was bound with all through the night. She began to cry, feeling very sorry for herself.
She stirred herself and thought that somehow it was morning. A little girl came in with a tray of breakfast.
"I hope you slept well," she said.
"Fairly well, thank you," she said.
"I'm Mr. Morgan's niece," the little girl said, answering the unspoken question in Regina's mind. "I'm living with him. I help around the school and the salon. He sent you this breakfast. We have lots of people come to stay with us at the school."
Regina began to eat the breakfast hungrily. The sexual excitement of the night before gave her an appetite twice her normal one. She wolfed down the toast, eggs, and coffee in record time.
"Here," the little girl said, "this is for you too." She handed Regina a flimsy-looking nightgown.
When she had finished the breakfast she peeled away what remained of her brief bikini panties and put on the nightgown. The whole time she did this the child stood and stared at her. It made her a little uncomfortable.
"Are you staring at me?" she asked the little girl.
"Why, yes, I am," she said. "I've never seen anyone as pretty as you. What's your name?"
"My name is Regina," she said. "What's yours?"
"My name is Mary," she said. "I live here with Mr. Morgan. He's my uncle."
"Do you live here all the time?" Regina asked.
"I do now," she said, "ever since my mother and daddy died."
At that moment Morgan strode into the room.
He turned to Mary and said, "You better go and do the things you have to do. Go on, now."
The little girl waved goodby to Regina and ran out the door. Morgan closed it behind her.
"I guess you are a little rested from last night," he said. "It remains to be seen how you will work out here. You haven't done very much work with the machines or done any hairstyling. But that is not really the important adjustment you will have to make.
"Many girls come here and just don't make it with us. We have strict standards and we will not lower them. Even some girls who come and see and taste of what we have to offer, fail to pass the muster.
"It is not enough merely to enjoy the pleasure we will give you. You must crave what we want. You must luxuriate in what others tolerate. You must become a real devotee of torture and pain.
"Only then will you be fulfilled. Only then will you satisfy us. You must satisfy us. We do not allow anyone here who does not obey and submit.
"Did you speak to that little girl who brought you your breakfast?" he asked. "Yes, I did," she said.
"Well, even she has to please. She is only ten years old but she pleases. She submits. She must do like all others here do. She surrenders to the pain and discipline. Without discipline all would be lost."
While he was speaking Regina was thinking of the delicious pain of the comb and clip last night. She wondered if the cock of a man could feel as wonderful as the teeth of the comb.
She thought about her asshole and how she felt completely open and violated when he ripped her up it. She thought about the clips on her sides and especially on her nipples. She remembered the tearing searing pain as he ripped them off from her body.
There was nothing to do but surrender. But she had doubts about herself. She doubted whether she was brave enough to stand the pain. She doubted whether she was strong enough to stand the discipline.
Many others before her had tried and failed. Could she do it now? she wondered.
As if he were reading her mind, Morgan said, "You are wondering if you are cut out for this? Well, let's see right now."
At that he whipped a leather-thonged whip from behind the barber chair. He snapped it in the air. With no warning he brought it around and across her nubile form. It wrapped itself around her waist and slashed around her back.
She screamed and tingled with warm sunbursts of pleasure.
"Take off that nightgown," he said. "I want you all naked."
She stripped the filmy thing quickly from her body and threw it in a heap on the floor.
"Bend over backwards," he said.
She turned her back on him and bent as far over backwards as she could. Her back ached and her beautiful tits swung down almost brushing her chin. She looked at him upside down.
She saw him wave the whip high over his head. The thrill of terror came as she saw it come whirring down through the air. It hit her oquarely on the flat of her stretched-out stomach.
The blow sent shivers through her already shaking midsection. The chills reverberated up through her shoulders. Her ass quivered with the tension of maintaining the painful posture.
Her whole body quivered with the thrill of putting herself so at his mercy. The strain was excruciating in its pleasure.
'Take me, take me," she groaned, as he whipped her open underside. "I want to have it. I want it. Please give it to me. Make me over. Make me do it. I'll do anything!"
He waved the whip higher and higher. He aimed it to snap around her snatch and into the cleft between her thighs.
She thrilled when the flashing tips found their way into those tender parts. There was no way to describe the feeling of exaltation and humiliation she felt. The snap of cold leather turned to burning pain as it careened into her juicy twat.
No one could tell her this wasn't the ultimate pleasure, she thought. Now I'm free to be what I please, she smiled inwardly. No more of this hiding shit.
Once more Morgan expertly guided the leather thongs to tingling pleasure in her hairy-forested patch of black. Only a master could have made so perfect a score. Never did he miss, never did he falter.
The man of all moments for her now was there. He could revile her and curse her but she did not mind. The pain was growing and redoubling with each exact stroke. The loud cracks on bare belly skin became liquid thuds as the tips found their way into her steamy hole of joy.
Nor did the master neglect her nether reaches. He made sure her tiny crack and asshole did not suffer to be left out of the games. With skill he showed the leather whip where to send its craft of joy.
Another slash came down. This one landed square and straight down her great crack. The tip of one of the thongs found the tiny hole and snapped deeply into it. Regina thrilled as the whip reamed out her shit hole. Beautiful and empty was the feeling she got from the lash.
Morgan's arm was made of steel. She could almost feel its sinewy strength through the long hungering leather tentacles. Tirelessly he whipped her to a froth. Her cunt was literally steaming with passion. She could feel the juice of joy dripping out of it and down the crease where her ass met her legs.
Oh, such loveliness, she thought. She wished it could go on forever. She wished the pain and the agony could last the rest of her life. She never wanted to come down or back. The plain people who lived in the plain world without pain were not the people she wanted to live with and for.
He was hurting her. The man who made her feel as if she had a purpose and a joy in life was here. She loved to eat shit. To eat shit was the least of anything she would do for him. She craved him to make her do things. As she formed the word "things" in her mind she thrilled at its sexual pendulous feeling.
Each time Regina drifted off into her pleasure-fogged reveries, Morgan grew more enraged. It made a perfect circle.
The more she dreamed of pleasure the more he delivered pain. The more he whipped her revealed and widespread genitals the more she flew in heights of joyous delight. The more she soared the more he beat.
The circle was all the more complete because neither knew what the other was doing. Neither tried to please the other. It was as natural and bizarre as Siamese twins.
His rage was real and savage when he saw the half-formed dreamy smile on her back-tilted head. He longed to slash open her genitals and cut her neck when he saw this.
Her pleasure was real when she felt the lash and the burning passion it kindled in her loins. She did not know her pleasure provoked so much anger. She did not realize the anger she provoked sent more pleasure streaming her way.
The slashes on her belly and thighs crisscrossed each other in ugly welts. Her cunt was bleeding slightly and the blood tinged the tips of the myriad thongs. The blood on the tips made their slashing more painful.
"My dear Regina," Morgan said, "you do not seem to fully appreciate the gravity of your situation. You are at my mercy. I can do what I like with you. I will not hesitate to use my power. You must comply with my every wish."
The words made Regina all goose-bumpy. All through her neck and arched-over back she felt the tingles of delight. She spread her legs a little wider and tensed her belly expectantly. She did not have long to wait.
Like a ghost in silence Morgan moved around to her front. The sight he beheld was the beautiful girl bent over backwards. All the delights of her young form were exposed to him. The tender rolls of flesh aching to be beaten and pummelled were there in all their glory. There were the taut and rosy nipple tips and the tawny crescents of her back-hanging breasts.
As his eyes traveled down the voluptuous contours of her body he came to her hill of pleasure. The hair was thick and perfumed with her blood, sweat, and sweet love juice. The posture of submission and abandon she maintained with visible strain stirred him in the bowels of his desire.
But along with his desire at seeing her recumbent and open was a desire to make her hurt. He saw in her posture the possibilities of pain and suffering. He longed to see her wince and to hear her cry out.
To see her squirm against the bonds of his own design was his ultimate pleasure. To see her terror at the prospect of torture thrilled him to his core.
There was no return from this precipice of desire. He swung the whip around sidearm and brought it, sucking air, across her thighs. Back and forth he treated each leg to a taste of the pain and torture.
Regina stiffened her body even more. The new direction of the blows rekindled the flames of desire which had turned to embers while Morgan had stood ogling her. How can he know so well? she thought.
The whip slapped around the back of her thigh and found the tender and less tanned flesh on its inner surface. This seat of pain and pleasure responded with a tingling which was a joy-shot right to the center of her guts.
"Oh," she moaned. "Do me, do me like that till I crawl!"
Morgan said nothing but slashed more viciously with his instrument of exquisite torture. The fiendish strands wove into a pattern of humming passion in the air and smashed themselves like a swarm of horny bees on her hanging crotch parts.
Closer and closer he came with the whip to perfect accuracy. Each blow came around the back of her thighs and snapped in a waiting crevice of delight. Her crack ached. Her asshole bulged out and sucked in with desire. Her cuntlips engorged themselves with blood and spun a magic feeling through her lower stomach.
She dreamed of being impaled on spikes and jagged cocks. Her reveries were of bloody impaling and twisting pain. The dreams flowed in and out her mind with the crashing and tingling of the whip.
His ways were so enticing. He lured her in with her own lust. Her pain was redoubled as her thighs spread her cuntlips further and further apart. She longed to be punished there.
"There, there!" she moaned, deep, deep in her sexy throat.
Morgan seemed to understand. Perhaps it was the movement of her pussy spreading further and further. Only a master of the arts of torture would have perceived the tiny quivers of longing to be hurt. But Morgan was such a man. Few could match his devilish and inventive feats of pain. Few could match his cruelty when the victim cried for mercy from her own lust. There was no mercy in him.
So it was with Regina. There was no mercy for her luscious melting pussy. He saw and he conquered instantly. He brought the whip singing through the close, fetid air of the torture room. It struck home with a searing sting which cut her straight up the middle.
Her clit revolted in agonies but she melted with the pain and humiliation which she craved.
"Oh yes," she said. "Yes, yes, yes. Now is the time."
"You bet your sweet ass, my little delight," he said. He lifted his heavily shod foot and gave her a shoving kick with the hard heel of it. The well-placed blow shot right between her aching thighs to her honey-haired lips. It jolted her head back further and knocked her sprawling on the floor.
"Yes, the time is now, Miss Shoe-In-The-Hole," he sneered. "But you don't know what that means, yet."
As she lay on the floor he bent down and bound her legs and feet together by the ankles and wrists. When he was done she was trussed up like a calf at roundup time.
"Let's go to the branding," he said. "You look all ready."
Her heart quivered inside. This was true and real terror and she was genuinely frightened. It thrilled her. This was what she longed for. The excitement of arousal was nothing without this.
He carried her out the door and down the back way to the basement of the shop. Through the boiler room they went. Past all the old newspapers and garbage cans he carried her. It was dingy down there.
Then with one hand still holding Regina's naked form, he reached for a set of keys and opened an unobtrusive door at the far end of the basement.
He turned the key, walked in, and closed the door behind them without turning on the lights. When he did Regina saw a beautiful warm room with mirrors on the walls. All about were couches and surgical metal cabinets.
Alone one wall was a display of all kinds of scissors, tweezers, and knives. There were movable lights and hair dryers standing around.
Morgan carried Regina over to what looked like an operating table and laid her down on her side. Then he went over to one of the light blue metal cabinets and opened it.
From it he took a pair of black fishnet stockings, a pair of very high black high-heeled shoes, and a garter belt the likes of which Regina had never seen before.
The garter belt was black and looked lacey. But as he brought it near her she could see that it was embedded with pieces of broken glass. All around the belt part of the pieces stuck out. Some of the pieces were as large as one inch long. All the pieces looked very jagged and razor-sharp.
"What's that for?" she asked, a little apprehensively.
Without replying Morgan put down his load on a nearby table and withdrew a red silk handkerchief from his back pants pocket.
He swiftly pulled the thin restrainer around her face and into her mouth. He pushed her head not gently to the side and tied a very tight knot at the back of her head.
Regina looked up at him with wide and horrified eyes. The combination of the locked soundless room, the operating table, the glass-studded garter belt, and the gag, made her frightened.
"Don't be frightened, Regina," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you very much. It will all be over very soon if you just cooperate. Now don't move an inch."
He began untying the leather thongs from her wrists and ankles. When they were unbound he pressed first her wrists down. With his iron grip he forced them into the round metal clamps at the sides of the table and pressed a lever under the table, closing them around her delicate wrists.
Then he grabbed her squirming legs and rudely forced the garter belt up over her mountainous thighs and over her mound of joy. He fastened the jagged thing at the back of her waist and waited for her reaction.
The bloody stains were already appearing on her hips and thighs. The more she lay on the belt the harder it seemed to grow into her flesh.
"Maybe, now, you'll learn to he still," he said. "You will find that the more you move the more it will cut and gouge you. I advise you very strongly not to move at all, no matter what happens."
Saying no more, Morgan slipped on the tight net stockings. All the way up her statuesque legs he slid the stranded garment. When they were pulled tight he fastened them to the straps hanging down from the belt. Finally he put on the pinching shoes.
"You're all dressed up with nowhere to go," he said.
He took her legs and spread them apart. Then he tied each separately to a hook under the table. Thus secured, she was spread-eagled from the waist down on the table.
Regina felt as if her limbs would crack. The clamps on the table held her wrists so tightly that she could not move her hands at all. Her elbows were bent back over the design of the table so that they felt ready to crack.
Her legs were spread wide apart by the same electrical cords which had bound her in a previous torture. But she was also bent back from the hips over the edge of the table. Every movement was an agony. She tried to move as little as possible.
From the wall Morgan took one of the tweezers. It was a large one made of a heavy metal. Its tip was broad and flat. Where the two pieces met there were interlocking dents and nipples. It looked like a vicious affair designed to hold and never let go.
He came to the table and stood looking down at Regina for about fifteen seconds. A smile played over his effeminate and well-cared-for features.
He reached out with the tweezers and gave her a phenomenal pinch ! in the tit. It could hardly be called a pinch for it was more vicious than anything which should bear that name. It was more like the tearing of a ravenous beast.
She howled in her agony as the blood rushed to the abused nipple. She felt as if she were sinking into the table with the pain.
Morgan looked pleased with himself. He ran the tweezers lightly down from under her chin. He, let it wander over her captivating torso.
Where would the pain come next? Regina wondered. She shrank away from the instrument as it made its journey down her body. She did not have long to wait to find out the pain point.
He reached her mound of solid passion and played with the jungle of hair covering it. He let the tweezers wander with more than a little pressure through the tangle. He let his ' instrument pull the knotted strands where they were caught on each other.
There was no way for her to escape. She could not move that part of her body for the ropes tying her legs. Morgan's probing became more and more painful.
Suddenly he grabbed a single hair and yanked it straight out of her body. He held it up in the air over her head.
"This is what you deserve," he said. "Now for the disciplining. We'll see how you feel when your precious small forest is gone!"
Regina could not believe her ears. Her body jerked away from the descending tweezers. But there was no escape. Into the greasy and damp forest Morgan plunged his threatening instrument. One by one and then two by two he began.
The pulling was intense agony. She felt as if she were being stripped bare. The "yes" and the "no" were mingled in her mind. She did not know which way to turn. On that torture rack there was no way for her to turn.
Morgan became more wild. He pulled tufts from the beautiful curving top of her pussy. Then he descended into the depths of her lips. The tender junction between her legs and her vulva became his target. He pulled with abandon.
She cried out in agony as he pulled and balded her private parts. But he was heedless of her cries. He only seemed to hear them in his animal nature where they stirred him on to more cruel treatment.
Her pink pussy was becoming crimson with the blood from the viciously ripped-out hair roots. Morgan moved around to the foot of the table and removed his pecker from his fly. Taking careful aim he sent a stream of burning piss onto the raw cunt box he had nearly denuded.
Regina felt the stream as hot, searing release. All through her body she felt the pleasure of the torture. She groaned deep in her throat.
"Rip it out!" she begged.
Morgan attacked her bloody pussy again and to the accompaniment of her pants of pain ripped every hair from its delicate surface.
CHAPTER SIX
"Why, hello, Mrs. Smith," Miss Ross said to the short, curvaceous woman who had just stepped through the door of the beauty salon.
"I'm glad you could make it," she said. "I was afraid you would miss your regular appointment."
"Oh no," Mirs Smith said, "I'd never miss that!" She emphasized her statement with a dramatic lifting of her eyebrows and a widening of her eyes.
This cute twenty-five-year-old housewife who lived a few blocks from the salon in an ordinary middleclass part of the city was a regular customer of the "Lookswell" School. But she was more than just a regular customer to have her hair done every week. She came for more than that.
What it was that she craved she could not find at home. Her husband was a plain and slightly boring drone of twenty-nine. His idea of a good fuck was any time in bed when he did not come before he got inside her. She really loathed him for his clumsy and stupid manner.
But he was such a fool he did not even know it. He thought he was pretty hot stuff. She thought he was a piece of shit.
For a few years she suffered unhappily, knowing something was wrong. Perhaps, she thought, it's me. Perhaps, there is something I don't know about.
Then she realized it was not her who was in the wrong. Somehow her husband was not giving her something which she wanted. It was something which she deserved. As time went on it was something which she craved.
By the time she heard about "Lookswell" from her best friend she was ready for just about anything. She was tied down in the house with her two young children. Her husband was away into the evening at his job. When he came home he was not much to be with, anyway. Of course she had given up on trying to enjoy sex with him long ago. She merely submitted herself to his unexciting ministrations and made it as plain as she could that she found them so.
The day she went to "Lookswell" for the first time seemed like the first day of her life. It was only two years ago, she thought, but I don't know what I was living for before that.
Miss Ross was the one who introduced her to the routine of the place. First she would have her hair washed and wrapped in a towel. Then she would go into the baVk room to have a facial.
When she got into the back room the real important activities of the afternoon began.
Some days it would simply be beatings by Miss Ross. Other times masked men would come in dressed in medieval torturers' clothes. There were racks and wheels among the many instruments of pain in that back room.
The basement was reserved for more lengthy and elaborate encounters. In that basement she had been beaten, prodded with electrodes, burned, and gang-fucked up the ass.
Miss Ross was an exquisite torturer. She never let up until the victim was well past the point of complete terror and abject misery. She never failed to think up novel and excruciatingly inventive pain-giving instruments.
She had been beaten by many different men and women. Sometimes they used their hands, sometimes other things. She could remember chains, straps, thongs, barbed wire and wet rope.
They would bind her in excruciating positions. Each time a new and vulnerable part of her body would be exposed to abuse.
Mrs. Smith thought she could not live without the excitement of the "Lookswell" School.
Now, two years later, she was a regular weekly customer. No one suspected she went to the beauty parlor once a week for more than just a prettying-up.
This day Miss Ross smiled sweetly as always and led her to her regular chair in the back. She personally attended to washing her hair. She took particular care to do a good job on her auburn wavy hair.
No one would have suspected what a tyranical bitch Miss Ross was by looking at her gently and carefully washing Mrs. Smith's hair. She looked the sweet young thing.
After Miss Ross was finished she handed Mrs. Smith a towel and said, "We're going down to the basement today, my dear."
They went to the back of the school and opened the door to the basement. Down the stairs they went. They walked all the way back to the same door Regina had been carried through the day before by Morgan.
Mrs. Smith was no stranger to this route. Her heart palpitated with expectation. She had nothing but painful and ecstatic memories of this door to hell.
Miss Ross opened it with her key and they went inside. From one of the metal cabinets she took out a strange looking rubber suit.
The suit looked like a skin-diver's wet suit. But it differed from this by virtue of its being all in one piece. It was put on from the back by way of a tight-fitting zipper. The collar was closed as also were the feet.
"Put this on," Miss Ross said in a suddenly commanding voice.
Mrs. Smith complied meekly. She sat down and removed her conservatively cut suit. Then she took off her undergarments and laid them neatly out on the couch beside her.
When she was completely naked she stood up and stepped into the suit. The thin but very strong rubber was cold against her fresh skin. She slipped her legs into the tight legs of the garment.
It took all her effort to squeeze her feet all the way down into the feet of the ever-tightening and clutching suit. The instant her feet and toes were stuck all the way down there, she felt the rubber constricting them. It felt as if the suit were some kind of giant clam trying to suck her alive.
She glanced up at Miss Ross questioningly. The look in her eyes was as if to say, "Do you want me to put this on?"
Miss Ross barely even acknowledged the look. She stood tall over the struggling woman and looked down with contempt fluttering around her eyes and lips. She merely held her head a little higher to indicate her orders still stood without modification.
Mrs. Smith resumed struggling with the recalcitrant garment. She ducked her head under the collar piece and up through the very tight-fitting neck. It was a struggle to get her head through the collar. It was so tight it pulled her hair painfully.
At last she got her head through and began sliding her arms into the sleeves. The sleeves seemed so long and narrow. At the end of each sleeve was a tiny rubber glove. She forced first her left and then her right hand into the ever-tightening tubes.
From the instant she shoved her limbs into the rubber torture suit they began to throb. It felt as if her whole body were crammed into ' the confines of a too-small pipe.
She could feel the blood pound and the nerves throb close to the skin. She managed to get her whole body inside the thing. It was then she noticed its peculiar design.
In the front where there should have been extra room for her ample breasts there were simply holes. The holes were not big enough to allow her boobs to tumble out. They were big enough to let them only thrust upward in an effort to escape the suit.
They looked like white lava bubbles in some fleshy tar pit. The crown of the bubbles were the two cherry nipples twisted and curled up i around themselves with excitement.
"Roll over," Miss Ross ordered after Mrs.
Smith had sat back down on the couch.
She did as she was told. Miss Ross savagely zipped up the back of the suit, imprisoning her client within.
Mrs. Smith could hardly breathe inside the tight tube of rubber. Her breasts throbbed where they were half out of the suit. Every section of her body felt confined and throbbing.
Miss Ross roughly grabbed her up by the armpit and threw her toward the table at the other side of the room. That was the very same table Regina had been tortured on by Morgan. Now it was to play some part in the unfolding of Mrs. Smith's life within "Lookswell."
"Get up on it and he down," Miss Ross shrieked.
"But what are you going to do?" Mrs. Smith asked.
"It's not your place to ask questions," Miss Ross said with a snarl. "If you know what's good for you, you'll do as you're told."
Meekly Mrs. Smith got on the table. She lowered herself down and lay there. She stared up at the ceiling with a tingling coursing through her veins. This was the moment she waited for each week.
The time when the expectation and terror were the highest were the times of greatest pleasure for Mrs. Smith. She did not even know herself that this was what she craved the most. She was frightened to her core by the things they did to her.
But all the things thrilled her and she went back for more. Over and over they beat and tortured her. But she loved and craved the pain. She would not miss a week at "Lookswell" for anything in the world. She would sacrifice her children or her husband in order to enjoy this pleasure.
They might even kill me, she thought with fear. But they never did. Again the circle was complete. She knew they might kill her. The thought gave her exquisite pleasure. But they never did. For to kill her would be to extinguish the flame of suffering which warmed them.
Miss Ross did not know that she danced in this circle dance, either. But Mrs. Smith was safe in her hands as she would be in the arms of her ineffectual husband. Maybe she was more safe in her arms. Perhaps Miss Ross loved her more.
Morgan was a different story, though. There was something about him that left him on the edge. He was apt to break the circle someday. His passion seemed more intense and his frenzy more abandoned.
But at that moment Mrs. Smith did not know she was safe. Perhaps in that instant she really was not safe. After all, things can happen which are only random. Perhaps a slip or a twist would do what she feared most.
Miss Ross came over to the table and looked down at Mrs. Smith. She was so pretty and youthful. Her wet hair lay close to her head and her striking eyes looked up at Miss Ross.
She said to her victim, "Put your arms flat on the table."
When Mrs. Smith had complied, those clamps came up and around her wrists. She strained at the unexpected and never-before-experienced bondage.
"Now, my dear," Miss Ross said, "you think that we don't see what has been going on. You come here week after week and take advantage of all our facilities and expect to get off scot-free. Well, that era of leniency is coming to a close." , So saying, Miss Ross whipped out a straight razor and opened it.
"You are all the same," she said to her captive. "You think you are doing so much and you are doing nothing. You enjoy what we give you and like an ungrateful child you want to escape responsibility for your actions. Well, you cannot escape. You will pay!"
She began stropping the razor. Mrs. Smith looked up wild-eyed at the flashing steel. She strained against the bonds but the clamps on her wrists and the thick rubber band which Miss Ross had snapped around her legs, held her fast.
Mrs. Smith began shouting.
"If you don't shut up," Miss Ross shouted back, "there is no telling what might happen to you. Do as I tell you. Be quiet!"
Once again, Mrs. Smith obeyed. She was used to doing nothing else in the face of Miss Ross's commands. It would have been futile to disobey. Miss Ross's strength was overwhelming.
Waving the razor high in the air, Miss Ross began yelling into Mrs. Smith's frightened face.
"Now you will see what real discipline means," she said. "Up until now you have just been playing. Now you will begin to work."
Miss Ross turned toward the wall in back of the table and picked up the end of the hose that was there. One end was attached to a nozzle in the wall, the other was in her hand.
She turned on the faucet marked "H." From out the hose came a thick stream of scalding water. She aimed it at the face of Mrs. Smith.
Mrs. Smith gasped and spluttered as the scalding liquid hit her in the face. She felt as if she were drowning. She struggled to breathe in the deluge.
"You like that," Miss Ross said. "Maybe you'll grow gills, then you'll be able to breathe."
But Mrs. Smith could hardly hear the mocking for the water in her ears. It splashed in her head and around the tight collar. The burning was as bad as the drowning feeling.
All up and down the body of the prostrate figure Miss Ross played the stream of hot water. Through the rubber Mrs. Smith could feel the heat as though it were on her bare skin. She writhed as if being scalded with red-hot coals. But the pain was liquid and sought her out.
Miss Ross paid special attention to the exposed breasts. She shot the water at them from all angles. The pain and the pressure brought thrills to the chest of Mrs. Smith.
"Oh please," she said, "that hurts too much!" She tried to twist away from the jet.
But Miss Ross was relentless. She tortured the delicious boobs until they were crimson. Then she wended her way down her body to the rubber-clothed crotch.
There she shot the jet right into the V between her lady's legs. This sent an even more agonized expression of joy and pain to the face of her victim. She contorted her face as if being tortured on the rack. But the torture was as much pleasure as pain.
Finally Miss Ross doused her head. Quickly, then, she switched the faucet to cold and sprayed the startled Mrs. Smith. In an instant the ice-cold water had the woman's teeth chattering. But like an Eskimo in a blizzard, there was no escape.
Miss Ross turned off the hose and threw it down on the floor. Then she came toward her captive.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"I'm going to shut you up, first off," she said, slapping her across the face. In that, Miss Ross succeeded, for Mrs. Smith did not say another word. Her only sign of agitation was the white of her eyes staring up at Miss Ross.
Miss Ross had ways of persuading recalcitrant people to obey. One of her pet tricks was pressing the Adam's apple until breathing became impossible. Another neat trick was pulling the hair way down at the roots until the pain was excruciating.
Using both these techniques, she easily subdued Mrs. Smith. There was no way the woman could escape the inevitable. What the inevitable was she was about to find out.
"I think," Miss Ross said, "you've had that hair style much too long. I am getting tired of taking care of the same style month after month. Frankly, I'm bored with you and your head.
"This is what I'm going to do about it. All you have to do is watch." So saying, she adjusted the mirror in the ceiling so that Mrs. Smith could see her reflection clearly as she looked straight up.
Miss Ross got a good grip on the roots of her hair and pulled her head all the way back. Then she coughed and began shaving Mrs. Smith's head at the side of her forehead.
Mrs. Smith gasped. Her whole body tensed. She looked up with growing horror at her reflection on the ceiling. She saw more and more of her forehead appear. Slowly her forehead extended up and became her bald head.
Miss Ross worked away mercilessly. She had no ears for the groans and the sobs of the young woman. Or more precisely, those noises did nothing but provoke her to greater effort.
"I am going to bald you," she crooned in a sing-song voice. "You will look so beautiful, so pretty," she said, gritting her teeth more and more as she spoke.
But it was only clear that Mrs. Smith's head was losing its covering. She felt like a skinned animal. She flashed the thought of what she would say to her husband. But even the horror and the shame she pictured could not prevent her from being turned on by the firm hot hand possessing her.
Slowly all her hair was scraped away. She stared fixedly up at the mirror. She could not believe what she saw. Her slightly pointed bald head gleamed up under Miss Ross's knife. It gleamed even more when Miss Ross turned on the hot water and washed the clumps of hair off the limp woman's head.
Miss Ross spit in her face and turned off the water. She rolled the hose back up and picked up the open razor.
"You think we're finished with you," she said. "But you're wrong. This is not all you'll have to endure. One other thing. What you tell others is of no consequence to me. But if you mention "Lookswell" in any way you will be very sorry indeed. You are as much involved as we are. If you hurt us, you will hurt yourself even more."
Even in her misery Mrs. Smith knew Miss Ross was speaking the truth. Her denuded skull was only one more price she would have to pay for her pleasure. There was no escape from the responsibility of her actions.
She craved the torture as much as they craved to torture her. Of course they had photos of her doing unspeakable and humiliating things. But that is not what kept her from thinking of revealing the source of her bizarre nudity.
Even now they had abused her so brutally she stirred inside at the thought. They could do nothing to her to make her ever give it up. Nothing!
Miss Ross disappeared from the room. She left the lights on. Mrs. Smith lay on the table staring at herself in the mirror.
The tears were drying in her eyes. She felt like a hurt child who is starting to feel better. She did not know that very soon she would feel much worse.
After a long quiet while Morgan appeared in the room. He was dressed in a tight-fitting rubber suit. It was similar to the one Mrs. Smith was wearing except that it had no cut-outs at the breasts and it was of even thinner material.
Through the clinging suit she could see the muscles and bones of the well-built man. He seemed to be wearing nothing underneath. She could see the jut of his hips and the bulge of his crotch. When he moved she saw the muscles in his chest and thighs ripple.
She could not tell if the garment caused him as much pain as the one she was wearing caused her. But as she lay there she wondered
IIS what he would do with her.
He walked around the table very slowly, surveying her. Then he loosened the band of rubber around her feet. He reached under the table and released the lever to the wrist clamps.
Mrs. Smith was free. But that feeling did not last. Morgan grabbed her arms and twisted her body around so she was lying on her stomach. He grabbed the zipper and jerked it down.
She screamed when the zipper caught a snag of her voluptuous back. But he paid no attention. He pulled the zipper all the way down and started peeling her from the suit.
He started with her head and shoulders. Then he sucked her arms from the garment. The blood rushed back into the long-deprived arms, making them throb and ache instantly.
When he finshed with her arms he began peeling her tits from their holes. Where they pressed against the too-small openings in the suit, there were red rings. When he peeled them from the holes she felt the breasts coming away from the groove-making edges.
They parted from the suit with a sucking pop. The thrill they sent through her was exquisite, but she did not have time to appreciate this. He continued removing the suit from her form.
The wet suit resisted his efforts at coming off from her hips. Only with extreme difficulty and tugging could he dislodge it.
She felt like a diver who has come up from the deep too fast. Her legs throbbed and ached with the rushing of the blood back into them. The rubber was of some peculiar material and it tore and sucked as he pulled it from her. She felt one big hickey by the time he was done.
He threw the suit in a heap on the floor and refastened the wrist clamps. Then he took from out a closet behind him some heavy chains and bound her to the table at her ankles and her breasts.
The cold steel shivered Mrs. Smith to the core. She looked up at the ceiling and hardly recognized herself.
Where was the ordinary young housewife? The person she saw lying there was a bizarre creature with a shaved head. She was bound with cold-looking chains which pinched and pressed deeply into her soft flesh. As this creature struggled she looked like a vision from a lustful fantasy.
But it really was her. There really was a demon in black rubber standing over her with a hose in his hand. There was scalding hot water shooting from the nozzle. She could feel the heat and see the steam.
Morgan tilted the table back over the basin at the corner of the room. He turned on the water and shot a spray over her abused and now bald head. He washed it perfectly clean.
The scalding water burned but Mrs. Smith struggled to keep her eyes open. She longed to see what he would do to her.
Next he tilted the table back even more and pressed the nozzle against each breast, turning each one in turn pink. The quivers of breath-taking sensation spiraled out and inward.
Her fantasy was reaching its frenzy of conclusion. He moved the nozzle down her body, making her succulent flesh vibrate. He turned off the water for a moment.
Then with a swift flick of the wrist he turned on the water and jammed the spray nozzle up her honey hole.
She felt exploded with scorching pleasure. It burned. It ached. He rubbed it harder and harder. The pain became pleasure, became pain. In the endless frenzy she did not remember when it was finally over, or why.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jennifer was the first of the two to get home. She staggered in the door and fell on the floor. She lay there soaking up the good feeling of being home and safe.
For a long time she just remained motionless. Then she stirred herself to go into the bathroom and look at herself. She stepped back in shock when she looked in the mirror.
Where there should have stood a young fresh-looking blonde girl, there stood a beaten and desperate looking woman. There were bags under her eyes and her face sagged. Her hair was all tangled and matted. Her whole body drooped inside her sweater and skirt.
All over her visible skin she saw welts and bruises. She stared at herself in the mirror for a full minute without moving or flinching. Then she sat down heavily on the toilet seat and put her head in her hands.
Her whole body felt as if it were loaded with plaster-of-paris. Every second she felt stiffer than she did the second before.
All the pleasure and excitement of the past two days were forgotten. Now all she felt was anguish, pain and shame. How did things turn out like this, she wondered.
While she was standing there Regina came quietly into the apartment. All the lights were out, save the one in the bathroom. She walked all the way to the far end of the apartment and stood in the bathroom doorway.
The two friends just looked at each other. There was no speech but there was communication. They stared deep into each other's eyes. Suddenly they both started to cry. The tears were an explosion which sent them into each other's arms where they clung to each other like drowning souls in a cosmic shipwreck.
"Are you all right?" Jennifer finally managed.
"Yeah, pretty much okay, I guess," Regina said. "How about you?" she said.
"Jennifer did not reply. She lowered her eyes and stared at the tiled floor.
"I don't know what happened," she said. "Suddenly she was doing those things to me. You know I lied to you. I never lied to you before. But this time I lied to you."
Jennifer was choking on her tears. Regina put her strong arms around her friend and rocked her back and forth. After a while Jennifer looked into her eyes.
"I liked all those things," she said. "I even liked it when she put that thing up my cunt. Even that!"
Regina held her friend even tighter. Her eyes began to fill up with tears again.
"I know how you feel," she said. "I know because I feel the same way."
Jennifer stared at her dumbfounded. Regina stepped back and grabbed the bottom of her own T-shirt. With one swift motion she pulled it up to her neck. Jennifer gasped.
"Whit did he do to you?" Jennifer asked.
Regina did not say a thing. She reached her arms in back of her and unfastened her bra. With a shrug of her shoulders she thrust her breasts out of her ample bra.
Jennifer saw the gentle nipples of her friend. But they did not look like they had so many times in the past. As always they were pert and tensed when they were exposed to the gaze of the outside world.
But now they were torn and scabby. There was dried blood all around the aureola. Scars and scratches ran jaggedly over the smooth contours. Regina's entire chest was covered with the small peculiar scars made by the tearing hair clips.
Nothing could describe the shock her friend felt. Her thoughts ran in circles of doubt and self-hate. Why, she thought, didn't I steer her away from the place? It was my lust that led her into this, Jennifer thought.
Regina still said nothing. Slowly her hands went to the snap of her blue jeans. She pulled it open and lowered the zipper. She was wearing no underpants. They were lost somewhere at "Lookswell."
She parted the flaps of the opened jeans and pushed them down at the hips. As the pants slid down over her full hips Jennifer saw the battered mound below.
"That fucking monster," she muttered between her tense lips.
Regina pulled her pants lower and her friend saw the extent of the damage. Her pussy was not merely bald. It was plucked like a chicken. Here and there was the stubble of hairs that Morgan had neglected. The lips of her luscious cunt were torn and ragged.
"It's not your fault, Jennifer," she said. "Look, I'm as guilty of it as you. I dug the shit out of it. I don't know what came over me. When they started doing those things I just melted inside."
"I know what you mean," Jennifer said. "It was like nothing else I've had. I've been around too."
The two friends turned and walked out of the bathroom into the kitchen. They made a pot of tea and sat down at the kitchen table to think over what they were going to do.
"It's horrible," Regina said. "There's a little girl who lives there. She's Morgan's niece and I think they beat her too. We can't let this go on."
Jennifer looked up slyly at Regina. Can't we, her eyes seemed to be saying.
"I know what you're thinking," Regina said. "I dig it, you dig it. But they'll kill us. They're crazy."
"But you've never even fucked anyone," Jennifer said. "You don't know. This is better than fucking. There's something they have that I haven't found anywhere. When those lights go off in my head I don't give a shit about anything. They can do whatever they please to me." I
Regina sipped her tea.
"If we go on like this," she said, "we'll be their slaves. We won't be able to leave. There will be no life for us but the life they want to give us. I don't want that for me and I don't want that for you."
"What can we do?" Jennifer said. "We can't go to the police. That would put us in a worse fix than now."
"But maybe we could threaten them," Regina said. "If they thought we might go to the police they might stop."
But the flaw in this idea appeared to both of them simultaneously. They sat there in that dingy kitchen wondering what to do.
If they threatened the pair of torturers with exposure they might be so frightened as to close up the "Lookswell" Beauty School. But surely two people with their predilection and skill would find somewhere else to practice their cruel art.
They might choose another town or another state. But there would always be a ripe field in which they could sow the seeds of their poisoned art.
It would do no good to chase them away. In a way it would be a bad thing. For they would escape the wrath of the two young girls. They would be free to continue somewhere else.
Their anger at the humiliation they received would not allow the girls to accept such a solution. They wanted vengeance. Slowly a plan began to form in their minds.
"What if we went there," Regina said, "and pretended to be submitting to some more of their discipline. Couldn't we surprise them and turn the tables on them? Maybe that would change their minds about the whole situation."
"That's kind of dangerous," Jennifer said. "They might overpower us and make it pretty rough. They might be really nasty if we tried to trick them and failed. We're taking a mighty big chance."
"Of course we're taking a big chance," Regina said. "But we have to do something!"
"I guess you're right," Jennifer finally said.
The night advanced slowly. The two young women cleaned up the apartment and decided to take a shower and tend to their wounds.
They took off their clothes and went to the bathroom. Jennifer stepped into the shower and turned on the water. She stood under the soothing jet of water as if washing the horrible experiences of the past day from herself.
"Please wash my back," Jennifer said. "I want a touch on my back. But be gentle."
Without saying anything Regina stepped into the shower and wet herself all over. Then she picked the soap up and lathered it in her hands. She washed her friend's back gently all over.
Jennifer sighed as her hands glided up and down her bruised flesh.
"You know," she said, "that still isn't as nice as all the things they did to me. That pounding and whipping just took me to a froth. How about you?"
Regina did not have to reply. Her friend could tell as she glanced over her shoulder that her friend was lost in reveries of the past torture.
"That doesn't change anything," Jennifer said. "We have to go in there tomorrow and do a job. It doesn't matter how we feel now. If we let ourselves get sucked in we'll never get out."
On that note the two finished their shower in silence and prepared for bed. They did not realize that the shower they shared was portentous of the fate of their plan for the following day. That shower was to almost wreck their plan so resolutely laid.
The next morning they woke early and had a hurried breakfast. Then they dressed and headed uptown to the "Lookswell" school.
The day was bright and cool. They felt almost jaunty as they made their way to the school. The night seemed to have worked wonders on their wounds and hurts.
They felt almost as good as new. Bouncy and pert, Jennifer swept along. Beside her, the darker and more mysterious Regina strode. It was as if both were deliberately not thinking of the violence and vengeance which was in their hearts.
The trip was quick and they found themselves standing in front of the familiar exterior of the school. They still found it hard to believe this unprepossessing exterior could hide two beasts.
Miss Ross answered the door with her usual smile.
"It's nice to see you two," she said brightly. "I trust you both had restful nights."
Regina stared at this remarkable woman. How, she thought, can she be so cool after what they have put us through?
"I don't think you could say we had a restful night," Regina said. "But we don't mind."
"I'm glad to hear that," Miss Ross said. "I wouldn't want anything to upset you two. You see, I'm very fond of you both."
They chatted fairly amiably for a few minutes about what they would be doing in the next week learning the operation of the salon. But the discussion was charged with the scheming of the three women.
Miss Ross was contemplating the coming excitement of torture which she had planned for the two girls. Regina and Jennifer were going over in their heads the rough plan they had worked out for avenging their abuse.
In actuality the plan was little more than a broad strategy. They planned to acquiesce up to a point. Then they would strike.
"Why don't we go into the back room," Miss Ross said. "We can be more comfortable while I tell you about the school."
Regina and Jennifer exchanged quick and significant glances. Jennifer wondered if Miss Ross could sense the tension and expectation in their manner. They followed Miss Ross through the back door which had become so newly very familiar to them.
They sat down on one of the couches. Miss Ross pulled up a large comfortable looking chair close to the sofa and smiled at them.
"Well my children," she said, "we have gotten to know each other rather well in these few days. Yet I am afraid there is something wrong between us.
The two young girls tried to look surprised. They did not know if they succeeded. They tried to hide their anxiety. Regina coughed and Jennifer shifted her weight around uncertainly. Miss Ross regarded them intently.
"I feel," she said, "that I have struck a nerve of truth. Perhaps we should retire to the basement to pursue this further. After all we can't have any discontent among us. We are like a strong family and must be united."
In spite of themselves both Regina and Jennifer felt a thrill of excitement at the mention of the basement. Their apprehension at confronting Miss Ross was mingled with the memory of the past tortures. Their succulent loins stirred with lust.
This conflict of lust and revenge made it difficult for either one of them to think clearly. They did not really know from one moment to the next if they were plotting revenge or anticipating pleasure.
As if she sensed this confusion, Miss Ross pressed on.
"Yes," she said, "I think it best we go down into the basement now. Come on."
With very mixed feelings the girls rose and followed Susan out the door and down the back stairway to the basement. They found themselves very shortly in the room of past agonies. They stood nervously in the middle of the room while Miss Ross closed the door and locked it.
"I'm sure you both remember this room," Miss Ross said. "But I don't think you have ever been here together."
The girls stirred on the couch. They were tense with anticipation of some act on Miss Ross's part. Each wondered what would happen next.
But Miss Ross surprised both of them by smiling and leaning casually back in her chair. Then she got up and went over to the glass cabinet on the wall. From the cabinet she took a couple of bottles and an ice bucket.
"I trust you would not object to a little drink," the older woman said. "I always think it's the best way to get to know people. Would rum be okay?"
With honest eagerness the girls both nodded their heads. They were very up-tight by this situation and longed to find some way out. The drink seemed a lovely way to just relax. In addition, Miss Ross was being so kind they began to forget the ultimate purpose of their visit.
With her back to the two girls, Miss Ross mixed two rum punches. She spiked the sweet fruit punch with huge jolts of 180-proof Jamaican rum. Then she fixed herself one with barely any alcohol in it.
She turned, the two drinks in hand, and brought them over to the girls. Both took them and immediately drank about half the glass. Miss Ross sipped and watched.
Sitting down again she said, "I think we can be frank with each other. I was very anxious for you two to be part of our school from the moment you walked through the door.
"Many people, both men and women, come to our school. Some want to be students, some clients. But when I saw you last week I knew you were both very special. You have, whether you know it or not, a certain innocence.
"Your craving comes from so deep within you that you cannot control it. You can barely name it. You are like animals in the heat of some instinctual frenzy.
"I guess you think me bold in talking to you like this. Perhaps Morgan would be displeased if he knew I spoke to you so frankly. But I see in you two some of what I was when I came here."
A deep feeling of love welled up in both girls for this woman so lately their tormentor. All thoughts of revenge fled.
She got out of her chair and came to sit on the couch with them. They moved close to each other to make room for her. They felt the heat of each other. Miss Ross put one arm around Regina who sat next to her and the other hand on Jennifer's thigh.
"We must be friends," she said to them.
Regina leaned her head down and put it on Miss Ross's majestic breast. The powerful woman held her close; Jennifer moved closer and put her head in Regina's lap.
Miss Ross cupped Regina's inviting boob and began unbuttoning the girl's blouse. Regina just reclined as if in a trance. She unbuttoned the starched shirt all the way to the navel revealing Regina's beautiful firm tits. She was bra-less.
Next Miss Ross unbuttoned the top of Regina's shapely velour bellbottoms. Her voluptuous belly appeared as she undid the buttoned fly. All the way down to her pleasure valley Miss Ross went. The hairless pussy appeared.
Regina moaned low as Miss Ross slipped her hand into the open pants. She found the bald twat juicy. Jennifer watched wide-eyed and drunk.
"Slip off her pants Jennifer," Miss Ross said.
With her pants off, Regina was completely naked from the waist down. She had neglected to wear panties that day as she usually did when she wore the sexy titillating pants.
Jennifer slid her hand inside Regina's opened shirt and felt the beautiful tits with their hard stone-like nipples. Regina's stiff little cherrystones felt as if they weighed at least a pound.
Regina was breathing thick and fast. Miss Ross was massaging her neck under the long flowing hair. Jennifer had removed Regina's shirt and was working out with her mouth on her friend's knobs of joy. The room was filled with heavy breathing and mouth-sucking noises.
As Jennifer fed on pleasure at Regina's paps, Miss Ross moved behind her and undid her pants. Her hands slipped expertly under the blonde girl's belt and felt the hanging belly and pubic hair. Forcefully she pulled the open pants down the legs of the preoccupied
Jennifer. She hardly even noticed the loss.
Jennifer removed her own blouse and bra while Miss Ross toyed with her private parts. In and out of her cunt and asshole she thrust her serpent finger. Jennifer's ass moved up and down in response to the attention.
Jennifer was deeply absorbed in kissing Regina's belly and cunt. She had her arms around her friend's middle. Her legs were extended along the couch as she lapped away. Miss Ross was savagely attacking Jennifer's damp bung hole and snatch.
Regina had her head back and was rolling it from side to side. The more Jennifer ate her out the more she groaned and rolled. Miss Ross was digging her fingernails into Millie's snatch in rhythm with the rolling.
All at once Miss Ross shoved the passionate pair onto the floor. They hit the floor and looked up startled. What they saw when they looked up was Miss Ross with a leather strap in her hand.
"My children, you are having so much fun," she said. "Don't stop now." She punctuated her remark with a resounding crack of the strap on the backside of Regina who was on top.
Regina let out a shriek and rolled off Jennifer. But Miss Ross gave her two more slashes across her tits. She froze on the floor.
"You thought you would trick me, didn't you?" she said. "Well, many have tried before and none have succeeded. Now you will really have to pay for your presumption."
With that she began slashing wildly at the two girls who were naked and defenseless on the floor. Their response to the blows was sheer terror. They huddled on the floor, cringing like cornered rats. They squealed and raised their hands in futile gestures of protection. Their boobs jiggled and their thighs quivered in fear.
Vicious welts appeared all over their bodies. They rolled on the floor in an effort to escape. They fell and tumbled over each other. But Miss Ross stood tall above them and cut off any possibility of escape. She seemed to be everywhere.
The toe of her boot caught Jennifer squarely in the snatch as she was spread-eagled on the floor. She doubled up and rolled on her side. His Ross used the opportunity to punish her backside.
Regina was weeping and panting. She lay on her back writhing from the blows.
"Roll on top of her," Miss Ross ordered Jennifer.
Jennifer lay lengthwise on top of the soft bed of flesh. She could feel the ripples and the moving muscularity of Regina. The hills and the valley which she had been devouring with her teeth and tongue so recently now excited her own loins.
Miss Ross brought the whip cruelly onto Jennifer's back.
"Move!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Jennifer complied with a roll of the hips which brought her patch of pubic hair down on Regina's nude pussy. Regina responded with a thrust of her hips. Jennifer's clit sent shock waves of pleasure to all corners of her body.
"Move!" shrieked Miss Ross.
Jennifer brought her hands up to the sides of Regina's breasts and began clawing like a she-devil at the Firm plastic orbs. Her ass wiggled in Miss Ross's face. Her back shook with pleasure.
Miss Ross sent the strap smashing and cutting again and again down on the writhing figure. Jennifer was going sweaty from the rubbing and beating. Her back began to tingle with the strap welts.
"Roll her over on her side," Miss Ross commanded.
Jennifer complied. She put her arms on Regina's backside and turned them over so their tender flanks were exposed to the cruel pounding of Miss Ross's strap.
The strap thrilled them to heights of passion. They clutched each other. They clawed the welts. They redoubled the pain inflicted by Miss Ross.
While the pair were so engrossed they hardly noticed Miss Ross slip on the rubber strips. The strips were self-adhesive and when fully tightened they could barely move. All they could do was heave against each other.
Once they were imprisoned Miss Ross's full fury came out. Her arm sliced the air. She drew blood with each strap lash. Regina and Jennifer sobbed into each other's necks. Their flesh muffled the screams.
In spite of the pain, each blow was laced with pleasure. Whether the strap hit Jennifer, Regina or both it always produced a spasm of delight. They thrust at each other. The hairless twat ground against Jennifer's beautiful tangle of aroma. Their bellies constricted and clutched in and out. The small hairs glistened with their sweat.
"You will eat shit before I'm done with you," keened Miss Ross. She brought the strap down on the thighs and ass cracks of both girls. Their legs fought each other's to escape the stinging strap.
Miss Ross reached down and tore the rubber strips from their interlocked bodies without loosening them. It felt as if she were tearing the first few layers of skin from the girls. They clutched spasm-like to each other.
When the strips were off they fell away from each other exhausted and sweaty. But Miss Ross gave them no rest. She brought the straps down on each one's exposed front. The snap on wet flesh was vicious-sounding.
"Eat her asshole!" Miss Ross ordered Regina.
Her eyes glazed, Regina rolled over and crowded on top of Jennifer. She stuck her head deep in her crack and began rooting about.
"That's not good enough," Miss Ross responded. "I want you to get down and eat shit. Raise your legs Jennifer-NOW!"
She punctuated this command with the strap on Jennifer's ass. The young blonde lifted her full shanks in the air exposing her dripping cunt and asshole to Regina's voracious mouth.
"That's better," Miss Ross said. "Now get to it. Ream her out good."
Regina stuck her long pointed tongue deep into Jennifer's yielding asshole. She tasted the funk and shit. She felt the muscle tighten around her probing straining tongue.
Miss Ross was whipping Regina's head and neck, driving it deeper and deeper into Jennifer's ass. Each slash brought her head convulsively down into the garden of smells and tastes. Her teeth dug into the flesh around Jennifer's hole.
Jennifer felt as if a huge animal were eating out her insides. The teeth and tongue made hr clutch her legs around Regina's head. The lash made her thrust her asshole higher into the devouring mouth.
Together they pulled and clutched. Deeper and deeper Regina dug into the rich mine of shit. She felt the membranes and the sour grainy taste of shit on her tongue. Each thrust of her mouth made a thrust in her loins. The experience was centered on each flash of the strap on her back.
It was as if the strap were driving her into the inside of Jennifer. Jennifer felt completely eaten out. The more Regina ate the more Jennifer writhed.
Their frenzy increased. Each moved their hands hysterically on their breasts and ass. They scratched and dug wherever they found a hold.
Miss Ross danced above them raising their passion higher and higher. They moved like machines of pleasure. In and in Regina drove till she reached the center of Jennifer's gut. There she spun her tongue and Jennifer exploded in a searing frenzy which dragged her and her friend to the heights of passion.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Regina vaguely remembered being dragged off the floor and carried into another room. Then everything went dark again. The next thing she felt was a needle going into her left arm at the elbow. She looked up and saw Morgan throwing away a spent syringe.
He looked down at her and scowled. His handsome face was distorted by the hate which filled it. Then things got very foggy. The minutes might have been hours or seconds. She could not tell if it were light or dark.
She felt herself being fitted into some kind of tight-fitting garment. It fit around her waist but did not cover her breasts. She could feel it being laced very tight in the back. It thrust her already large breasts up and made them look even more succulent.
She could hear arguing which seemed to come from way off in the distance.
"I don't think we should do it," she could hear a female voice saying. "The last time we did she almost died. Anyway, you never hooked up that many electrodes before."
"You're telling me what to do?" a male voice said. "This is my show and I run it the way I want. You big bitch, you wouldn't be anything if I hadn't taken you in. You ungrateful slut!"
Then there was silence for a long time. Slowly she came out of the fog again. This time it was the feel of round metal disks being attached to her which brought her around.
All over her tits someone was sticking these cold metal disks with vaseline-like goo. She felt the cold slippery goo harden as it dried on her swelling boobs. The feeling sent chills through her groggy body. The terror of the unknown mixed with the thrill of what might happen to her.
She shifted slightly in the chair and a hand came from out of the blackness and slapped her hard across the face. Startled, she jumped. It was then she realized her hands and feet were bound with straps to the chair she was in.
Only then did she think to look to see from where the slap had come. She saw Morgan standing next to some kind of machine. It looked like some kind of electrical therapy machine. It had wires leading from it. The wires connected to the discs which he was attaching to her flesh.
She quivered when he began attaching the discs to the lips of her cunt. The cold metal made those tender lips recoil and try to draw inward. But she could not escape. He rudely grabbed them between his strong fingers and attached the electrodes with the goo.
She tried to squirm but he grabbed one of her nipples between thumb and forefinger and gave a vicious twisting tug. It felt as if he would uproot her tender dug. She tried to bend forward with the tug. But he shot a hand to her neck and pinned her back in the chair. At the same time he never let go of her nipple.
She began to weep. He sneered at her and withdrew a long metal tube from a cabinet in back of the chair. The tube was about an inch in diameter and a foot long.
Paying no attention to her anguish he grabbed one of her thighs and inserted the tube up her snatch. She squirmed as it went in, trying to keep it from tearing her vulnerable interior. His smile grew the more it slid in. Finally there was only four inches left showing.
She felt a cold knife chilling her guts. Her cunt rippled around the frigid stranger in her loins. Her snatch could not thrust it out and could not welcome it in.
"So you think that our little school is something to trifle with," Morgan said. "I'd like to know if you think you can trifle with us after I'm through with you today. No one ever enjoyed this little torture."
He smiled a devilish smile and walked over to the machine where he adjusted a knob and pushed a button. A red light flashed on. She could hear a gentle humming.
"What voltage would your little pussy like to start at?" he said. "Not that you have anything to say about it, really. I'm your master now. There is no more escape or evasion. I will have my way."
He picked up a long, thin shaft. One end was covered with rubber, the other was bare metal. Morgan grasped it by the insulated end and walked slowly toward the pinned girl.
As he walked toward Regina, she felt her cunt congeal in excitement. Jennifer was right. There was no other experience which could compare to this one. No one had ever made her feel such terror. No one had ever given her such pleasure.
Ever so slowly, watching her face all the time, Morgan brought the electric rod closer and closer to the tube jammed up her snatch. She was so completely at his mercy. Her path of joy was open for his delectation.
Down, down came the rod. Regina's thighs twitched expectantly. She felt as if she were turned inside out. The wet membranes on her insides felt open and exposed to the world. She felt about to be raped by the entire cosmos.
These thoughts flitted through her mind like bats in a dark cave. Her excitement mounted. The moment of shock neared. She was thrilled to her marrow by the prospect of being so excruciatingly stimulated.
The rod in Morgan's hand was merely inches from the tube. She breathed in heavy pants. She felt like crying out, "Hurry!" But her tormentor was not to be hurried as he took his own sweet time about his torture. This time was sweet for Regina.
The rod was now only an inch from her snatch. It hovered above the tube like a bird ready to land. Where, she thought, will he touch the rod? What will it feel like when the feeling touches me?
Teasing her more and more, he moved his electrified stick back and forth above the four inches of exposed tube. Like he was coaxing come from her newly grown penis, he waved the air above the shining stick.
Then he brought the stick downward. Before it actually touched the tube in her twat, a spark leaped the gap and landed about midway up the tube.
Regina saw this. She smelled the ozone blue smell in the air. But most of all she felt it. She felt it as she had never felt anything ever before. Deep within, a burning buzzing feeling zapped her. It was a dying terrible feeling. At the same time it blasted her legs apart and sent her into agonies of pleasure.
"Now, my dear," Morgan said, "maybe you would like to feel my electric snatch shock again. It might put some sense into your pretty head."
Without saying anything else he inserted the shock stick up the open end of the tube. Inside the tube he jiggled it back and forth, touching the sides in an irregular rhythm.
"Dance, my little pussy! Dance!" he said.
Dance she did. Every time the stick touched the tube she twitched uncontrollably. The spasms seemed to be growing stronger and stronger. She bucked at the shoulders and knees. Her fingers jittered up and down. Inside her luscious love trap she was a boiling mass of juicy passion.
The pain was more than pain. To be laid open so bare was for her an exquisite pleasure. There was no escape from this fiendish-ingenious situation. But she did not mind. Every jolt sent her higher and higher into the realms of pleasure. She wished that she would never come down.
But Morgan had other plans for her. He reached back and turned up the voltage on the machine. Then he removed the stick from the tube and pulled the tube itself out.
That long shiny instrument was no longer brilliant. It was covered with love cream for eight of its twelve inches. It smelled strongly of Regina's musk.
He threw it on the floor and cursed her.
"You hot little bitch!" he screamed. "I bet you'd come if I cut off your tits. All the same, you fucking cunts!"
Regina's snatch was vibrating with the residue of feeling from the shock treatment. Her palms and forehead were beginning to sweat with fear. What would the monster do now? she thought. She did not have long to wait to find out.
Morgan lifted his heavy black leather boot and kicked her hard on the soft flesh inside her thigh. She groaned and parted her thighs. He could see the cream which had coated his tube-come flowing out her beautifully lipped cunt.
He gripped the torture stick tighter and shoved it far up her snatch. She sank down in the chair and bent her box upward to admit the dagger with less pain. But there was no avoiding the pain. For it was not the physical size or contours of it which gave it its excruciating properties.
The essence of the stick was agony. It was the molecules moving back and forth inside it that were the agents of pain. They were like so many ravenous and pitiless soldiers. Armed with bayonets they were ravaging the soft and pillowy flesh within. She felt like a country being raped and pillaged.
Morgan worked the electrified stick around inside her. She writhed and rolled about on its axis. It burned and charged her unmercifully. But she could not escape. Nor could she escape the oceans of come which the stick stimulated. It was ironic that this come served to bring her more pain.
The more she came the wetter she got. The wetter she was the more the electricity could torment her flesh. Her pain brought her pleasure. Her pleasure brought her more pain. She writhed on this horrible and exquisite situation for what seemed hours.
Lights went off in front of her eyes. She saw exploding stars. Her head was spinning. What stayed constant was the tearing terrible pain in her loins.
Her whole body heaved in the exertion. She longed to press it against something. She longed for that something to be even more painful than the vibrating stick stuck so centrally up her core.
All at once the agony was over.
She looked up and saw Morgan standing at the machine smiling a smile more devilish than any she had ever seen.
"Yes," he said, "for now that is over. But don't think you have gotten off with just that. There is much more to come."
At the word "come" he laughed loudly to himself and came over to Regina.
"I'm going to leave that up there to remind you how much you are at my mercy. If you do anything which displeases me all I have to do is flick that switch and you will feel my power. Do you understand?"
She looked at him groggily and nodded. But really she understood even less than she had the day before. Hadn't she come here to avenge herself on them? she thought. How had she ended up so impaled and so humiliated?
She felt like a prisoner of her own desire. For she was writhing with pleasured agony at his every whim. She felt like a slave. Even the very thought of being his slave gave her a thrill. Was there no escape for her? she wondered.
Morgan came over and grabbed the now uncharged stick stuck up her cunt. He became thoughtful, playing with it. He thrust it back and forth inside her. He muttered to himself as he played.
"In and out," he said. "In and out. Back and forth. I love to play inside you, dear. Do you know I could hurt you? What if I should slip and push this all the way through you now? How would that feel?"
The words more than his actions chilled her bones. She thought of the sharp point of the rod of torture piercing her delicate internal organs. She pictured the pain and the blood. But yet she could not help the feeling of joy at being so helpless.
"You long for this," he said. "I can tell. I can see it in your eyes. You bitchy cunts all want to be disciplined. There is no getting away from it. You love it."
There was no denying that Regina loved the diddling she was getting. But as he played he dug deeper and deeper. He pressed hard against her organs and passageways. She groaned and squirmed in real discomfort.
"Oh, I see that I've stuck a tender spot," he said with delight. "I will have to pursue this further." He punctuated this by thrusting the sharp rod up higher into her snatch. She felt a sharp sticking and a melting way up inside her abdomen.
He quickly withdrew the rod. Its tip and shaft were pink and white with come and blood. He brought it to her nose and thrust it up close.
"Lick it off," he said.
When she hesitated he' slapped her hard across the face and grabbed her by the jaw. He forced her mouth open and shoved the stick way down her throat.
"Suck on it," he said. "Suck all the juice off it. I want my toy back nice and clean. No shit or come on it. Suck it hard."
Regina's cheeks closed in on the stick under his command. She had no choice but to obey. She tasted the sweet and pungent aroma of the blood and her cunt juice. It tasted good going down.
He jammed the stick further down her throat until she gagged. She tried to lick and suck but could not. The stick was much too far down and she began to gag on it. She felt her vomit rising in her throat. She knew any second she would be sick. Inside she was swirling with a mass of choked up intense feeling. She felt nauseous and hot. She smoked inside with passion and pain.
Just as quickly as he had thrust it in, Morgan withdrew the stick. Regina breathed a relieved sigh. Her whole body relaxed. She was allowed a moment's rest while Morgan had his back turned playing with the diabolical machine. But the rest did not last long.
He turned again and faced her. In one hand was a black jar of the goo he had used to attach some of the electrodes to her body. In his other hand were about a dozen more electrode discs.
"You are going to make history, my dear," he said. "I have never tried so many electrodes before. You will be the first to try out the maximum capacity of my machine. Perhaps you will be happy to know this."
Regina did not feel happy at all. She felt sick and her whole body ached. She could feel a cold clammy feeling stealing over her body. Her passion was waning and was being replaced by fatigue and pain.
"I will proceed forthwith," he said, dramatically. "There is no sense in dawdling. You have only to sit back and react, my little Regina. Your big tits and luscious cunt will do the rest."
Regina did not like what she thought he had in mind. It had become clearer to her during this session that Morgan intended to conduct some kind of torture session. It occurred to her that maybe he fancied himself some kind of interrogator. She trembled at the thought. She wondered what kind of information he was going to try to elicit from her.
Carefully he attached the electrodes to her body with the goo. It was a strange concoction which went on very smooth and liquid-like. But when it touched the air it began to harden to a thick sticky paste. The electrodes were very firmly attached all over her body. He paid special attention to her nipples.
Very carefully he smeared them with the goo and let it harden slightly before he stuck on the electrodes. Her much abused little boobs became stiff and hard under his fingers. She ached to have them squeezed hard. But he merely stuck on the specially shaped discs and made sure they were firm.
All over her firm torso he attached the devilish devices. She felt as if she had tubes growing from her body. As the goo began to harden her skin was stretched and pulled. The mild discomfort in their placement prophesied much pain in their use.
He then went lower down and placed the electrodes on the lips of her cunt. Her much-abused cunt was about to be delivered another torture. When he had finished she was covered with the electrodes.
"I'm finished now," he said. "Won't you sit and be patient, my dear? I'd like to get you an audience. I think there is someone who would like to watch."
He walked quickly out of the room and returned a moment later with Miss Ross. Regina gasped. She felt so confused about this woman.
She liked her for her warmth and natural friendliness. But she hated her for having tricked them. She felt used and angry. She felt hurt.
But there the woman stood about to watch her being tortured cruelly. How could she stand by and do nothing? But maybe her friendliness had all been an act to seduce them into submission. Regina did not know.
"I told you she would enjoy this, Miss Ross," he said to his assistant. "There is nothing like a little stimulation to pick up anyone's day. I think you will especially like it when I put the juice to her genitals. Her own juice and my juice will mix. How grand that will be!"
Miss Ross looked very ambivalent. There was , a gleam of expectation in her eyes. She coulcf not help but be excited about the prospect of pain. She licked her lips and shifted her weight back and forth from one beautiful leg to the other.
However, she did not like to see Regina tortured this way. Morgan's machine was the work of a monstrous genius. It was designed to administer the maximum pain. He could adjust it so as to create any desired effect. The victim was totally at his cruel mercy.
But she really had no say about the matter. Deep down she feared the same fate for herself if she protested. That had befallen another assistant Morgan had had a while back. She had balked at administering a particular nasty beating to a very young girl.
This girl was bound wrist to ankle in such a manner that her young cunt and budding breasts were exposed to the full fury of his blows. She screamed and cried. The bonds seemed to be too tight. Her limbs were twisted in unnatural positions and her extremities were turning blue.
The young assistant had protested but Morgan had ignored her. The assistant continued objecting and finally Morgan turned on her. With the deadly bullwhip he had been using on the little girl he slashed the clothes from the nubile young lady. When her clothes were reduced to rags he continued slashing until she was covered with raw and bleeding gullies. Morgan almost killed the young woman.
After that he was a little more careful how far he went with his beatings. He was also a lot more careful who he allowed to assist him. He thought Miss Ross was reliable without question. But it seemed that these two beautiful young women had stirred something inside of her which made her act in a way unlike her usual behavior.
Usually the lust for pain and punishment was enough to easily overcome any feeling. Her mouth would water and her eyes glisten at such prospects. Her loyalty did not have to be doubted when he was providing a place in which she could obtain the kind of thrills she wanted.
But this curvaceous long-haired girl so helplessly strapped in the chair had upset everything. Now Miss Ross wanted to step back from the edges of pain. She did not take full-hearted delight in the punishing and beating of her young flesh.
Her feelings were approaching theirs just as theirs were approaching hers. Of course when she was aroused nothing could stand in her way. Her lust to satisfy her urges was unquenchable. But now with these two it took more to arouse her lust. It was as if she were resisting the demon inside herself just as Regina and Jennifer were.
But Miss Ross had thought better of any further protest and just listened mutely to Morgan. She, too, could not help but be excited by the prospect of pain more excruciating than any they had visited on another human being.
"You can watch her writhe and dance when I turn on the electricity," he said. "Won't she be a sight, twisting and jiggling those tits? Can't you just imagine those full budding cuntlips palpitating with the pain?"
He walked over to the machine and placed his hand on one of the dials.
"Which part shall we start with, Miss Ross?" he said. 'The tits first, or the crotch?"
"I don't care," said the young woman.
"I wonder if Regina cares?" he said, turning to the brutally restrained young lady. "Which part would you like to start on, my little bitch in heat?" he said.
Regina could only stare at him in horror. She was breathing through her mouth. She stared bug-eyed at him.
"I guess it doesn't matter," he said. "We'll get to everything sooner or later."
With that, he flicked a few switches in a long row of toggle switches. Then he flicked a big black switch. A red light flashed on.
"We're all ready," he said. "I think I'll give you a taste of the treatment all at once. Then we can go slowly."
With his right hand he twisted the big black knob all the way around and held it there for about five seconds. All the while he was staring into Regina's face. Then he quickly brought it back to zero.
Those five seconds felt like the longest of Regina's life. He had connected a few electrodes in each sector of her body. A few were connected on her tits, a few on her stomach, and one in her cunt.
The goo seemed to magnify the pain of the electricity. It was more than a vibrating shock. There was also a burning and a sticking. She could not breathe. Her diaphragm was paralyzed. She felt as if she would die.
She was in a spasm of horrible pain. Her cunt felt as if someone were searing it with acid. Her tits felt as if they would be burned off. She looked down in a reflex to see if there was smoke coming from her tormented body.
"Burn, you bitch!" Morgan said. "I hope you burn your snatch right off!"
She rolled her head in agony and screamed for him to let her go. Then she screamed to Miss Ross for help. But neither would help her.
Morgan was standing with his hand on the machine with an intense and demonic look of joy. Miss Ross was gazing as if in a trance at the beautiful body glistening with the goo. The torture was her turn-on. She saw the wires and imagined the shock. It stirred her deep inside. She put her hand in her crotch and began rubbing violently on her clit.
At last the five seconds were over. Morgan shut off the current and Regina's stiffened body relaxed. She was still twitching. Miss Ross came up to her and pinched the skin between the electrodes. She felt her steaming and vibrating cunt with a practiced hand.
"You little bitch," she said, "you need more torture. You need to be shown that we mean pain. We will not let you escape."
So saying, Miss Ross went over to the machine and flipped all the toggle switches connected to Regina's boobs. Then she turned back to Regina.
"You like the whip, don't you?" she said. "Well, you ought to like this ten times more. It will stir you inside until you don't know what to do. It will burn your flesh till you have orgasms in every part of your body. My dear, you will be our slave forever. You cannot escape us now. There is only one thing to do. Surrender."
Regina heard this and felt like crying. But something kept her from giving in to the impulse. She would be strong, she thought. If she ever wanted to escape, now was the time to sow the seeds of it. Now was the time to fight it.
She had a double fight. She had to fight the pain of torture. She also had to fight the pleasure of torture. Her double struggle was doubly dangerous.
"Admit that you came here to turn on us," Morgan said unexpectedly. "Admit that you were going to try to torture us. We know you were plotting. It will do no harm to admit it. In fact, it will save you a lot of pain and suffering.
"Since I know it already I will not hold it against you. But if you do not admit it I will torment you until you do. Why don't you admit it?"
Regina had a terrible urge to blurt out the whole story. She wanted to tell them the plan to overpower both of them and subject them to what each of the girls had been through.
But she fought the urge. A part of her wanted to surrender and a part of her wanted to fight back.
Slap! Miss Ross hit Regina full force on the face with her open hand. The sting was terrific and Regina's head swam with the pain.
"Now, maybe, Miss Stinkshit, you will tell us what we want to know," Miss Ross said.
But Regina bit down hard on her tongue and refused to speak.
Morgan came up and put the long sharp heel of his boot into the mouth of her snatch.
"If you don't want to be ripped to shreds you better tell us," he said. "The heels of these shoes have razor blades in them."
Regina went cold with terror. She could feel the slim icy feel of the razor blades on the super-tender inner lips of her cunt. She tried to pull those lips away. But there was no escape. He pressed the heel further and further into the soft passageway.
"Once again, Regina dear," he said. "Admit to me that you were plotting against us."
Regina shook her head as tears came to her eyes.
"Can't you feel the edges of the blades as I start to twist them inside you?" he said.
Yes! She could feel the sharp pain as he twisted and pressed the diabolical heels into the folds of flesh. It cut like bloody cheese. She felt the warm red liquid trickle from her opening down her backside. She was sitting in a puddle of blood.
"More, more," Miss Ross was encouraging him. "Stick it in further. Harder. I want to see her crawl and whine."
Regina gritted her teeth and strained her head back against the chair. Then she passed out.
The next thing she knew was a splash of cold water on her face.
"Wake up, cunt face," Miss Ross shouted. "The party has just begun!"
In one bound she was over by the machine. With a joyous swoop of her arm she grabbed the big black knob and turned it.
Regina felt a tingling grow in her breasts. The tingling turned to a tearing and then to a shrieking pain. She strained her shoulders back, thrusting out her enormous and tender mammaries.
"No, please!" she groaned. "Stop, it hurts too much. Please!"
'Tell us you didn't come here to turn on us, and we'll turn it off," Morgan shouted. "Tell us, you cunt!"
Regina did not know what to do. The pain in her breasts was agony. She felt as if they were being burned from her body. Yet she feared even in her pain what might happen to herself and Jennifer if she admitted that they had come to "Lookswell" that day to avenge their torture.
"More power," Morgan said to Miss Ross. "We'll make her talk. Well rip those pretty boobs right from their sockets if we have to. Give her the whole works!"
In obedience to his commands Miss Ross threw all the toggle switches. This sent a cascade of power through the wires. All the electrodes were charged.
In her loins, in her flanks, and in her tits Regina felt a tingling and burning which shook her to the core. She cried and screamed. She could hear herself screaming as if it were someone else being tortured.
The pain built up and up in mountains of agony. She was being buried underneath. Nothing mattered. Only the burning, beating, horribly vibrating feeling in her body mattered. She had to stop it.
"Yes! Yes!" she howled. "We came here to get you. Now stop it! Please, I'll go away, just stop it!"
"You piece of shit!" Miss Ross bellowed as she spit in Regina's face. "You thought you could trick us! You asshole licking bitch! You'll see what that will get you!"
Miss Ross ran over to the machine and reached for an emergency switch. She grabbed it and pulled it down.
Regina felt as if an explosion was going off in her body. Her bowels heaved and she strained against the bonds on her hands and feet. Her body became one searing ball of pain. Inside and out had no meaning as the hot electrodes turned her into one writhing mass of agony and she passed out.
CHAPTER NINE
For a long time there was nothing. Then there was the slow beat of her heart and lungs. Jennifer found herself bound up tightly and stuffed in some kind of bin.
The drug Miss Ross had shot her with made her limbs weak. She could hardly feel them. She was cramped up in the stuffy airless coffin, bound like a calf for branding.
How the fuck am I going to get out of here, she wondered to herself. I can't move a muscle.
Suddenly there was light above her. In that suddenly light opening was a little girl of about ten years old. The little girl jumped down into the bin and began cutting the ropes and tape which Jennifer was bound with.
"You must be Regina's friend," the little girl said. "I'm Mary. I saw them put you in here. I don't think that was a very nice thing to do. Anyway, you have to get out and help Regina. They are torturing her. I am afraid they will hurt her."
By this time Jennifer was almost untied and she helped with the rest of the job.
"Are you Morgan's niece?" Jennifer asked her.
"Yes. I live here with him," she said.
Jennifer was free. She got up slowly on her still cramped legs and peered out of the top of the bin. She was in the basement over behind the boiler. She could see the basement room where they must be torturing Regina.
Jennifer looked down at herself and realized she was naked. I can't fight against them like this, she thought.
"Mary, can you get me something to wear?" she said.
"Sure, I'll be back right away."
She was back in a few minutes with a pair of black leather pants and a white smock. She also gave Jennifer a pair of boots.
"What are those for?" Jennifer said, pointing to an extra set of clothes.
"That's for Regina," Mary said.
"Good idea, Mary," she said. "Quick, help me get dressed!"
With Mary's help Jennifer got dressed in a flash. Then the two climbed quietly over the top of the bin and crept toward the door of the torture room.
From behind the door they could hear a strange humming. There was a babble of voices. Jennifer recognized Morgan's sneering tones.
"She's passed out again," he said. 'This bitch is just too much of a coward. I told you not to pull the emergency switch. You might have killed her with that power."
"Did you hear what she said?" Miss Ross shot back. "She said they were planning on tricking us. They really were plotting to get back at us!"
"Don't get yourself all worked up," he said. "They're not going to bother us at all. When we get through with Regina and Jennifer out there, they'll be our slaves forever."
Outside the door Mary turned to Jennifer with wide eyes.
"You better be careful," she whispered in terror. "I think they killed someone last year. I don't know because they kept me out of the way. But there was a beautiful girl here all the time for a while and then she disappeared."
Inside, Morgan was saying to Miss Ross, "Go get some more water and splash it on her again. This time we'll try to keep her awake."
They heard a splash. Then there was another murmur of voices.
"Shit, she's out like a light," Morgan said. "I'll have to go upstairs and get another shot. Wait down here while I go get it."
Mary and Jennifer dove behind a pile of newspapers as Morgan opened the door. He stepped out and closed it. He stood there as if listening for almost ten seconds. Then, shaking his head, he went upstairs.
Both the woman and the girl let out sighs when he was gone.
"Come on," Jennifer said. "Let's get in there and take care of Miss Ross."
They crept up to the door. Jennifer put her mouth to Mary's ear.
"You walk in like you are on an errand and get me the strap from behind the chair," she whispered. "Don't say anything to Regina. Just being it back to me. Okay?"
Mary nodded and opened the door. Jennifer could see Miss Ross standing over Regina's unconscious form. Her arms were on her hips.
Mary closed the door behind her and went over to the back of the chair.
"What do you want in here?" Miss Ross said the instant she saw the little girl. "You're not supposed to be down here."
"Mr. Morgan sent me down here to get something for him," she said.
Before Miss Ross could protest, Mary reached into the back of the barber's chair and took out a long leather strap. She rolled it up and walked out the door.
"Beautiful," Jennifer said when she saw the little girl with the strap. "Now we are going to take care of business. Can you go upstairs and keep Morgan from coming down for about fifteen minutes?"
The little girl nodded and ran upstairs. Jennifer stood in the dim basement looking at the strap in her hand. Now she would have a chance to pay back with interest all the humiliation she had suffered at the hands of these two. Now Regina was going to get a chance, too.
Very quietly she opened the door and stepped inside. Miss Ross was standing with her back to Jennifer. She was completely absorbed in watching the unconscious Regina and she did not even hear Jennifer as she crept forward.
Jennifer picked up a mallet from the display of torture instruments. She could feel its weight in her hand. The heavy metal head felt deadly.
She hefted it up and down as she advanced on the unsuspecting Miss Ross. Carefully she raised it over her head. The tight smock she wore strained around her heavy breasts. All at once she sent the mallet crashing down on Miss Ross's head.
The woman crumpled to the floor without a sound. She twitched and then lay still. Jennifer rolled her over with her foot and saw she was out cold.
Jennifer quickly went over and shook her friend. Slowly Regina began to wake up. She shook her head and blinked her eyes. She looked around in surprise and then half-smiled when she recognized Jennifer.
"What happened?" she asked.
"You were really out," Jennifer said. "But it's okay now. I knocked out Miss Ross and Morgan's upstairs. Quick, put these on!"
So saying, Jennifer pulled the electrodes from Regina and released the straps which held her down. Where the electrodes had been were ugly red marks. Her torso was covered with them. But Regina ignored them in her excitement. She quickly put on the extra pair of leather pants and boots. Then she slipped on the tight smock similar to the one Jennifer wore. With no bra on, her nipples were clearly visible through the thin material. They stood out like sentinels signaling her great excitement.
"Now we're going to get back at them," Jennifer said. "Did they hurt you very much, Regina?"
"Yes, the shocks were horrible. I passed out twice. That's why Morgan went upstairs. I think he went to get something to keep me from passing out again. That would have been awful!"
"It's all right now," Jennifer said, putting her arm around Regina's shoulder. "They can't hurt us any more."
They both stood looking down at Miss Ross unconscious on the floor. She was breathing peacefully. It went through both girls' minds that they had a lot of love for this woman mixed up with all their hate.
"I'm going to go upstairs and take care of Morgan," Jennifer said. "You can have Miss Ross all to yourself. I'll meet you back at the apartment when it's all over. Good luck." She embraced Regina and kissed her. Then she turned quickly and went upstairs, carrying the heavy mallet.
Regina stood there silently for a minute after Jennifer went upstairs. Then she knelt down and began undressing Miss Ross. She took off her white uniform by unbuttoning it down the front. She slid it off the beautiful full-bodied woman.
Then she unhooked the bra and took off the panties from the pungent quim.
When Miss Ross was completely naked on the floor, Regina stood up and gazed down at her. Her luscious long cunt hair made a shaggy rug between her legs. Her tits were mounds of solid flesh on her chest. Her neck beat in rhythm to the blood coursing through her veins.
Regina turned and opened one of the closets she had seen Miss Ross open during her previous torture. Inside she found some fishnet stockings and a provocative half-bra. She found something else.
Way back on a shelf in the closet, was the diabolical garment which Morgan had put around her loins when he pulled her pubic hair. It was the glass-embedded garter belt!
Regina's eyes widened in imagination of what this would do to Miss Ross's shapely hips and stomach.
Quickly she slid the garter belt up each one of the woman's legs. Carefully she pushed it over the widening thighs. She could see the glass begin to dig into the vulnerable flesh. Miss Ross's stomach heaved. She began to feel the pain.
Regina reached her goal. The belt was around Miss Ross's waist. Then she slid on each one of the stockings and fastened them to the straps hanging from the garter belt.
Each movement of the statuesque woman pulled the garter belt back and forth on her flesh. The glass dug and gouged. In her unconsciousness this made her writhe even more.
The writhing and gouging continued apace. More and more blood began to appear on her satiny flesh.
Regina bent down and fastened the half-bra around the woman's boobs. The bra was hardly adequate for the mountains of delightful flesh. It merely served to confine the lower reaches and cover the hard nipples. The upper portions were forced up and out of the bra, making them even more provocative than in their natural state.
When the dressing was complete, Regina picked her up and carried her over to the barber's chair in which she had been so recently tortured.
She set her down in the puddle of blood which had come from her own snatch. The blood squished up around Miss Ross's backside and dribbled down her legs. Then Regina bound her arms in the leather straps. There she sat, confined to the chair as Regina had been but a few minutes before.
Regina picked up the strap and wrapped one end around her left hand; she got a good tight grip on it and waved it in the air over her head. Then she advanced upon Miss Ross.
She stood tall and straight in front of her tormentor of the past. With the sharp heel of her boot she stamped on the hard floor. The nasty crack stirred Miss Ross. She rolled her head back and forth a few times.
Her head bobbed up and down but her eyes were still closed. Very slowly she picked up her head and opened her eyes.
"Where am I?" she said. "How did I get here? What's going on?"
Her eyes were wide with disbelief and fear. They grew even wider as she tried to raise her arms and found them bound to the arms of the chair.
She was incoherent. She turned her head wildly from side to side. Her long hair flew in a storm around her head. She strained and bucked. She kicked her legs but she could not break free from her bonds.
She looked up frantically at Regina.
"What are you doing?" she said. "Let me out of here! Are you crazy? You will be in big trouble if you don't. Let me up!"
But Regina just stared down at her with a sneer on her face. This powerful bullying woman was now at her feet. Her chest heaved up and down above the revealing bra. Sweat began to appear on her stomach and thighs.
Miss Ross began to cry. The tears rolled down her face and fell on her bare skin. She twisted her head from side to side and strained up and down in the chair. Her delectable lower belly heaved in and out.
But Regina was unmoved. How well she remembered when she had begged and pleaded for mercy at the hands of this woman. How well she remembered her pain at horrible tortures which Miss Ross delighted in inflicting. There would be no mercy now, she thought.
As the word mercy crossed her mind, a terrible rage burst from her heart and almost blinded her eyes. Her head grew instantly fevered and she felt as if she would explode.
She raised her arm in a tremendous arc and brought it crashing down on Miss Ross's face. The hand left an imprint of four fingers on Miss Ross's delicate cheek.
"That's just the beginning," Regina screamed. Indeed it was!
She stepped back from the confined figure and swung her strap-armed powerful arm up over her head. Then she brought it down on Miss Ross's exposed breast tops. Again and again she slashed the air and bit into her flesh with the strap. The stinging on Miss Ross's body became continuous. There was hardly any space between the blows.
Miss Ross had her eyes shut tight. She quivered at each blow. But deep inside she was knowing the pleasure she had for so long inflicted on others. Each blow stirred her deep in the bowels of her desire.
She thrust her hips up with each strap shot. She twisted her unconfined legs around in the chair as if begging for a lashing there. Or perhaps she imagined a more painful and horrible fate.
If in fact Miss Ross desired complete degradation she was not to be denied it by Regina. The young girl's fury was rising with each blow. Her arm became like an automaton raining blow after blow down on the agonized figure.
But Miss Ross' struggling had subsided. Her bucking had ceased and she now merely groaned and strained in the chair.
The garter belt was beginning to take its toll. There was blood all the way around her waist and over both hips and the gouges and cuts pulsed blood with every heartbeat. Every strap slash brought an even larger outpouring.
But Miss Ross was beginning to glow with the feeling of being beaten. She longed for Regina to revile her and mutilate her more. She longed for Regina to make her do the things which she made others do.
For so long she had thrilled at these tortures and now it was her turn to taste the sweet agony. There was no turning back now. Her pussy ached against the rough chair. Her desire swirled around in her hot insides.
As if Regina could sense Susan's growing need she redoubled her efforts. She began' beating her across her unprotected belly. The slashes caught Miss Ross unawares and cut her to the quick. Deep down they thrilled her. The strap found every sensitive spot around her forested pussy and punished it.
Regina was panting and slashing with revenge. She saw the pain on her former torturer's face and thrilled to see it there. It was sweet revenge indeed to return the lesson so painfully delivered by a former teacher.
Miss Ross was completely at her mercy now. She could do exactly as she pleased. The woman was lost in a frenzy of joy. She was oblivious to everything but the tormenting lash.
Seeing this, Regina loosened the straps around Miss Ross' arms. But the woman did not rise. She strained further back in her chair under the blows of agony.
"Stand on the chair," Regina ordered. Miss Ross, so long the commander, now obeyed meekly.
When Miss Ross was thus positioned high above her Regina swung the strap around and slashed at her legs. Very intensely she worked up the beautiful and quivering stems.
From the calves up to the knees Regina slashed. Each blow was a wicked whining affair which slashed around the back of the leg. The snap when it caught tight around the back of Miss Ross' leg sounded wicked.
The higher Regina worked the more Miss Ross clenched her teeth and shook. She began groaning deep in her throat when Regina reached the bottom of her thighs. The groans became more articulate pleading as Regina proceeded up and up.
"Please, Please!" she moaned. "Give it to me, give it to me good. Oh, yes! Give it to me like that."
Miss Ross' body movement encouraged Regina higher and higher. She rolled and thrust her hips under each blow. But in this dance Regina would not and could not stop. She went higher. She slashed across the luscious mid-section of Miss Ross' thighs.
She saw her shake and strain with the effort of maintaining her elevated position. There was agony in her labored breathing. There was joy and tight tension in her face. Slaver ran from one corner of her mouth. Her hands clawed at her own neck.
How can this joy be any greater, Miss Ross thought, as the strap flashed higher and higher. It's never been this good anytime, she thought. I don't ever want this to stop!
It continued. It seemed endless. The strap neared the dark passageway to delight. Miss Ross' breathing was harsh and rasping. She twisted her head back and forth as if straining it against some invisible web.
But there was no web except maybe one woven by herself.
Regina instantly shot another strap-flash to the tender thighs. There was no thrill she had ever experienced that could compare to this. Even the torture she had inflicted on all the others had never thrilled her like this. This was the ultimate.
Regina suddenly brought the strap around underhand and gave Miss Ross a sharp shot on her cunt lips. The thick hair absorbed most of the shock. All that reached the tender flesh beneath was a little snap.
But the little harbinger of things to come sent spirals of joy straight up her cunt to her tender organs deep within her.
"More, more!" she sobbed out. "Please, again and again!"
"You'll get more," Regina snapped. "You'll get more than you ever dreamed of. Spread your legs."
Miss Ross bent her knees slightly and opened her sweet joy lips to view. Between the tangles of hair on either side, Regina could see the soft and moist valley of desire.
Breaking out of her reverie Regina brought the strap around underhand again. This time she laid the stroke exactly in the slit. The sound was like that of slapping a raw steak.
The sting sent shafts of pain and pleasure all through Miss Ross' thighs and belly. She drew her breath in sharply and waited for the next blow.
Regina instantly shot another strap-flash to the tender slit. Faster and faster she beat. Miss Ross' hand convulsively clutched around her crotch.
"Don't be so disrespectful," she said. Susan opened her tender lips to the hail of blows.
She did not desire escape. She desired only the added pain upon pain. She wanted to be scourged and whipped until she could feel no pain. For even in that state she would thrill to the thrashing.
"Turn around," Regina said.
Miss Ross obeyed. She turned and exposed her beautiful backside to Regina. Regina could see between the legs the hanging hank of hair. She could see the blood all around the borders of the garter belt. She could see the heaving shoulders and clutching fingers.
"Bend over the back of the chair," Regina said. "I want to see how you like to be laid out and beaten. I want to see if you will writhe and strain when I lash you to the edge of consciousness."
Miss Ross knelt down and leaned over the back of the chair. In that position she was in a half squat with her head and tits hung over the back of the chair. Her legs quivered already from maintaining that position.
"I see you like it," Regina said, slashing once straight down her backbone.
Miss Ross quivered and shook her ass in Regina's face.
"Don't be so disrespectful," she said. "Sit still when I discipline you. You must learn to behave. How will we ever run a school if you don't learn to behave?" Regina concluded mockingly.
But the strokes she was giving to Miss Ross were not jests. They were passionate and angry slashes which made the victim feel like a helpless bare bone. But she was not a bone. She was a beautiful girl whose lovely back was being cut to shreds. The flesh which melted over her bones giving it a lovely contour was being slashed and cut in dozens of places.
So saying Regina grabbed Miss Ross violently by the curves of the fat and muscle presented an exquisite target. Back and forth she slashed the strap. She did not rest.
This whipping across her backside thrilled Miss Ross so her quim grew warm and wet. She could feel the juice come surging out onto the lips of her twat. She ached to have a painful hand on her tits. She died each time Regina slashed her with the strap across her backside.
She lifted her ass to every blow. As if it were crying to be punished it bobbed up and down. Her hips twisted back and forth exposing their sides to the fury of Regina's strap.
Regina began to curse and spit at Miss Ross. "You smelly-assholed bitch," she said, "do you think you are such hot shit? Do you think you can't be made to crawl? Do you think there is something so special about your tits or your asshole? Is your pussy made of gold? Let's find out!"
Regina rushed up behind the half-squatting Miss Ross and thrust her hand into the tangle of hair. Then she brutally pushed three fingers into her quim and grabbed the tender flesh within.
"It's not made of gold," Regina exclaimed in mock amazement. "I guess it's just like everyone else's. Well, Miss, I guess this calls for some kind of celebration."
So saying Regina grabbed Miss Ross violently by the arm and turned her around. Then she pulled her over sideways so she was lying curled up in a ball in the chair.
Miss Ross did not resist any of this. She felt like wet clay outside and cotton inside. Regina could do anything she wanted with her.
Then Regina pulled her shoulders and hair down so they were hanging off the chair. Miss Ross was on her back looking up at the ceiling.
Regina quickly fastened her wrists to the straps on the arms of the chair. Then she yanked her legs over the top of the chair so that the calves hung down over the back.
There was a piece of electrical cord lying on the floor. Jennifer picked it up and tied Miss Ross' legs together. Then she tied the bound limbs to the base of the chair. Miss Ross was bound on her back across the chair like she was on some sacrificial altar.
The blood rushed to her free-swinging head. It made her feel as if her head would stretch her neck to the breaking point and eventually fall off. Or perhaps, she thought, the veins in my neck will burst when she whips me. She pictured the spectacle in her mind. It stirred her deep in her loins to think of that.
But Regina did not give her long to think. She reached down and unhooked the skimpy bra which had confined her tits and unhooked the skimpy bra hiding her decorations.
Now, her tits were exposed.
The lovely pendulums swung free. Regina could see the less tanned underside. She saw faintly the blue veins which spread delicately under the skin.
She raised the whip and brought it down on the exposed and delicate sight of pleasure. Miss Ross tensed and then relaxed with the flush of pleasure which swept her along after the blow. She was on a sea of joy. Each blow was an ecstatic trip further and further out upon the waves.
Regina was beating her faster and faster now. Miss Ross' sweat was coating the strap making its blows even more savage. Her tits were crisscrossed with lines of rising pink flesh. The welts grew darker and darker the more Regina beat.
Regina could feel herself losing control. Her arm felt as if it whipped on its own. Her head felt as if it were spinning around and around on her neck.
"You fucking cunt-faced whore," she spat at Miss Ross. "I'll make you pay! I'll teach you what real discipline is. You've only just started to learn. Your lesson will be your pain."
Miss Ross was sliding down against the binding straps on her wrists. The pressure of the weight of her body was causing agonies there. She tilted her head back and stared up at Regina. But she could see only a figure stalking in black leather pants. It did not look like the girl who was so sweet and innocent the day she walked into the lobby of "Lookswell." It seemed a very long time since that day. But that was only a trick of the mind for it had been less than a week.
Miss Ross did not have long to look at Regina. The strap came down across her face and caught her with her eyes open. The pain was incredible. She felt the burning and stinging in her forehead and on the tender skin around the ball itself.
Regina beat and slashed her neck and tits. The tits wobbled and danced under this barrage. She cut the underside and slashed the nipples.
Miss Ross' neck was slashed and wound around with the strap. Its edge cut her brutally as Regina withdrew it from each stroke.
Miss Ross' breath came in labored pants. Her crotch felt a burning lust to be hurt. Her middle was a searing bonfire of turgid emotions.
"More, more, more,! " she cried in anguish. "Hurt me! Now."
"I will," said Regina.
"Oh, now please," Miss Ross begged. "Now!"
CHAPTER TEN
Very, very slowly Jennifer crept up the stairs. She did not want to be surprised and overpowered now. She had a goal and she wanted to attain it.
She opened the door from the basement and peered out. She did not see anyone. That was very peculiar for it was the middle of the day and ordinarily the shop and school would be very busy. But there was dead silence.
This made her apprehensive and twice as cautious. She weighed the mallet in her hand as if to reassure herself of its potency. It still felt capable of crushing a skull.
Stealthily she crept out into the main room. She still saw no one. Then she heard the sound of jars and bottles being moved about in one of the little rooms off the large main room.
Carefully she put her ear to the door and held her breath. Inside she heard Morgan muttering to himself.
"Fucking cunt keeps passing out," he said. "This ought to keep her awake for days."
He laughed to himself. Then there was more clinking behind the closed door. The noise suddenly stopped and Jennifer jumped back from the door. She hid herself behind a couch near the door and waited.
Morgan came out holding two little vials in one hand and a syringe in the other. He paused and shut the door behind him. He moved toward the basement door. But before he reached it Jennifer was right behind him.
She swung the mallet and gave him a moderate blow right above the ear. He went down like a felled ox. She stood over him and grinned. How tough are you now, big stuff, she thought to herself. You can dish it out but I don't think you can take it.
She grabbed him by the armpits and dragged him back into the room he had just come out of. Over in the corner she saw a big hard-looking chair. She stripped off Morgan's boots, shirts and pants. He was wearing nothing underneath but a jock strap.
She gazed at his muscular physique and large scrotum. She could see the latter throbbing under the knit of the jock strap.
She pulled him over to the chair and dragged him up into it. He sagged to one side. She had to prop him up while she fumbled with the strap on each arm of the chair.
She got his arms in place and tightened the straps as tight as they would go. Then she tightened them some more for all the torture he had put her through.
She strapped his feet and made sure all was secure. Then she went out in the hall and picked up the syringe and vial he had dropped when she slugged him. She brought them back into the room and inserted the needle in the rubber top of the vial.
She watched, fascinated, as the liquid was sucked into the syringe. Then she withdrew the needle and stood in front of Morgan wondering where to stick it in.
She thought of his cock and his asshole. She considered his stomach or his neck. Finally she decided on the underside of his dick, right down at the base.
She pulled the jock strap away from his cock and balls. She reached down and pulled out his long schlong. It was warm and steamy in her hand. She gave it a few painful tugs and it began to expand and extend. As it quivered upward she grabbed it by the tip and bent it all the way back to his stomach.
She held on tight and pushed the needle in right where the sac met the dick. There was not a quiver from Morgan. She pushed the plunger down on the syringe and forced the liquid into his cock.
Then she quickly withdrew and waited for a reaction.
Soon Morgan began to move around. He shifted in the chair and suddenly opened his eyes. He was wide awake.
He looked up at Jennifer and down at his strapped arms and legs. He did not even bother to ask what was going on. He could tell from his position and the look on Jennifer's face what was going on.
"It looks like the tables are turned now," he said. "What do you intend to do with your new-found power?"
Jennifer said nothing. She brought the four-inch long heel of her shoe up to his balls and thrust it painfully in. He groaned and turned pale with the pain. The excruciating ache grew upward into his guts. His head spun painfully and his gorge rose.
"You want to know what I'm going to do?" Jennifer said. "Just watch."
She bent down and put her mouth on one of his defenseless nipples. She swirled her tongue around for a second to tease him. Then she nipped the tip savagely.
He bucked and tried to tear his offended tit away from her. But she opened her mouth and bit off a larger chunk. She sank her teeth down into the skin and muscle. He shook but could not shake her off.
She shook his breast back and forth like a cat killing a mouse. He could not bear the pain. He felt as if she would bite his whole nipple off.
He groaned and pleaded. Finally she backed off and spat in his face. Then she spat on his wounded tit. Her spit stung like iodine. She shook her head and laughed at him.
"You are a shit-eating cock-sucker," she said, "and I'm going to treat you like one."
From out of the back of the chair she pulled a straight razor. She opened it and held it up to the light. She went over to the side of the chair and stropped it vigorously. Then she reached down and pulled one of the hairs from Morgan's stomach to test the blade. It was very sharp.
"Now Mr. Morgan, you can begin by kissing my ass," she said.
She turned and opened the tight clips on the leather pants she was wearing. As she opened it more it became obvious she was wearing nothing underneath. She pulled the pants down further and backed up toward her captive.
She bent double in front of the chair and looked at him through her legs.
"Now ream me out," she commanded. To emphasize she flashed the blade between her thighs at Morgan's vulnerable scrotum.
He bent forward straining against the bonds. She leaned back and thrust her asshole into his face.
"Dig in boy," she said, "I want a clean job."
Morgan began reaming her out with his tongue. Into the smelly crack he pushed his nose. She strained her asshole outward to expose as much filth as possible.
While he ate away she toyed with the open razor on his thighs. Deeper and deeper she scratched. He tensed at the pain but continued to eat away.
"If you don't want me to cut deeper, keep eating," she said. "I'd love to slice your balls off. You wouldn't want to give me an excuse now, would you?"
She reached up through her legs with the razor and slashed at his chest. He groaned in pain and pulled away from her crack.
She pulled up her pants and turned around savagely.
"You've had it big stuff," she said. "Now you'll find out that I mean business. There is only one way to teach you a lesson."
With that she took an electrical extension cord from one of the hair dryers and looped it around Morgan's neck. She grabbed both ends firmly and yanked hard.
He felt the blood rush to his brain. He felt his air being choked off. He began to black out. But she squeezed remorselessly. He felt as if his head were being popped like a pimple.
She gave one last pull and looped it a few more times around his neck. Then she secured it down to the base of the chair.
His head and neck were strained back against the chair. His whole body was pinned by the terrible restraint around his neck.
Then Jennifer stood in front of the man who had thrown so much fear into her. A sadistic smile played on her lips. She tilted her head back and regarded him as if she were going to laugh.
But instead she removed another extension cord from the nearest hair dryer. She laid that on the floor by his feet. Then she stood up and grabbed the pouch of sex between his legs.
"This won't hurt a bit," she said. "I'll be very careful." In a flash the blade was slicing the jock strap right down the middle.
He could feel the blade skim along the upper surface of his semi-erect organ. He imagined the blade slicing deeper. He thought of the clotted blood spurting from the honeycomb within his cock. But she merely sliced an ever so shallow scratch down its length.
Then she attacked the remains of the jock strap and slashed it off his body. He was naked to her every whim. She weighed his balls in her hand and delicately played the blade over their surfaces.
"I could go deeper," she said, pressing just a little harder on the agonizingly exposed sacs.
She dropped them and stood up without another word. She picked up the extension cord and wrapped it three times about the base of his cock. It was tight enough to make his organ stand up even more.
Then she wrapped the cord around the hanging balls close to the base of his prick. Tighter and tighter she wrapped them until he felt as if his whole breath were being crushed out of him.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" she said. "It hurts just like having a comb up your asshole."
He rocked his head back and forth as he became dizzy. The room rocked and tilted at crazy angles. He saw shooting colors and lights.
Jennifer knotted the cord around his balls and tied the end around the bottom of the chair. The tension was so great that the least movement by Morgan stretched his seed sac in agony. But he could not help but move when Jennifer began her final round of tortures.
"When I say jump, I want you to jump," she said. At the word "jump" she jabbed his well-muscled abdomen with the sharp point of the razor.
"Do you get my point?" she said.
She jabbed him viciously below the bellybutton. He tried to draw his gut in but to no avail. She pressed in until he felt as if she were piercing down to his intestine. He jumped up trying to pull away from the blade and firecrackers exploded in his head.
For a spit second he must have passed out. When he came to she had removed the blade from his gut. His balls were aching from the yank he had given them. He longed to double over. But he could not move even an inch forward because of the cord around his neck.
He panted in short breaths. Even his breathing stretched his body upward and strained his agonized balls. He tried to be still. But she would not let him be still.
She knelt between his legs pointing the blade up his crack. She traced a design in the tense flesh below his balls. She jabbed him testily seeing how much he would jump with each poke.
He was in constant agony. Yet he could feel his cock stiffening. Every poke brought a jump and each jump brought an agony of pain and pleasure. The stimulation was more intense than any he had ever had. The tearing and pulling took his breath away. The tight choking bands sent his blood boiling. There was no ceiling to the height of his passion.
"I want you to hurt," Jennifer said. "I want you to hurt the way you hurt me. I want you to hurt until you crawl and beg for mrcy."
The point of the razor found the opening to his ass and pushed inside. He felt the razor as a cold steel chill up his guts. He shivered all the way up through his shoulders and back down to his thighs.
She twisted the flat blade inside his asshole. He felt the sharp edges scraping the tender flesh. He felt the warm blood and shit oozing out the abused opening.
He felt more excited than before. He panted in and out. He longed to be pierced and abused. He wanted her to curse and revile him.
He wanted the binds tighter and tighter. He never wanted them to be loosened.
Deeper and harder she dug in his fleshy hole. She could feel the drip of blood down the handle of the blade. His groans excited her. She thrust again and again.
"Come on, come on," he said. "Do it. Do it to me! I can't stand it. Please. More. More!"
She answered him with another thrust of the razor. She pressed her leather covered cunt upon his knee. He felt the hot lips even through the stiff leather. She bucked up and down as she dug deeper and deeper in the juicy hole.
With her free hand she clawed at his chest and stomach. Her long fingernails drew blood under his thick hah. The hah was pressed down into the gashes and made them more painful.
Higher and higher she probed in his dark asshole. He felt more opened than he had ever felt. His member began to grow turgid with excitement. He panted and rolled against the thrusts.
She probed and poked until she was almost touching his prostate. He quivered on the edge of an explosion.
"Does it hurt?" she said. "Tell me it hurts!"
He could not even speak. He was delirious with the passion of her clawing fingernails and thrusting blade. There was no escape. He did not want any. He surrendered himself to the abuse of this woman whom he had so recently abused.
All at once she struck it. The tip caressed the tender gland. He felt himself quiver. In a flash she withdrew the silver blade and replaced it with her long practiced finger.
In and higher she thrust it. Again he felt his gland touched. This time it was the tip of her fingernail which sent him orbiting into ecstasy.
With the blade she teased the four inches of cock not covered by the electrical cord. Firmly she pressed the blade down along its length and stroked the quivering shaft.
He was going out of his mind with the passionate frenzy. He bucked against the binds around his neck and ball. The pain this produced sent him into a frenzy which redoubled itself with the pain.
She dug deeper and deeper into the skin of his long cock. Simultaneously she thrust her fingernail deep into his gland and held it there.
He writhed as if impaled on a stake. She had him pinned by the heart of his desire. She held perfectly motionless while he spun around her coaxing pain like a moth around the light.
Suddenly he felt a rumbling deep in his crotch. She poked him harder and harder up the ass. Her blade sent ripples of pain over and over again up his loins.
He felt the pulsing come deep within him. From far away he heard himself scream in agony. The pain became pleasure, became pain. Jennifer tortured him to an agonized frenzy and he starting coming.
His agonizing orgasm spurted out of his beaten cock. "I'm coming now," he groaned.
"I don't give a shit," she blasted, tightening the cord around his balls. The pain was ripping agony. His face contorted as he let out one last inaudible groan: the last of his come spurting from his beaten penis. He now hung unconscious. Jennifer smiled.
Regina rushed into the room. "I just finished, Ross. Now what the hell are we going to do about these jerks?" she said.
