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 Per Subiugum Libertas (Mf cons)
Disclaimer: This story contains graphic sex should not be

   read if such stories are illegal in your state, or if you are a minor.

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   Per Subiugum Libertas (Mf cons)





   And then it happened.  The pain - from her nipples crushed by the
clamps, from her uncomfortable position with her head pulled back and her
leg muscles near cramping, from her ass where the pingpong paddle crashed
so rapidly that it felt like a single continuous blow - the pain combined
with the insistent buzzing in her pussy, with the rough manipulations of
her clit and labia by hands as concerned with her pain as with her
pleasure, and the world exploded.  Suddenly, pain and pleasure became
indistinguishable, and she was floating on a far-off ocean of abstract
sensation, feeling as if listening to muted sounds coming from another
room, freed from all responsibility by total lack of control.  Everything
flowed through her, moved past her, and she was passive - just a wire in a
great circuit, a channel in a river of sensation.  Her gagged screams and
wild, animal bucking slowly subsided, and I could see a great peace come
over her as everything which had been straining began to relax.  I began
unknotting the ropes.

   ***

   How did we happen to be in this place, doing this?  That, my friends, is
a story.  This story really more about Didi than me.  But let me begin at
the beginning...



   At the time, I was a young teacher at a co-ed boarding school.  I was
fresh from college, and teaching was something to try for a few years until
I found a real career.  My first year, I had taught Didi, when she was a
junior.  She was the older of two sisters, from a well-off family, slightly
spoiled.  At a public school, she might not have attracted much notice, but
at our small institution, she was on the high end of the scale, with small
breasts and an ass that couldn't decide if it belonged to a woman or a
girl. She was incredibly, tenaciously, stubborn and insistent, and prone to
throwing temper-tantrums when life had the nerve to cross her, although you
were never sure if it was entirely her fault, since there was a narrow
delicacy about her personality - like a teacup forever on the edge of a
table.

   She and I clashed often.  She would come stomping into my office, throw
down an assignment on which she'd performed poorly (or at least more poorly
than she thought she should have, since she was usually an A student), and
glare at me with hate-filled eyes, in which you could see a scheming
less-than-human determination to get her way.  When I refused to cave, as
was often the case since I rarely made grading mistakes, she would huff and
puff and sometimes cry, blaming me with all her soul for ruining her life
before she ran off to her boyfriend.  He was a smart, somewhat geeky
senior, for whom putting up with her shit was easily worth the sex.

   But our story really starts the next year, when she was a senior and he
was out of the picture, off at his Ivy League school.  I no longer taught
her, although she still stormed into my office on occasion to rail against
some other teacher who was ruining her life.  Without the support structure
of her boyfriend, she was a teacup even closer to the table edge.

   ***

   One day during the winter, Didi walks into my office, her arms folded,
and a determined look on her face.  This usually meant that she was going
to try to persuade me to do something, since she had no guile.  However, as
she walked into my office, she closed the door behind her.  As I'm sure you
can imagine, Rule Number One for a male high teacher is never alone in a
room with a girl and have the door closed.

   "Open the door," I said, annoyed at the interruption and already annoyed
at whatever she was going to ask me.

   She made no move to open the door, and just stood there, regarding me,
sizing me up for the (in her mind) coming fight.

   "Why don't you date Ms.  J?" she asked, arms still folded.

   "Because I think she's ugly and obnoxious.  Now open the door." Ms.  J
was the only other young non-married faculty member.  Again, Didi ignored
my request.  I wasn't sure I liked where this was going.

   "Are you gay?"

   "No.  Open the door."

   There was a pause.

   "You should have an affair with me.  All the boys in my grade are either
already dating someone, or unattractive."

   While I can't say I hadn't thought about tapping that, I usually
pictured myself hate-fucking her cute ass, or jamming my cock down her
throat until her tear-stained eyes begged for air.  Still, sleeping with a
student is pretty serious business, and as much as it appealed to me, there
were obstacles.  First, she was bitchy and a princess.  Being into BDSM,
that doesn't work for me.  I was sure that once she found out what I
considered fulfilling in a relationship, the topic would be dead.  And even
if she were ok with that, I would need some serious insurance, enough to
make sure that she would never tell a soul.

   But first, I wanted to mess with her.

   "What makes you think you're worth risking my career?  Why would I want
to sleep with you."

   She snorted, clearly offended.  "Well, there's no one else around for
you.  I can be a good girlfriend, you know." She half-smiled and
half-smirked.  I think this was her way of telling me that I could expect
not just blowjobs, but sex.

   "What could I get from you that I couldn't get by picking up some trashy
ho at a bar?"

   She stood there, but the bravado had worn off, and I could see that the
self-esteem issues which lay so close the the surface were about to bust
out.

   "Didi - come here." She walked closer to me, as I stood up.  "Come right
here." I pointed to the ground directly in front of me.  She moved closer,
now just inside the personal space bubble, uncomfortably close for her. 
"Turn around."

   She looked me in the eye for a moment, and then turned.

   I took a deep breath.  What I was about to do could get me fired, but I
wanted to see how determined she was.  I was tempted by the chance that
this might actually happen.  I figured (probably mistakenly) that if it
were my word against hers, she was crazy enough that people would believe
me.

   In a single motion, I stepped forward, clamping one hand over her nose
and mouth, cutting off her air.  With the other hand, I roughly mauled her
breasts through her thin blouse, disregarding her bra.  I whispered roughly
in her ear:

   "Didi - I'll tell you what you can do for me.  You see - I don't like
nice girlfriends who go shopping and send valentines.  I do nasty and
terrible things to girls.  I like to tie them up, I clamp their little
titties," I tweaked her nipple harshly, and then plunged down past the
waist of her skirt, into her panties, "and I like to fuck them dirty. 
Sometimes I even fuck them up in the ass.  If you're a dirty slut, you'll
like it." I ground my erection into her ass, and jammed two fingers into
her pussy, which was soaking.  I relaxed my hand on her face just enough to
give her a single gulp of air.  "I use words like fuck and cunt, I'll beat
your ass and make you thank me for it.  I'll use you like a fuck doll, I
won't take your shit." As I was pumping her cunt and mashing the palm of my
hand against her clit, I bit her ear - not hard enough to leave a mark
though, and I felt her shudder.  It took me a moment to realize it was an
orgasm.

   "If you want to be serious about this, bring me 10 pictures of you
fucking and sucking with your dog, fluffy or whatever his name is.  Then
we'll talk."

   I released her, and she took an unsteady step forward.  As she fled my
office, she looked back at me with fear and uncertainty in her eyes.  I
took a deep breath, not really believing what I had done, before I realized
I might have gone too far.  I immediately picked up the phone and called my
mentor on the faculty, and spun a tail of her getting upset over something
stupid, just to cover my ass.

   The school is too small to avoid someone, but for days she wouldn't meet
my gaze or acknowledge me in the halls.  I decided the whole thing was
over.



   Continued...

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