Subject: FANTASIA: Suffering Students  (20/25)
From: an117711@anon.penet.fi

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                      SUFFERING STUDENTS
                       by V.P. Viddler
                              20

    No students had ever been so anxious to get to school each day
as the students this term and Abraham Lincoln High.

   EAch day was a treat and a holiday and an adventure. Each
morning there was Mr. Gibbs' class, with Holly as the main
attraction. At lunchtime, there was Gloria's alway arousing show in
the cafeteria. All day long there was usually something interesting
going on in the halls or the classrooms, some exciting
divertissement involving Gloria or Holly or Joanna or maybe Ginny
or whoever. And now, every afternoon, there was Miss Anger's class.
And what a class it was!

   I took it very gradually after that first day. The fearful
anticipation on Miss Anger's face each day as she wondered what I
had in store for her was too delicious to lose by opening the whole
box all at once. Day by day, bit by bit, I twisted the screw
tighter. It made each new capitulation, each further fraction of
degradation, that much more delightful for us. And torturous for
our teacher. Who, nonetheless, and not without much pleading and
crying and vituperation, did everything I demanded. For she had no
way out.

   So Miss Anger wore the tight dress. Without underwear. And after
that she wore the short miniskirt I asked for. And the plunging
neckline, braless of course.

   And then I began making her strip in class.

   Not all the way at first. I let her conduct the class topless.
Or bottomless. And all the time Miss Anger knew that day was
rapidly approaching when her class would consist of a different
kind of lesson. Lossons she conducted with her vagina, and her
mouth, and her ass. But I was in no particular hurry.

   And then one Sunday I got a call from Henry. "Your teacher bird
is flying away," he said.

   "What?"

   "Miss Anger. Looks as if she's moving."

   "Shit," I said, and I hung up and found Miss Anger in the phone
book and ran all the way to her house. And damned if there wasn't
a moving van right in front. And four guys carrying furniture from
the house.

   "Hold it," I said. "Stop right now. Put it all back."

   "What?" one said. "Who the hell are you?"

   "I'll show you," I said, and I strode up to the door and pushed
inside and saw Miss Anger standing in the living room. She saw me
and cried out.

   "Going someplace?" I said. "Going away, Miss Anger?" And I
slapped her as hard as I could in the face, and then I slapped her
again backhand, and then a third time. Miss Anger fell to the floor
and just lay there, crying and moaning.

   "That's who I am," I said to the movers. "Now bring all that
stuff back in. This lady's not going anyplace."

   "Oh god," Miss Anger sobbed. "Oh dear god."

   "What about our pay?" the guy said.

   "Here's your pay," I said, and I poked Miss Anger's body with my
foot.

   "No!" Miss Anger cried in horror.

   I hooked my toe under the bottom of her skirt and pushed it up
over her curving legs. "Nice, isn't it?" I said. "How about it?
Will she cover your bill?"

   "Maybe," the guy said. "If she's good enough."

   "Don't worry," I said. And I reached down for Miss Anger's long
yellow hair and pulled on it hard, bringing her to her feet with a
shriek of pain. I forced that beautiful head back and I spit in her
face. "Okay, bitch," I said. "You brought this on yourself. That
was dumb, trying to go away. Now you pay." I let go her hair.
"Okay, guys. All yours. Any way you want."

   "No!" Miss Anger sobbed. "No no no please you can't no god help
me please--"

   "Shut up," I said, and hit her again. "Strip," I said. "Strip
for us, Miss Anger. Now."

   "Please--" Miss Anger choked. "I can't, I can't, no--"

   "Christ," one of the moving guys said. "What a dish! My prick is
so hard I'd like to whip her with it."

   "Stubborn twat, isn't she?" the first guy said, his voice thick.

   I could tell these guys thought as I did. "Would you like to
make her do it?" I said.

   "Hell, yes!" the guy said.

   "Okay," I said, and I took hold of Miss Anger and shoved her
hard in his direction. Miss Anger shrieked as she staggered into
him.

   He grabbed her and twisted an arm up behind her, making her arch
her back, and with his other hand he mauled her breasts. "Come on,
baby," he growled. "Do a strip for us or I'll break  your arm."

   "Go ahead," another guy said. "Snap it off."

   "How about a finger?" I suggested. "Or two or three or four. One
at a time. See how many it takes to get her to do it. That way she
can hurt like hell but still stay conscious."

   "Good idea," the guy said. "Hold her hand."

   "No!" Miss Anger screamed in terror.

   One of them grabbed her hand.

   "The left hand," I said. "So she can use the right one to strip
with."

   "Right." And he got Miss Anger's left hand and the first guy
took hold of her little finger and grinned at her.

   "No," Miss Anger babbled, and her voice shook with fright. "No
don't don't no please no--"

   And the guy just grinned harder and pushed her finger back, 
back and back until it snapped. Miss Anger howled in agony and her
body twisted and spasmed, but the guy still held her hand.

   "How about it, baby?" he said. "Will you strip for us now?"

   Miss Anger was crying and moaning so hard she couldn't answer,
so the guy took hold of her ring finger and pushed it back.

   "No!!" Miss Anger howled, but too late. Snap! And a piercing
scream.

   Still he held her. "Will you do it?" he said.

   "Yes!" Miss Anger screamed desperately. "Yes! Yes! No more! No
more god no more! I will!"

   "Okay," I said. "Do it."

   The man let her go.

   And sobbing, moaning, in terrible pain, her left hand hanging
with its twisted fingers by her side, Miss Anger with her right
hand began to unbutton her blouse. Not looking at any of us, she
got it unbuttoned, and with difficulty pulled it off. Crying with
shame and agony, she pushed down her skirt. She had a good bit of
trouble trying to open her bra with one hand, but nobody helped.
The guys whistled as she bared her breasts. And then she slid off
the panties with that good hand and stood naked in front of us.

   "Crawl," I said, and we watched avidly as she crawled like a
wounded animal, favoring her painful hand. And crying all the time.

   And then they spread Miss Anger out on the floor and went at it.

   It went on all day long. All ways. Again and again. With a few
variations involving leather belts and sharp tools and burning
cigarettes. We had to stuff rags in her mouth so no one would try
to investigate all that frantic screaming.

   And finally I told them to take the trip Miss Anger had
scheduled across the country, but to take her too, and bring her
back. So they strung her up by her wrists in the back of the van
and took off. Miss Anger dangled naked and screaming through her
gag in pain and horror as they drove away.    "As much as you can
take," I said. "Any time, any place. And anybody."

      "Anybody?"

      "Anybody," I said. "I'll tell you what. I'll start you off
right. You tell me who you think is the absolute sexiest female in
this whole school. The one girl who turns you on most. The one
you'd really like to give it to. Who makes your cock go hard when
you think about her. Anybody. Any girl in this school. Tell me who,
and I guarantee you--I promise you that when you come to work
tomorrow, that girl will be here. In your office. Waiting for you.
Stark naked. Tied down across your desk. Spread out. Unable to
move. All yours. Yours to do anything you want to. All naked and
helpless to resist you. And you can use her any way you want. All
day long. You can fuck her. Or stick your cock in her mouth. Or
whip her. Her tits, her belly, her thighs. Or burn her body with
your cigar tip. Or whatever."

      "I don't want that," Pratt said.

      "Oh," I said. "Well, what--"

      "I want her to be brought to me," Pratt said. "I want her
clothed. Fully clothed. So I can rip them off her myself."

      "Okay," I said.

      Pratt went on. "I want her hands bound behind her. Her
wrists. Lashed together. Tightly."

      "Okay," I said again.

      "And I want her hair down. Down and loose. Flowing. Her long
hair, her long lovely blonde hair."

      Pratt was glazing over. "Ah--Doctor Pratt," I said. "Okay.
You can have all that."

      "Oh god," Pratt said, almost drooling.

      "Just one thing," I said. "Who is it? Who do you want?"

      "You don't know?" Pratt said. "The most arousing, tempting,
and snobbish princess in this building."

      "Just say who," I said. "And she's as good as yours. Which
girl is it?"

      "Not a girl," Pratt said. "Not a student. A teacher."

      I hadn't counted on that.

      "Who?" I said.

      "Why, Miss Anger, of course," Pratt said.

      "Ah," I said.

      That wasn't surprising, actually. Miss Anger was without a
doubt the most attractive and sensuous instructor in school. I'd
sometimes daydreamed about having a crack at her myself, and so had
most of the guys. And the faculty, obviously. The more I thought
about Miss Anger, the harder my prick got. It was true, she was a
cold bitch. Haughty and proud. But shit, what a body! Breasts as
round and firm and bouncy as basketballs. Legs that wouldn't quit.
And curves all over that mouth-watering torso.

      What a break, I thought. Because I intended to get Miss Anger
for Pratt, and thta meant I would get a pretty good piece too. But
I thought it only fair for Pratt to have first crack.

      So at eight o'clock Friday morning I, along with Henry,
escorted a struggling Miss Anger to Doctor Pratt's office. With her
hands bound in back of her, tightly, at the wrists, as requested.
Miss Anger was not happy about this.

      At Pratt's door I knocked and Pratt opened the door, and as
he saw Miss Anger standing there he began to laugh. Miss Anger
called him a string of awful things, and Pratt stopped laughing and
told us to bring her in.

      And then he punched her in the stomach. Hard, too.

      I was taken aback, but that was nothing to Miss Anger's
reaction. All the air went out of her with a woosh, and she bent
forward, staggered back and fell down, long yellow hair flying, and
lay on the floor, writhing and gasping and sobbing and spasming,
trying to catch her breath, rolling helplessly with her arms bound
behind her.

      Pratt was doing what I had never known him to do before.
Smiling.

      Crying hard, Miss Anger tried to get up, but Pratt said,
"Don't get up, Rachel." And to emphasize that wish, he kicked her
viciously right in the tit. Miss Anger screamed horribly and fell
back again, her trussed body flailing, legs kicking blindly,
causing her skirt to pull up high on her lusciously curving thighs,
and horrible sounds coming out of her throat.

      "Look at her legs," Pratt said raspingly. "Look at those fine
shapely thighs and calves. And those--those fabulous breasts! How
they bob and roll as Rachel twists beautifully in pain. I've
thought of you like this, Rachel. And now--"

      "Shit," Henry whispered, "I didn't know her first name was
Rachel."

      "Don't start," I said, but too late.

      "Rolling Rachel," Henry said. "Rachel rolls revealingly
around the room. Rachel's rompers ruck up."

      "You,"  Pratt said. "Shut up."

      "Yes, sir," Henry said.

      "In fact, go away," Pratt said.

      Henry left with a long backward look. I started out too, but
Pratt said, "Not you," and I stopped. "You stay," Pratt said.
"Rachel, I want to sit here and watch you get raped by a student.
Rape her," Pratt said.

      "Wait!" Miss Anger cried. "What do you--I'll--you can't--
no--no--no--NOOOOO!"

      "Yes," Pratt said, watching Miss Anger with all his
attention. "Go on. Rape her."

      So I did.

      It was fun. First I had to rip off her clothes, and Miss
Anger struggled mightily, but as she did Pratt would kick her hard,
usually in a most painful spot, and she would cry and sob and I
would rip and rip and after a while Miss Anger was naked. I slapped
at her breasts and I bit her neck and I twisted her flesh and I
pinched her nipples and when she was howling and bucking and
choking with sobs and gasps and pleas I pried her long thighs apart
and threw myself on top of her and grabbed her hair and jammed my
dork into her pussy and fucked the shit out of her, while Doctor
Pratt rubbed his dick around her face and came all over it, all
over her beautiful face and har and lips and Rachel was crazy with
pain and horror.