("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW! Thank you... _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: phs07.txt (mf,blkmale,humil,sex slave) Authors name: Wiley06 Story title : Portervill High: Sara's Training Part 7 of 11 parts ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ © 1998 This work is copyrighted to the author. No changes may be made to this story, and the author information must remain intact. This work may be copied freely for non-profit purposes only. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Porterville High: Sara's Training Part 1.6 By Wiley06 Jim and Achilles returned the next day, Friday, to Sara's house. This time she made sure she was pre- pared, with two steak dinners ready and $500 cash sitting next to each plate. She wore only and apron and made sure to say "master" and "thank you" at the right times, and spoke only when spoken to. It was, she thought, singularly humiliating, but she didn't think she could take two days in a row of punishments, punishments which she both dreaded and desired. Jim and Achilles, for their parts, didn't seem inclined to push things. They did tie her wrists together behind her back and cinch her elbows together, which was painful at first and then just uncomfortable, and they did make her squirm across the floor and lick their feet, but otherwise they seemed content to just fuck her. They used all three of her holes again, and left her fully satisfied. She was, she was afraid, beginning to get into it. She had kept her three studs, as instructed, but found sex with them to pale in comparison to Jim's torturous games. She found herself getting excited thinking about the next degradation he was going to inflict on her, rubbing herself to orgasm thinking of him. Maybe she liked it so much, she thought, because it was a new experience to her; before, she had always been the one in charge, always the one whose sexual appetites over- whelmed, and sometimes scared, her partners. Here, Jim was in control, and Jim didn't give a shit about her sexual appetites -- to him, she was a piece of meat to fuck when _he_ wanted to fuck it, and that excited her. He used her desires to humiliate her, to rub her face in her sluttish behavior; he laughed at her and beat her and bound her desires to him. It was no longer a question of blackmail, al- though she still hoped to get that tape back, just in case; now she was a willing slave, willing to give him whatever he wanted. Achilles, for his part, found his experiences with Sara exhilarating, and it gave him ideas about what to do with Amy Sanders. That evening he climbed in through her window and left his "requests" for the following week. They were rather simple: on Monday at 4:00 they were to meet in her room, and Wednesday and Thursday they were to meet in the orange grove at 4:15. Monday, Achilles figured, was the time for the open hand, the previous closed hand having been her humiliating spank- ing. He wondered, though, how long it was going to take before he could get down her pants: he was losing patience. Jim was satisfied. Sara was turning into a good little slave. Her actions that Friday convinced him that it was time to really start her training, and to that end he signed her up for every night the following week, leaving him the weekend free to prepare. He was glad he had told Achilles: that boy had a certain some- thing. You could have knocked him over with a feather, though, when Achilles told him about Amy. He wasn't so amazed at what she had done, but that Achilles had been so quick to take advantage of it; his estimation of the boy rose with each passing day. Amy was the one person of the four who was any- thing but enjoying herself. She had passed from a state of hatred toward Achilles toward a state of dread. That Friday at school she had been withdrawn, and quailed inside every time she thought Achilles seemed to be around. She constantly thought about turning herself in, and once or twice even decided to do so, but then she discovered her dread of jail outweighed her dread of Achilles. Once, in a flash of insight which made her fear for herself, she realized what her dread meant: that she had resigned herself to Achilles' blackmail; she would no longer fight him. While Ms. Ellsworth spent the weekend catching up on her schoolwork, and Amy spent hers in a state of acute depression, rarely moving from her bed, Jim and Achilles went shopping. The went across the state line and hit a number of pornographic video and book stores. They also stopped by a couple leather stores and found one place which specialized in bondage equipment. They managed to spend most of the $1000 they had extorted from Sara; the rest they spent at a hardware store, picking up the necessary hardware to put all the new ideas they had formed into practice. Monday rolled around the schoolday passed pretty much as usual. After school, Achilles met Amy in her room. "Hello Amy. How you doing today?" he asked, look- ing carefully at her, noticing the large bags under her eyes and the listless way she carried herself. "I'm okay," she replied without much conviction, sitting down on her bed opposite him, yet not looking at him. "What do you want today?" "Amy, I'm really sorry about this." He got no response. "You know I've always liked you," he kept at it, waiting for a response, "and, well, I was kind of mad the way you always ignored me, like you thought you were better than I was." He made sure to stutter and look away, peeking at her from the corner of his eyes. He was not disappointed to see her raise her head and look at him now. "When I got those photos, I... well... I kind of wanted to punish you for how you treated me, you see?" He looked pleadingly into her eyes. She was looking at him, but he couldn't see anything in those eyes accept a mute despair. Well, he thought to himself as he continued, I sure hope this works. "I feel really bad now, especially since I've got a girlfriend now." He noticed her start a little -- good. "I thought maybe I should give back the photos and everything" -- she was interested now: life and hope had come back into her eyes -- "but, well, I don't know. I still want to get to know you, without all this stuff between us, and I'm afraid if I give you the photos, you'll just ditch me." He looked up at her, trying to twist his face into his most dole- ful expression. Amy didn't react through much of this speech, her mind was too dulled by despair. When he mentioned that he had a girlfriend, though, she perked up: she hadn't known, and was he saying that this might change things? Now what? That he was going to give her those photos? Oh please, please. No. What was he saying now -- that he wanted to be friends with her? That he wanted to put all this behind them? Of course she would ditch him if she could! She didn't hate him, but seeing him would remind her of the time in her past when she had been completely and utterly humiliated. So close to freedom! She forced herself to reach over to him and take his hands in her own. "Achilles," she said softly, looking him earnestly in the eyes, "I'm sorry for making you angry. I'm sorry all this had to happen between us. I can be your friend. Let's talk. Tell me about yourself, tell me about your new girl. I want to listen." She sounded convincing to her ears, she hoped she sounded convincing to his; oh, how she hoped she sounded convincing to him. Achilles smiled to himself: hook, line and sinker. "O... o... okay." He started out talking about his photography, about how all his life he wanted to capture life, to capture beauty. He shyly hinted that he had secretly taken pictures of her, so full of life and beauty. He talked about how he saw each photo, how he could live or relive each picture in his mind over and over again; how intoxicating and wondrous it was. He led into his new girlfriend (a complete fabrication) and how she too liked photography. He had met her weeks ago, and he hinted that they had just become intimate, sexually. He then rhapsodized about how wonderful _it_ was, leaving it unspoken; how it was the sharing of two souls, how it was a union of minds. He spoke of how _it_ felt, so good, like she had told him, like "taking and elevator up and up, faster and faster, until it burst through the roof of the building and then hung there, floating in the sky, finally com- ing gently to rest." He told her what was special was that she had felt this, that he had made her feel this. That was what he loved the most: her pleasure in him. He petered out about then, inwardly amused that she had listened so raptly to his every word, and then asked, awkwardly, if she had ever felt anything like that. Amy at first listened to him because she had to if she wished to get those photos back, but then she truly began to hear him, and was amazed. He had been such a sleazeball the previous week, and yet here he was, spilling his soul to her, and it wasn't banal and uninteresting -- it was, well, she admitted to herself, deep. She was flattered by an oblique reference to her and listened, enthralled, as he talked about sex with his girlfriend. He made it all sound so wonderful, important and wonderful: the sharing, the feelings, the pleasure, the tending to each other's needs. The way he described it made her want to feel what he felt, to be on that elevator as it burst through the roof. When he paused she was lost in daydreams, and she blushed a little when he heard him ask if she had ever felt that way. She paused for a minute before answering, thinking of her past sexual experiences. She had lost her vir- ginity when she was a freshman to a senior jock, her first boyfriend. She remembered it had been extremely painful, but that she had been happy that he had enjoy- ed it so much. Of course, he had dumped her shortly thereafter, and she had been quite broken up about it. Since then she had only had sex with her last ex, and although it hadn't been painful, it had been nothing special -- in out repeat if necessary was what she remembered about it. It had been, she reflected, disillusioning. "No," she answered him, "I've never felt that way before." He commiserated, shaking his head and wishing that she could have the same feelings he had. He glanced at his watch and jumped up suddenly, "I've got to go. We're having company tonight." He gave her a quick peck on the forehead and ran to the window. "The pictures..." she stuttered out before he was gone. He paused for a moment as if considering, then said, "I don't know, Amy, I don't know. Give me some time to think about it?" With that, he smiled and slid down the tree, running back in the direction of his house. Amy lay back on her bed and wondered. She was confused: was Achilles a psychopathic dweeb or was he really a sweet guy? She didn't understand him, couldn't make him out. He had been such an ass to her, setting out to humiliate her whenever he could, but today he had been so different, a sweet, shy guy who had fallen in love with some girl. Would he return those photos to her, she wondered? Was this all some bizarre plot to fuck with her mind? She doubted it -- he had been so sincere. Well, Wednesday would tell. Achilles was on top of the world: she was hooked! Wednesday he would continue to talk to her, but he would talk more explicitly about his sexual experiences even if they were mere fabrication. He might even hint that his girlfriend was bisexual. He could go into more detail Thursday, and then, next week, he would produce her, Ms. Sara Ellsworth, playing the part of the love of his life. He didn't think it would be long after that that he would be porking Amy, sweet Amy. The photos, now he would keep those -- insecurity would be his excuse, and one he thought she would buy. Every- thing was working out as planned, and tonight was another night with Sara. Jim and Achilles showed up at Sara's with two duffle bags full of goodies, and after dinner, Jim announced that it was time for her cunt-slave training to begin. He began by cuffing her arms behind her back and cinching her elbows together, and then tying her down face up on the table, so that her calves were tied to the legs of the table, spreading them wide and bend- ing them at the knee. He gagged her with a large ball gag and then began binding her breasts while Achilles ran a vibrator gently against her pussy lips. When the tops of her breasts looked like enormous red grapes about to burst, and her nipples were hugely engorged with blood, he began flicking them, earning cries of pain from her, mingled with moans of pleasure caused by Achilles' skillful manipulation of her clitoris. Jim moved to teeth and clothespins on her nipples, and then used rose stems and finally needles. Achilles was by now slowly, teasingly running the vibrator in and out of her sopping cunt, occasionally working it under her body and pushing it through her anus. They worked her like this for close to 45 minutes, her cunt yearning for orgasmic release and her tits near bursting with overwhelming pain, a pain which blended with the pleasure in her pussy to drive her crazy with desire. Finally Jim mounted her, holding his body above hers while jackhammering his cock into her cunt. She could feel her tits and body throbbing with pleasure as her orgasm approached, when, just before she came, Achilles cut through the bondage on her breasts, re- leasing them. She screamed through her gag as she orgasmed, blood flowing swiftly back into her aching tits, blinding her with pain as she bucked through her orgasm, the pain in her breasts adding a delicious spice to her come. They untied her from the table and carried her, her arms still bound and her mouth still filled with the gag, into the bathroom. There they gave her an enima, one that burned like hot chili oil in the eyes, burned so that she sat moaning and squirming on the toilet seat and tried to shit her guts out while two strong pairs of hands held her down. They dragged her to the shower and sprayed off her crack, giving her some relief from the horrible burning in her ass and guts, but not enough; she was in mortal agony. Laugh- ing at her plight they dragged her back into the living room where they threw her over the back of the couch, her ass sticking high in the air. Achilles coated his cock with ointment of some kind and then forced it into her agonized, twitching anal passage. The ointment cooled off her insides, making the sensations assault- ing her ass barely manageable. Then, as Achilles began brutally fucking her ass and Jim grabbed her hair, slapped her face, and pinched her still sensitive breasts, she became consumed by a wild, animal passion. She came three times before Achilles spewed into her, each orgasm eclipsing the other, each orgasm painfully intense, centered in her burning ass. Finally they dragged her back to the table and bound her stringently on her back, her shins and knees bound flat on the table near her chest, her pussy and ass exposed in the air, her head hanging back off the table. One of them slid his cock slowly down her throat, his balls nestled against her nose, and began fucking her mouth, while the other pinched and slapped and squeezed her nether regions. Her clit was pinched by strong fingers, nails cutting into her tender flesh, until she screamed through the cock in her throat. Her labia was pinched and pulled painfully, and her ass slapped and poked and tugged. Every few minutes they would switch places, and each time the one at her groin would rub it gently for half a minute, sending pleasure racing through her body only to be turned to pain as he switched tactics, assaulting her tender flesh with fingers and nails and palms. This went on for about a half of an hour before they came down her throat. They still hadn't let her come, and she began to beg them, plead with them, to fuck her. Jim only smiled and grabbed her clit between his thumb and forefinger, while Achilles did the same with her nipples. Then they both squeezed, hard, harder, making her scream in agony, arching her back as she felt pain as she had never felt it before. Right before it became unbearable, right before she thought she was going to pass out, she came, screaming the whole time, and she came harder than she thought possible, seemingly for- ever. It only stopped a long while after they let go of her, and then they untied her and left her lying there, with a note from Jim beside her. Later that night, before she dropped off to sleep, she realized what they had done: not one ounce of pleasure had she received without accompanying pain. Every orgasm was accompanied by a delicious agony, turning the natural reactions of her body topsy-turvy. She shuddered as she realized their plan for her: they were turning her into a pain-slut. Pain slut was the last thing she though before she drifted off. _____________________________________________________ Kristen's collection - Directory 8 - Text 8414