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Article 16 of 31

Subject:      Repost: Fantasia--Suffering Students 22/25
From:         pamela7@juno.com
Date:         1997/05/01
Message-Id:   <336b18ce.21483873@NNTP.ix.netcom.com>
Newsgroups:   alt.sex.stories
[More Headers]

SUFFERING STUDENTS   22/25
by V.P. Viddler

                               22

     "Jolly jouncing jiggling juddering gyrating Joanna. With the
juicy jellylike jugs. Joanna jogs my gism."
     "Not him," Joanna said, but not with any real hope. "God, not
him."
     "Now, now," I said. "Henry's no worse than I am. I'll hurt you
just as much as he will. Possibly more. And I'm going to enjoy it just
as much, too. Probably more."
     "I know," Joanna said in that same hopeless tone. "You're both
alike. Awful sadistic monsters. Sick pain-loving bastards."
     "Joanna," I said. "Take off your clothes."
     "Not him," Joanna said. "I'll do anything. Oh god."
     "Why bother?" I said. "You know it's dumb. You know I'm not going
to send Henry away. You know why you're here. Don't you, Joanna?
You're here to give us pleasure. Both of us. To entertain us. With
your pain. And your screams. And your tender young body. Both of us.
You know that, don't you, Joanna?"
     Joanna had tried to put up a brave front, but now it was starting
to crumble. Her pretty face was pale. "I--yes," she whispered.
"Jerry--look--"
     "Apologize to Henry," I said. "You hurt his feelings."
     "Right," Henry said. "Hurting Henry. How hard. Henry will have to
hurt back. Horrible howling hurt."
     "I--I'm sorry," Joanna said abjectly. All that bravado had
quickly dissipated, and had left a very frightened young girl. "I'm
really sorry. I--I apologize. Don't--don't--" But she knew it was no
use to ask us not to hurt her. As I had said, that was why she was
there.
     "Joanna," I said. "I told you to take off your clothes. What are
you waiting for?"
     "I can't," Joanna said shakily.
     "What?"
     Joanna suddenly went down on her knees.
     "Please," she said piteously. "Jerry, please. Look, I'm begging
you. I'm begging. I'll do anything for you. Both of you. Anything.
God, I--I...just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it, I
swear I will, I swear it, you don't have to hurt me, Jerry, for god's
sake, you've hurt me enough, you've hurt me so much, so many times,
you've made me scream and crawl and oh dear god don't any more you can
do whatever you want just please I-I'll scream for you, I'll crawl,
I'll beg, I'll suck your cocks, I'll lick out your ass, I-I'll be your
slave, don't oh god oh no oh no oh my god--" Joanna was babbling
frantically, but she finally ran down as she saw that Henry and I were
just standing there grinning at her. And she burst into sobs of
despair and terror.
     Actually, Joanna had known from the beginning that it was no use.
That what we wanted from her was her agony. But the prospect of such
pain is not easily dealt with.
     And now, crying and shaking, Joanna took off her clothes. Still
on her knees, because she didn't have the strength to stand up.
     But in another two minutes she was standing all right. Standing
very straight. On her toes. Because her toes were the only part of her
that could touch the floor. As she hung by her wrists. Hanging that
way, wrists bound tight together high over her head, that fantastic
round body was a taut, straining line. From her twisting, clutching
hands to her painfully stretching, aching arms to her agonizingly
pulled shoulders to her heaving chest to her round, high, buoyant and
out-thrust breasts, to her flat, stretching torso to her smooth soft
stomach to her gorgeously curving hips to her brown-haired beckoning
crotch to her marvellous shapely thighs to her sculpted, taut,
strain-rippling calves to her straining, reaching feet, Joanna was a
fabulously, erotically enticing sight to drool over.
     "Beautiful," Henry said. "It's always so exciting this way. To
take the strain off her toes she has to hang by her wrists, and the
pain is so bad she has to stand on her toes again. No break in the
pain. I do enjoy that."
     "Hold on," I said. "I have a new wrinkle today."
     "Oh?" Henry said.
     "Look at what's under her feet," I said.
     "Ahah," Henry said. "It's a metal plate. What could this
portend?"
     "It heats up," I said. "Electrically."
     "Wow!" Henry said. "Yes! Christ! Do it!"
     Joanna got the idea also, and she let out a cry of horror. "No!"
she howled. "No god no please please--"
     "Heat," Henry said. "Horrible hot heat to hurt her ho ho."
     "Okay," I said. "I'm turning it on," and I did.
     Joanna began to whimper with fearful anticipation. The metal
plate heated up rapidly.
     "Watch," I said. "Watch her dance."
     "Yes!" Henry said. "Oh, yeah! Dance, baby. Dance for us. That's
it. Dance!"
     And Joanna danced. As the metal got red-hot, she pulled herself
up with a shriek, holding her legs high as she hung her weight on her
wrists. But the pain of the cruel rope cutting into her flesh, and the
strain in her tiring thighs forced her to lower those curvaceous
limbs. And from then on Joanna danced for us, a frantic, screaming,
kicking, agonizing and cock-stiffeningly erotic dance of pain, her
body twisting wildly, breasts bouncing and rolling, hair flying about
her thrashing head as she desperately hopped from one foot to the
other, yowling with torment as she burned her toes on hot metal,
writhing and squirming and abrading her bound wrists by hanging on the
rope as both sexy legs kicked uncontrollably in air. Yelling and
screaming with pain and torture. It was a sight to see. And Henry and
I watched. Watched until Joanna's wild gyrations had that fine body
running with sweat, until her throat was hoarse and raw with screaming
and howling and pleading, until she was gasping and panting and
struggling for breath, but unable to stop that awful, wonderful,
horrible, fantastically stimulating dance of pain.
     And then I walked up to Joanna and took my clothes off and stood
right in front of that twisting, frantic body, straddling the hot
metal plate. With a desperate cry, Joanna lunged that body at me and
clutched at me with her flailing, strain-wracked legs, wrapping them
tightly around my thighs in a frantic effort to use my body to allow
her to keep her toes off that burning floor and the weight of her body
off those painfully cutting ropes. I grinned and took a small step
forward, allowing her to clamp me more tightly with those thighs and
press that voluptuous body harder to mine. I gloried in the sensation
of that whole sexy wriggling twisting body against me, those hard firm
breasts rolling against my chest, soft smooth thighs clutching my
hips.
     Joanna cried out as I took my stiff, throbbing prick and
positioned it at her pussy; but I said, "Fuck me, Joanna. Fuck me good
or by god I'll go away and let you stay here for the day."
     So Joanna took me into her squirming, jouncing cunt and I fucked
that clutching, twisting, jerking body joyfully as she sobbed and
cried and hated it all, and held onto my body for all she was worth.
     "I'll fuck her too," Henry said. "In the ass."
     "Later," I said. "Right now I want you to whip her."
     "No!" Joanna screamed.
     "Yes. Whip you while I'm fucking you. Or do you want me to stop?"
     "No! God no!"
     "Okay. Tell Henry to whip you."
     "Ahh! Whip me!" Joanna howled, and Henry did so hard and happily
and I fucked that pain-maddened body as the whip slashed into her.

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