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.

Please feel free to distribute this, on the condition that the
disclaimer and author's name remain intact and unaltered.

For previous parts, or other stories of mine, please check out
http://assm.asstr.org.

You can search by title or author, or just browse.  Happy reading.

Thanks to ASSTR, I also have a website at
http://www.asstr.org/~foxbat/ where you can find all of my work.  This
is also available via ftp at ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/foxbat/


Feedback, comments, suggestions, etc are always welcomed and
appreciated at foxbat00@gmail.com





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...


As always, I love to hear what people think.  Drop me an email at
foxbat00@gmail.com  

    

   
