0 comments/ 72375 views/ 13 favorites Failure is Not an Option Ch. 01 By: IdeeFixee The Dean peered through the closed Venetian blinds in his office window, observing the young teacher nervously pacing in his stifling waiting room. She was beautiful and hot, wearing a gauzy summer skirt with a tight jacket over a blouse, her smooth tawny skin perspiring. He was ready for her, but preferred to keep her waiting. Coming from a another institution that was considerably inferior to Kelten—and they were almost all inferior—she'd only been on staff for a few weeks, so he knew that she was worried about the reason for this meeting with the top dog. She had good reason to be concerned. He glanced at his clock: 4:30 pm, although the temperature had not yet cooled on this unusual, blazing hot June day. Faculty, staff and students had all departed, as planned. The new hire, Janice Slatter, had come on board so recently as an emergency replacement for the phys. ed. teacher, who had resigned abruptly. Janice was already popular with her students. The Dean was not surprised about the boys, who ogled her body and sensuous face, with its large eyes and wide, thick-lipped mouth. But the girls liked her as well. She must work out like a demon, he thought, to have such an incredible shape. Her jet-black straight hair was cut very short, almost like a tomboy, making her look years younger than her actual age of 26. He realized her haircut looked the way Demi Moore, Winona Ryder, Natalie Portman and Halle Berry wore theirs when younger. The voluptuous innocent had been charming when he had interviewed her, although fidgeting and nervous. Her behavior had not been surprising. People were frequently uncomfortable with him one-on-one, due to his serious demeanor and what he'd been told was a tendency toward a "hard" look or "hard-edged" stare. Yet after her hiring, she remained nonplussed when they said hello in the Teachers' Lounge or passed each other in a hall. He had meant to observe her during class when she was in her sports gear, or when she coached the swim team in a one-piece suit, but had not had the time. She wore no wedding or engagement ring and he knew next to nothing about her personal background. His lupine eyes watched her every move. He'd caught her surreptitiously looking at him several times, in student assemblies or in the hallways, when she would turn away, blushing, as he stared back. He knew that he would have her. He had begun musing about a pretext to summon her, and had decided on a standard inquiry to see how she was faring after a few weeks, when he'd received the upsetting, major news that had caused him to scramble, news that could have put his own position in jeopardy. Thankfully, he'd devised a potential solution—but only if he could bend her to his will. He opened the door. "Miss Slatter?" She started and whirled around, the full, lightweight skirt floating up and revealing half of her slender, taut thighs. It was a seductive effect, made more so since it was charmingly unplanned. "Yes Dean, thank you." She entered his office and he shut and locked the door. He walked to his desk and sat as she stood in front of his desk. "I'll be with you shortly," he said, pretending to be occupied with paperwork. "Would you like a drink?" he asked, pointing without looking at the carafe, bottles, crystal decanter and glasses on the sideboard. Relieved to have something to do, she said, "Yes, thank you sir. May I pour a glass for you?" He nodded. She added ice to two large glasses, filled them with the clear liquid from the carafe and served him. She followed his lead in raising their glasses. "To taking responsibility," he toasted cryptically, looking at her for the first time. She flushed, her silky tawny skin now highlighted with pink. He hadn't been this close to her since her arrival weeks ago. Unconsciously, she oozed sensuousness. They drank and she sputtered and coughed, leaning forward, her fat tits straining against her jecket. He smiled. She had swallowed a large mouthful as if it was water, not realizing it was premium vodka. "Pardon me, Dean. I didn't realize it was vodka," she said hoarsely, recovering. "Is it okay for me to be have alcohol?" "Oh yes. It's after hours and nobody else is in the building." She looked around nervously. "You look uncomfortable. Why don't you take off your jacket in this heat?" "Thanks for your concern, Dean, but I'd rather not, if you don't mind." He frowned at her, not used to having his suggestions declined. "Then take a proper swallow of your drink and stand properly." Tense, she drank off a large amount of the vodka. "Mmmm," she said, unconsciously licking the sweet liquid off her big lips. "That's delicious. So smooth and refreshing." She assumed the standard, formal Kelten pose when addressing a superior, legs spread and hands clasped at the rear of her waist. "How's it going for you here at Kelten?" he inquired. "I know it's much different from your previous posting. Kelten has its own traditional way of doing things." "Oh, I like it here very much, sir. Everybody's been friendly and helpful, my department's facilities are excellent, and the kids are nice." The Dean simply stared at her, enjoying the prolongation of her discomfort. There was a pause, during which she shifted awkwardly. "Please, drink up. I'm so pleased that you like the vodka," he said. Gratefully, she drank, finishing the glass. He stood, poured her a refill and received her thanks. When he sat, he waited several seconds while she avoided his gaze. "Miss Slatter, before we get to the reason why I called you in, do you have any questions?" "Yes Dean, there's one" she said, taking a drink from her refill. "I'm sorry to be so slow, but it's a sensitive subject and embarrassing for me to speak about." "Please, drink up, it will help to relax you." She drained the remainder of the second glass. "Well, sir, it was a few days ago, after a class, and I was walking through the girls' changing room. Almost everybody had left. When I heard a shower running, I figured somebody had forgotten to turn it off. When I turned the corner into the shower room, there was actually a girl there. Her back was turned to me. Despite the water, I could see something unusual." She stopped. "And what was that?" Perspiring more heavily, she took another swallow. "Come, come, Miss Slatter, speak freely!" "Yes sir . . . Well, there were marks on her rear." "What do you mean? Like a beauty mark or birthmark? A tattoo perhaps?" "No sir. There were long thin lines . . . ." He raised his eyebrows questioningly although he already knew the answer. "I mean, they looked like red welts . . . as if she'd been beaten." "Mmm. Who is this student? And how many marks were there?" "It's Lauren Graham, and there were three. At least, three on her bottom . . . another three on her back." "Do you have any reason to think she'd been abused?" "No sir, or I would have come for you, I mean, come to you immediately. But she's doing very well in school, has lots of friends, and I even know her parents from a Parent/Teacher conference two weeks ago." She took another gulp." "Why didn't you ask her directly?" "I didn't want to embarrass her. I thought I should ask your advice first," she said "And it's right that you did so. I think I can explain what's going on." "Oh?" Relieved, the young beauty became more alert. "I knew you could help." "Lauren voluntarily agreed to a punishment or discipline session, a common practice here at Kelten that goes back many decades." The Dean fondly remembered that session, but he forced himself back to the present. "In order to keep this institution and its students functioning at the very highest professional level, the faculty has found these practices to be most effective. Since you're relatively unschooled in these practices from your previous school, I suggest you learn about them—and immediately. A teacher must know everything about her place of employment these days, don't you agree?" "Oh, yes sir," she hastily agreed, shifting nervously, uncomfortable about the Dean's proximity in front of her. "Miss Slatter, it's like an oven in here, and it's after hours, so I insist that you be more comfortable. It's so stifling that you look like you're choking. I won't take no for an answer. Take it off." "If you insist, sir." Slowly, the black-haired beauty undid her jacket buttons, flustered by this attractive and forceful man. Her shoulders pulled back as she slowly forced the tight jacket down her arms, thrusting her chest forward. The Dean realized why she wore it all through a hot day. He stared unabashedly, seeing the lace on her blue bra pushing against the thin, summer-weight linen blouse. "Isn't that better?" She nodded, humiliated by the filmy blouse that stuck tightly to her damp skin. Without warning, he stood, leaned over the desk and deftly undid two buttons, spreading the collar open and revealing her deep cleavage and the lacy edges of the bra. She forced herself to look up at him, the large hazel eyes wary. A change had come over Ms. Slatter. "What is it?" he prodded. She was frozen, with a blank, faraway expression on her face. "Ms. Slatter, may I ask you a personal question?" he asked. Hesitating, she tipped up her glass but it was empty. "Would you like a refill?" "Oh yes," she agreed gratefully. He poured her a large third cocktail, which she took eagerly and drank from. "Were you ever spanked by your parents?" It was lovely to see this young innocent blush. "Why do you ask, sir?" "Ms. Slatter, please don't answer a question with a question." "No sir, I was never spanked. But I was punished." The Dean waited. "By my father." He sat quietly. "He whipped and caned me," she blurted, cringing with shame, gulping her drink. "I see. At what age?" "From 14 up to the age of sixteen," she stammered, "when my parents divorced." He nodded again. "Then you're, shall we say, experienced." He stood and walked around his desk, sitting on it directly in front of her. "How often?" "Ummm. . . regularly." He raised an eyebrow as she squirmed. "Just about every weekend," she whispered, slurping more vodka to stall. There was silence. He reached up to her shoulders and pushed her down and back onto the thickly padded black leather coffee table behind her. "Sit properly," he reminded her. She immediately spread her legs, but wider than he expected, the skirt riding up her toned thighs. She also returned her arms to behind her back. By now she was perspiring so much that he could see the prominent bulges of her extremely dark nipples, realizing that her lace bra must be mostly transparent. "What implements did your father use? A hairbrush?" There was a long pause, during which she felt his unbroken gaze drilling into her. "He said a brush was for children. No, he used. . . a belt or. . . a crop. . . sometimes a switch." "How were you dressed? And did he put you over his lap?" Stalling for time, she replenished her cocktail. Once she'd drank, she resumed. "He had me strip down to a bra and panties, but I wasn't over his lap." The Dean assumed that her father wouldn't let her wear a bra and panties designed for grandmas, but slutty lingerie like the kind she was wearing now. He would sit in a chair wearing his boxers and make me kneel before him, then pull my panties down to my knees where they restricted any movement. I'd have to bend into him and rest my face in his lap while he bent over and struck my back and rear." The Dean could easily fill in the details, visualizing the hot teenager's lips buried in her father's groin as her old man inserted the brush handle in her cunt, pumping it back and forth as he came in his boxers, filling her nose with the scent of hot cum. Obviously she was sanitizing the lurid story. "Do you have siblings?" "A brother, two years younger." "Was he disciplined as well?" "No Dean," she whispered. "He. . . ." She tapered off. He jumped on her reticence. "He what? Answer me!" She shook her head. ""You've exhausted my patience, Ms. Slatter, and have just earned yourself a punishment. Do you understand?" She jumped up but found herself confined between the coffee table and the Dean. She swayed from the rapid intake of alcohol, blood rushing from her head, and held a hand to her forehead. He could see that the effects of copious vodka mixed with the sweltering heat were taking their toll. She had straightened up too quickly. She tottered and fainted, her glass dropping out of her hands as she collapsed, her upper body fortunately falling onto the top corner of the wide couch. The Dean walked over, confirmed that she was unharmed, and lifted her legs from the coffee table onto the couch. He then slowly dragged her by the ankles so her head and torso descended from the top corner onto the seat itself. In the process, her dress inched up to mid-thigh, revealing her pale blue stocking tops. Pleased, he pulled more until the dress had bunched around her waist, revealing smooth thighs and a pair of lacy blue, French cut panties that matched her bra. There was a big surprise. Her upper thighs were marked with striations, especially the inner portion. She'd been whipped, caned or flogged no more than several weeks ago. It must have been a boyfriend in her former location, he mused. He'd never acted in such a foolhardy or dangerous way with any of his other pre-slaves, but he was too excited to stop himself. He took one ankle and gently raised it until a foot rested on the top of the sofa, then carefully lowered the other foot to the floor. She was now spread about as wide as possible without using a bar or ropes. He looked at her panties. Beneath them, large labia lips pushed against the taut fabric. He was genuinely surprised that her mound was shaved bare. He would never have guessed. This one was full of surprises. Apparently she was not as innocent or inexperienced as she seemed. Recklessly, he reached down and stroked the fading marks on her thighs. She stirred slightly but didn't wake. Emboldened, he positioned his pointer finger and thumb on each side of her lips, and squeezed. The fat lips bulged up and her hips and legs moved slightly, but she remained unconscious. He touched a couple of fingers against the panties, expecting to find the material damp. Actually, it was drenched. He might have to accelerate his program with her, he mused. She was still out cold. He unzipped his bulging pants and rubbed his hard cock from her cheekbone down to her mouth, leaving a glistening smear of pre-cum. Squeezing his cock, he wiped it along her thick open lips, depositing more thickly glistening pre-cum and watching transfixed as it dribbled onto her slack tongue. Coming to his senses finally, the Dean replaced both legs so they were together on the couch seat, then gently rolled her over. Sure enough, there were more marks on the rear of her thighs, exceeded by darker marks on her tight ass, visible through the transparent panties. He rolled her onto her back and lowered her dress to cover her panties, but left the fabric so it exposed her thighs and stocking tops so she would be embarrassed when she awoke. He picked up one of the glasses and filled it halfway, then dribbled water onto her front, just enough to wet the dress and so he could better see her bra and breasts. Her eyes fluttered while he watched her nipples react to the icy drenching, growing hard. Brazenly, he pulled one bulging nipple and then the other. She moaned softly but did not awake. He knew it was only a matter of time before he would be training her tits and cunt lips. He estimated how many weeks it would take before the thick nipples and labia could be stretched by ½"–1" and how heavy the weights would have to be. * * * After a minute her eyes opened fully. After a few seconds, she realized where she was and what had happened and raised herself on her elbows, staring down at her exposed thighs but apparently oblivious of her protruding nipples. "I must have fainted," she said. She turned to the Dean. "I'm so sorry sir." She licked her lips, unaware that she was taking in more of his pre-cum. "There's ice water in the decanter, Miss Slatter. Go ahead and refill your glass." "Thank you sir." "Go slowly now," he warned, getting hard from the sight of her huge nipples. They looked to be very dark in color, a charcoal gray. She swung her legs off the couch and placed them on the floor, apparently forgetting that her thighs were still exposed when she saw the wet floor. "It's such a mess," she moaned. He gripped her biceps firmly and made her stand slowly, pleased at her embarrassment and contrition. "Your blouse is a mess too. It's drenched." She looked down at her bulging tits. "Take it off." Awkwardly, she walked unsteadily to the low sideboard, bending over to pour. He regarded the taut legs and thighs as she bent over the sideboard. "You've just earned a second punishment, Ms. Slatter." Resigned, she took her place again sitting on the coffee table and unbuttoned her blouse, peeling the sodden fabric off her bra and wet skin. "That's better," he said, ogling her magnificent tits and nipples. "I suppose you're wondering why I called you here?" "Yes sir," she said contritely, ashamed at being so exposed in front of her handsome, strong-willed boss, sitting so close he could reach out and touch her tits. "Doug Channing," he said. "Oh, him! He was impossible, Dean," she said exasperatedly. After weeks of his insolence, disruptiveness, lateness, non-participation, rudeness and sneering, snide remarks, I had no choice but to fail him." "Our rules stipulate that you're to first get approval from the Head of your department." "But Dean, the Head of Phys. Ed. was away on medical leave." "Then you should have come to me," he said firmly. "Ms. Slatter, what's the most important thing happening now on campus?" "That's easy, Dean. The construction for the new center." "And you know that the center's facilities – the theater, library, cafeteria, labs and more – are intrinsic to Kelten's continued status as the best school in this region of the country?" She nodded. "And that it required a capital fund of $15 million?" She nodded again. "Ms. Slatter, what's the name of the center?" Why, it's the—oh my God," she muttered, the tawny skin going a shade paler. "Oh no. . . ." She drained her drink. "Yes, Ms. Slatter: the Channing Center. Doug Channing is Brian Channing's only son, and Mr. Channing donated 65% of the center's funds himself." She clasped her hand to her forehead. "And he's supposed to give more." "But Doug can still graduate by taking summer classes." The Dean shook his head. "And miss the graduation ceremony? Miss the summer his father planned in great detail at great expense, like summering in Sardinia? You are both naïve and impetuous." "Dean, what can I do? I'd do anything!" she pleaded. "Fortunately for you, I've worked out a solution. It wasn't easy. Mr. Channing was livid." "Oh, thank you so much," she said excitedly "What is it?" "There are several aspects. I've already expunged the failure from our computer system and replaced it with a passing grade. But Mr. Channing has a number of conditions to prevent him from delaying or reneging on the balance of his capital contributions. He demands satisfaction. . . in the form of punishment." The Dean noticed Janice's chest rising and falling. "First, he's asked me to administer your first discipline session, in order to determine your. . . tolerances and. . . aptitudes." She flushed but kept her hands behind her waist and legs spread. "Second, he's demanded that Dougie be taught how to discipline a woman." She swayed at this incredibly demeaning condition: to be whipped by that short smart-ass. "And third, he's insisted on meeting you, so he can inflict the next session himself." The Dean saw no need to mention that Mr. Channing had already seen the hot beauty at a school play and knew immediately that he had to have her. Janice's failing grade for Doug had worked into his craving quite nicely. Failure is Not an Option Ch. 01 The Dean paused, noting how deeply humiliated she looked, but not overlooking her obvious excitement. She looked up at him imploringly. "Mr. Channing's terms are non-negotiable. Do you accept? If not, I have no recourse but to dismiss you—without a reference." "Yes, Dean, I accept. When is my first. . . session?" "A week from today, same time." He needed to begin testing her. "For now, I want you to get down on your hands and knees and clean up that mess." Meekly, she stood. "And take off your skirt or it will get wet on the floor." Slowly, she unbuttoned the skirt and unwrapped it from a hip, exposing her sheer panties, taut belly and long toned legs, still spread wide. "Beautiful," he murmured, extending his arm to trace the marks on her thighs. She jumped at his touch but did not break her posture. "These look recent. From when?" "J – just before I left home to move here. Six or eight weeks ago, I guess." He grabbed her hips and turned her around, running his fingertips over the marks on her rear thighs. "Did your boyfriend do this?" She shook her head. "I–I don't have a boyfriend." He grabbed the waistband of the expensive panties and slowly pulled them down to below her ass. She gasped. Instead of his fingertips, he placed his entire hand on the warm, striated flesh. "You're still being punished at the age of 26 by your father?" She didn't say anything. "You said he stopped when your parents divorced." "He did, because I lived with my mother. But then she remarried and moved out-of-state. So when I received my teaching diploma, I moved back in with my father and brother till I could find a job." "Speaking of your brother, you never answered my question earlier: Did your father punish your brother?" "No sir," she said nervously. She changed the subject as she had before, a pattern of evasion that did not go unnoticed. He was now more convinced than ever that her father indulged in more than just punishment. Perhaps the father had given the brother rights to her as well? "Could I please clean up the spill now?" "Certainly." He pulled the panty back up, covering the marks on her luscious ass. "There's a janitor's closet down the hall." She reached for her blouse and skirt. "Those won't be necessary." Cringing with embarrassment, he watched the skittish, long legged beauty open the office door and scamper out the anteroom into the hallway. She was back in less than a minute, flushed with embarrassment and nervousness, clutching a handful of rags. Once she was on her hands and knees, mopping up the water from around the sofa and under the coffee table, he kicked her heels so she would keep her legs spread wide and walked around to face her front, admiring the heavy tits hanging and swaying in the low-cut demi bra. When she finished, he said, "Come over to the desk but don't get up." Humiliated, the dark-featured beauty crawled over to his desk and had the presence to kneel, legs spread with her arms in position. "She'd obviously been trained, probably by her father." He admired the striped thighs and heaving tits with their fattened nipples. Now he could see her pussy perfectly, the bulging lips pressed up against the tight, transparent fabric that was darkened by heavy moisture. He realized she must be a submissive who got off on humiliation. Next week would reveal her capacity for pain and skills as a slut. "That will be all for today, Ms. Slatter. Be here same time next Friday. And don't forget that you will receive three punishments: two for your behavior today and another on Mr. Channing's behalf." Crestfallen, she stood, having assumed that the Dean would make her service him, at the least with a blowjob. To delay her departure, she asked, "What is Mr. Channing like?" The Dean thought for a moment. "He's a big guy, with a big paunch, a big balding head, a big mansion and a big fortune. He can be very dominating and demanding." She collected her sodden blouse and skirt and walked haltingly to the door, her drenched pussy burning with desire. She turned around as if she was reluctant to leave just yet. She flicked her huge hazel eyes at him. "Is there anything you want me to wear next Friday? Or bring?" "Yes. Wear a shelf bra, not a half-cup like today. I will decide on which implement or implements to use. And you will be gagged to ensure our privacy." She seemed to take that information in stride. "Yes, Dean. Thank you, sir, for your patience and . . . and your guidance. And thank you for not dismissing me. I won't disappoint you." "You're welcome, but it's more important that you thank me after your punishment. And I have no doubt that you won't disappoint me. But Mr. Channing is a far stricter taskmaster." She left apprehensively, closing the door behind her, oblivious that her forehead, cheek and chin were still smeared with drying precum. Failure is Not an Option Ch. 02 It was an unusually feverish week for Janice Slatter. The nubile young schoolteacher was distracted during classes. She spent much of her spare time working out. Every night she would collapse into bed no earlier than 1:00 or 2:00 am and bring herself off, dreaming about her punishments from the Dean and Mr. Channing, finally falling asleep from exhaustion. By Friday, another blazingly hot day, she was so distraught her students wondered if she was ill. She had taken pains to get a manicure and pedicure and to dress carefully. At 4:30, she knocked on the Dean's door. He'd been careful to open the window only partway, so it was even hotter than during their first meeting at the beginning of the week. After a lengthy pause, he said in a stern voice, "Come in." Gingerly, she inched open the door. The Dean raised his arm, pointing to the wall clock, which read 4:40. Surprised, she glanced at her watch to see it was ten minutes slow. "I'm sorry for being late, Dean," she said as she walked to his desk. Despite the heat, a shiver ran through her as she noted a two and a half foot willow switch, a riding crop and a tawse lying along the front edge of the desk, just inches from her groin. She immediately grew excited. He noted the short dark bolero jacket over a sheer white blouse and glanced at the full, pleated dark skirt over gray stockings. "Make us a couple of drinks on the rocks, Miss Slatter," he said, pointing to the sideboard. "Doubles." "Thank you sir," she said, walking to the bar. She prepared the cocktails and walked back to his desk, handed him his drink and he raised his hand to toast. "To knowledge followed by experience." Janice nodded and drank. "Mmm," she said, "that's refreshing." Her eyes kept darting to the instruments of punishment. "Yes, it's excellent vodka." She took another swallow of her smooth vodka, set down the glass, unbuttoned the jacket, stripped it off and spread her legs, arms clasped behind her back. Her white blouse was again quite sheer, this time revealing a charcoal gray bra. She looked more stacked than he remembered, about a 35B. And it was obvious that she wore a ¼ cup bra, judging from the large areola and swelling thick nipples, both as dark as the bra itself. "Well done, Miss Slatter. Have another drink." Gratefully, she swallowed a large gulp. "Have you been beaten with these devices before?" She shook her head. "No sir, only with a belt and a whip." "Let's begin. Take off the blouse." She complied, cringing as her heavy tits and arousd nipples were revealed, not in the privacy of her darkened bedroom, but the Dean's office. Inadvertently, he gasped as the perfect, smooth flesh was revealed, with the darkest, thickest and longest nipples he'd ever seen. He imagined her perfection enhanced by whip marks, clamps and chains. "You are beautiful. Now raise your skirt to your waist and tuck it in. She pulled up the full skirt revealing the stunning legs, thighs and high-top stockings. Like last week, her panties were tight and sheer, the thick labia bulging against the confining lingerie. "Pull your panties down to your knees." There was an obscene sucking sound as the panties were extracted from her wet slit and lowered to knee height. Freed from confinement, the glistening lips hung prominently, begging – along with the incredible nipples – to be clamped, weighted and permanently stretched. She was carefully, thoroughly shaved smooth except for a token strip only two inches high and less than an inch wide. "Lean over on the desk." She rested her forearms on the dark, polished wood, her ass jutting out. He opened a desk drawer and removed several objects: two sets of clamps, a ball gag and a camera. "Mr. Channing requested photos of our session," he explained. "Have you worn clamps before?" She nodded. "Yes sir, but never ones as large and heavy as those." He picked up the tawse, sat on the desk edge and casually and quickly struck her left breast. The black leather smashed into the flesh. She gasped but remained still, a wide reddened mark appearing on the olive skin. He grasped the tit and squeezed it to soothe the pain. She flinched when he touched the tit but her lips soon parted in pleasure. He stood and slammed the thick leather into one ass cheek and then the other, following the strikes with caresses. "Uhhh!" she'd exclaimed when hit. Then he hit her other tit. "Uhhh!" By now her wide mouth was fully open, her entire body coated with a light film of perspiration. "Very good, Ms. Slatter. Your body has a high tolerance for pain. Now, let's move up to a more serious implement." He took the switch and swiped her back, hard. "Ugghhh!" she grunted, panting. He struck her ass three times as she moaned more loudly. "It's time for soundproofing." He raised the ball gag to her face and she dutifully opened her big sensuous mouth, but he realized the gag was too small. He switched it for a much larger one that he pushed in, her full lips spreading obscenely around the red globe. He noticed her large eyes had begun to glaze over with pain and lust. Without warning, the Dean swung the switch, struck both thighs repeatedly and then moved to the inner thighs, cruelly striking higher and higher till he directly hit her heavily hanging lips, the switch curling up to lick her slit with pain. Finally, she yelled into the gag, slowly shaking her head from the stabbing pain, a strand of saliva seeping from behind the gag. He immediately stroked the burning greasy lips and thrust three fingers into her drenched quim. She groaned in relief. Removing his dripping fingers, he wiped the thick juice on her inner thighs as a humiliating mark of her arousal and wetness. The Dean roughly squeezed, pulled and twisted the dark chocolate nipples before sinking the cloverleaf clamps into the base of the stalks, delighting as the brute metal compressed the flesh between its pincers as more saliva dripped out of the young submissive's severely stretched mouth. Janice was becoming almost delirious with excitement. Never before had anyone worked her over as skillfully as the Dean. She'd been waiting years for a master like him, a man who totally understood her inner self, her most lurid cravings. A man who knew how to increase the pain and excitement till she was out of her mind with agony and lust. She was sure he'd take her today, but she wondered how much he'd force her to service his needs. Sure enough, the tips of the oversized nipples swelled to an even more obscene size. Squatting behind her, the Dean stroked and pulled the fleshy labia and tightly attached two heavy clamps, excited by the copious strands of juice descending her thighs and wetting the lace tops of the expensive stockings. Standing, he took a length of coarse brown packaging twine from the desk, cut it into two lengths, and tightly wrapped the base of each breast several times, till the heavy sweating globes jutted outward even more. He tied the ends of the twine to the two cloverleaf clamps, and to her surprise, secured the other ends to two drawer knobs on opposite sides of the desk. Carefully, he opened each drawer stretching the sweating tiflesh till she moaned in pain. The heavy breasts were pulled up, spread apart and painfully lengthened. She tried to control her breathing. He stood still admiring the tormented beauty, twin strands of saliva falling to his desktop. He repeated the process with the twine, knotting it to the pussy clamps and pulling the tortured lips several inches down and out till he knotted the twine onto small silver metal circles hanging from the stocking tops. She started muttering unintelligibly as he photographed her from all kinds of angles, remembering to get close-ups of the metal squeezing her. Once he recorded her face, drenched with sweat, huge eyes filled with pain and pleasure, her moth leaking steadily from the giant ball gag. He thought that Mr. Channing would be not only satisfied but excited as well. Then the Dean thoroughly cropped her lovely back, ass and thighs, followed by the fronts and tops of her distended magnificent tits, ending with a half dozen silent swats on her plump lengthened labia. Screaming, Janice came as she hadn't in a long time: shaking, thrashing, twisting, groaning and writhing in a massive climax so intense that she jerked a labia clamp off that crashed onto the floor. The Dean dropped his trousers and shorts and pushed between the hanging lips and sole remaining clamp, all the way deep into her grasping cunt. With one hand, he grabbed her damp short black hair and pulled her head back till he could see the ball gag and her frenzied face. With the other hand he grasped on the desktop for a nipple clamp and placed it on the huge dark nub, ramming into her pussy as he pushed and twisted the clamp, grotesquely abusing the tempting nipple. Before cumming, he pulled out, released the twine from the desk knobs, dragged her over to the coffee table, forced her to kneel and ripped out the ball gag. "What about your brother?" She shook her head in one last defiance. The Dean slapped both of her tits. "Well?" She nodded her head in defiance. He grabbed the crop and struck her vulva. Once her scream died down, she gasped, "He whipped me also." The Dean struck upward into her wet slit. She gasped, "They both fucked me. And gagged and clamped me. Both separate and together. And they DP'd me. Whenever they liked. They've used me since I was young." "That's what I figured." He shoved one hand into her pussy and stuck his juice-covered cock into her mouth. "Do not swallow!" he growled, before her expert, eager sucking made him flood her mouth with more and longer shots than he'd ever produced. Being a slut, she was able to hold all of his hot jizz in her big mouth. When he pulled out of her grasping lips, his fat cock left a trail of white spunk that dribbled out of her lips onto her chin. The remnants of his cum dripped down onto her marked tits, swollen nipples and swinging clamp. For the final humiliation and as a last test of her subjugation, he ordered her to open her mouth. Desperately trying to find the correct angle, so his cum would neither slide down her throat nor escape her lips, Janice eventually opened wide, revealing a small sea of thick white semen. He relished the obscenely degrading sight and reached for her empty cocktail glass. He held it under her mouth and told her to release it very slowly into the glass, pleased with her performance that afternoon. Carefully, she tilted her head and let the hot cum trickle into the glass, fully aware of how disgusting she must appear. But on another level she was intensely excited by the image she was presenting. It took a minute for the slimy pool to dribble out. When the last drop had fallen, she licked her cum-stained lips, relishing the taste. "Good. Now get dressed except for your bra and panties, but leave on all the clamps until you reach home." She jerked her face to his, horrified by that cruel demand, but said nothing. He watched as she gingerly put on her skirt and blouse, grimacing. "Now sit." He held out the cum-filled cocktail glass. She took it obediently, realizing she was even more humiliated to drink it when dressed. She drank the warm gunk, slowly but steadily. The Dean was silently overjoyed, aware that he had found what he'd been looking for these many years: a gorgeous, young, hot, impressionable sub reeking of sensuality, with a seemingly unlimited capacity for humiliation, bondage, sex and abasement. The fact that she was also a pain and cum slut made her seem too good to be true. And soon he would present his discovery to the wealthiest and most influential person in town, Mr. Channing. He realized that he was falling in love with this innocent looking sex toy. "I'm getting to be fond of you, you know." He stroked her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered. "Thank you sir. I like you a lot too." * * * The next week's session with her student, Doug – or Dougie, as he liked to be called – Channing was a huge relief to Janice. The Dean had been firm in repeatedly restraining the obnoxious senior from his desires and in setting reasonable parameters. Rather than appear braless, the Dean told Janice to wear a ¼-cup bra, but she never removed her blouse, the blinds were kept closed so the room was dim, Doug was permitted to use nothing but a flogger, and only on his nubile teacher's bare ass. Dougie whined for her to strip off her blouse so he could see her tits, and he pleaded for a blowjob, but the Dean was adamant in refusing to indulge any more of the boy's desires. The hot teacher was placed, bending over the rear of a padded leather easy chair. The Dean saw no need to fasten her ankles to the chair legs or silence her with a gag. She raised her skirt to the waist and pulled off her panties while Doug whistled and made gleeful catcalls. With his small cock tenting his pants, he applied a dozen hits with the flogger as Janice craftily wept and begged him to stop, apologizing profusely and praising him. Since the Dean had witnessed her enormous capacity for pain, he knew it was just an act. But the impressionable boy was completely convinced, his ego suitably swollen. And the Dean knew that Doug would not only brag about his prowess to his father, but would exaggerate as well, probably boasting that the errant teacher had sucked his cock. By the time Dougie left the Dean's office, after only twenty minutes, he was actually swaggering. In order to show her appreciation, Janice did perform a blowjob, but on the Dean, who then bound and fucked her. He'd been sorely tempted to cane his submissive, but had restrained himself. Mr. Channing would be much happier administering his corrections to an unmarked – or lightly marked – body, especially one as superb as the dark-haired and tawny skinned faculty member. Afterward, the Dean coached the sex-hungry teacher with the voracious appetite on her forthcoming session with Brian Channing, scheduled for Saturday night the following weekend. Channing, who was divorced, lived in a vulgar McMansion. The agenda would be cocktails in the living room followed by a light dinner, ending with a scene in the study. Dougie would be staying at a friend's house for the weekend, although Channing's butler would be present, as would the Dean. He advised Janice to act demure and innocent and warned her about Channing's sadistic and lustful tastes, much more severe than what the Dean had inflicted on her. "He is nothing if not predictable, so he'll probably use his favorite instrument, a quirt." Janice nodded. "I suggest you play up to his mercy and forgiveness, then scream and cry pitifully from his whipping, then worship him for giving you the honor of being fucked and forgiven by him." "Yes sir. And will you be watching?" "Mr. Channing is also fond of DP, in which he usually asks me to participate. Have you been double penetrated, Ms. Slatter?" She nodded mutely, blushing since she was also fond of the act. "I thought as much," the Dean said drily. "I'm glad you'll be there," she added. She realized how that comment could be misconstrued, so she clarified: "I mean, for the DP, Dean." He knew she was sincere. "I'm glad I'll be there as well. Frankly, Mr. Channing is a bit of a blustering blowhard, which of course is where Dougie gets his insufferable behavior." He didn't add that he was eager to see her used by another man, even one as craven, greedy and sadistic as Brian Channing. The Dean gave Janice $1,000 to spend on lingerie, clothing, and shoes, and recommended several stores. His instructions on clothes were explicit: an imported demi-bra, panty, stocking and garter set, but more lewd and provocative than she usually wore. She must wear a long skirt with high slits and a very tight thin blouse. "I know you won't disappoint me, Ms. Slatter. The fate of the campus center resides with you. And if you perform exceptionally well, there just might be a reward for you." "Oh? What kind of reward?" "All in good time, Ms. Slatter. All in good time." Failure is Not an Option Ch. 03 On a cloudy, pre-storm Saturday afternoon, Janice attended carefully to her makeup, hair and clothing. She shuddered, imagining how much the blustering Mr. Channing would make her do, picturing the DP that the Dean had predicted. When she wondered if she would be made to service the butler, she was reminded of what a cock-hungry, debased sub slut she was. And she knew that if she displeased Mr. Channing, her career at Kelten – and her relationship with the Dean, whom she regarded as her true Master – would be summarily over. She dreaded the shame and humiliation of moving back in with her father and brother, a failure at her first real job since graduation with her teacher's certification. And they would certainly punish her viciously for being fired. The Dean picked her up at 5:00 pm and they drove to a hill on the outskirts of town, where Channing's mansion was situated with a commanding view. The sky became darker and the wind picked up. Unsurprisingly, the house was huge but cold and charmless. As they stood under the portico, wind whipping the full-leafed trees, large splatters of rain dropped. The butler answered the door and greeted the Dean respectfully, but gave Janice a brazenly open, lustful appraisal until the Dean introduced him as "Willum." They were ushered into the foyer. Janice shuddered, turning away from the butler's scrawny frame, sunken cheeks, pasty skin, probing eyes and generally cadaverous appearance. He took their raincoats with his long, bony, arthritically crooked fingers and led them to the luxuriously appointed living room. "Please remain standing," Willum said to Janice, who stood directly facing the Dean, who sat on a plush chair. Apprehensive, Janice stood in the classic Kelten posture. Practically salivating, the butler examined her and unbuttoned several buttons of her too-tight blouse (intentionally a size too small) until her cleavage showed. Brazenly, he lifted each tit to appraise its weight and size, Janice cringing with shame. Willum took up a poker from the fireplace, inserted it between her widespread legs and lifted till her stocking tops and panties were exposed. Her humiliation swelled at the site of Willum's gloating face and feverish eyes. He departed – scuttling away, practically wringing his hands with glee – to fetch his master. In a few minutes Channing barged in, full of fierce energy, with the weird Willum trailing. Channing was big and tall – well over six feet – and going to fat, with a receding hairline, reddish complexion, big cheeks and a bullying manner. The lord of the castle and keeper of the realm (the town). He clapped the Dean on the back as he was introduced to the docile schoolteacher. He grasped her chin with his meaty hands, turning her head to different angles as if he was examining a potential possession. "I can't say that you look better than the photos the Dean sent me, but you look good." "Thank you, Mr. Channing," Janice politely replied, coloring. "He sure knows how to stretch a pair of tits!" Channing chortled, roughly squeezing her titflesh. He ran his wide, blunt thumb over her thick lips. "Now that I see that sexy mouth of yours, I can see why he used such a big ball gag for it!" Was he always this crude? she wondered. "Drinks, Willum," the master ordered. Channing looked at the long leg and stocking exposed by the slit skirt, and separated the fabric until the stocking top and garter were showing. "Hmmm. Very nice. Now bend over." He pushed down on her lower back till it was horizontal and brusquely raised the skirt to her waist, admiring her gorgeous legs and toned ass, partly revealed by the skimpy black panties. Janice looked at the Dean, her expression saying that the reason why she was cooperating with this jerk was out of obedience to the Dean, her master. She glanced at Willum, standing in the corner, and felt ashamed to be seen in this subservient position by a servant. He stared at her ass, gloating. Without warning, Channing slammed one of his meaty paws into her ass. Unprepared, Janice stumbled, wincing from the brute force. "I like," he chuckled. "Good," the Dean said. "I figured you would. After all, she's remarkable." Channing told Willum to throw a couple of thick pillows on the floor and said, "Kneel." Janice obeyed, sinking down before the roaring fireplace. Willum handed around the drinks, including a triple vodka for the contrite teacher, while Channing lectured. "Ms. Slatter, there have been Channings at Kelten for decades. We don't intend to let a new upstart dictate to us, even a fine young specimen like yourself, do you understand?" "Yes sir." He signaled to Willum and pointed at Janice, twirling his finger in a gesture that Willum understood. "Yes sir. I understand and I apologize for my poor judgment and rash behavior."The butler bent over Janice and unbuttoned her blouse, roughly stripping it off her shoulders. For a moment Channing was silent, struck by her spectacular shoulders, silken skin, flat stomach and superb, hefty tits encased in a slutty but expensive bra. "Hmmmph," Channing grunted. Willum undid the skirt and awkwardly pulled it off, even though Janice was kneeling. "Dean, if you please," Channing ordered. The Dean stood up and began photographing the half-nude hottie. "Thank you for giving me this opportunity," she said, as rehearsed with the Dean. Channing stared at the splendid thighs and stockings, the low-cut panties that barely covered her bulging mound. "I accept my punishment and only hope that I will please you. Please hurt me as you see fit." "Well then," Channing said, mollified by her sensuality and docility. "Drink up. Dougie was pleased by his session with you, so let's see." Standing in front of her, his groin in front of her, he unzipped his pants and pulled out a long, thick, ugly cock. Janice held it and slowly began licking while she undid his belt. Once his pants fell, she pulled down his shorts and fondled his big balls, looking up admiringly. Channing grunted at the sight of her long eyelashes and large eyes staring up obediently and admiringly as she licked and kissed. In his mind, she adored his huge cock. He became even harder as her thick lips spread obscenely around his cockhead and took it in her mouth, moaning "Hmmmm!" with feigned excitement. She was dimly aware of the Dean photographing her as she slobbered over the shaft and sucked it. Too impatient to wait, Channing grabbed her ears and began brutally fucking her face. Shouting and calling her names like "Slut!" and "Whore," he found himself on the brink of orgasm only a minute later, faster than with anyone she'd sucked before. He pulled out and she pumped his shaft till it exploded, shooting an opening spurt onto her forehead. Janice felt the impact as the huge shot smacked into her, followed by a second salvo that splattered onto her nose. She gasped as more massive wads struck her cheeks. Channing kept firing away without slowing down or decreasing in amount. Finally, after ten or twelve long bursts, he was finished. Janice was in shock, much of her black hair and her entire face coated with thick globs of his jism, oddly colored in a sickly yellow. His gunk didn't drip down her, it streamed off her forehead, eyebrows, nose, cheeks and chin in multiple streams, splashing onto her chest and tits, with long stringy ropes hanging from her chin and nipples down to her thighs, splotching the black stockings with spreading clumps of hot spunk. Channing staggered back and collapsed in a chair, eyeing the obscenely drenched dark beauty. "Not bad," he grudgingly admitted. "You're not to disturb any of my semen before or during dinner, understand?" Still stunned by the bukkake-like amount, cringing with shame at the image she presented, Janice nodded, her pussy spasming with excitement from this degrading treatment, the Dean recording the lurid dripping. The only sounds were the fire, the wind, the heavy breathing of Channing and Janice, and the relentless clicking of the camera shutter. She couldn't avoid the specter of Willum, hovering in the shadowed corner, his eyes gleaming, grinning gleefully about her abasement. * * * Brian Channing reclined at the head of the dining room table, the Dean on one side of him, Janice Slatter on the other, and the servant in attendance. Gobs of warm yellowish cum were still dripping off her inundated face and tits, landing on the gleaming wooden table. She was grateful for her second cocktail – another triple, although she was further humiliated by drinking it through a straw so she wouldn't disturb her thickly coated face. "Willum, I think it's about time we saw her tits." The creepy butler emerged from the shadows and, knowing his employer's preferences, pulled down the sexy 1/4–cup bra till the punished teacher's tits were fully exposed. "My God!" Channing cried. Although he'd seen Janice's large dark areola and jutting nipples in the photos, he was struck anew by seeing their size and darkness in person. He stared as more of his cum slid down her tits onto her dusky areoles and nipples, the yellowish clumps in obscene contrast to the dark flesh. "Pull them," he ordered. Excited despite herself, the servile schoolteacher grasped a greasy stiff nipple between each forefinger and thumb and extended the stalks, which were much thicker than a pencil, by a half-inch. The Dean took a photo. "More." She stretched them another half-inch, tears welling in her eyes, as the Dean zoomed in and snapped a close-up. Channing grunted in satisfaction and she released the tortured nubs. He ordered Willum to bring "the devices." Willum opened a drawer in the sideboard and removed several items that he placed on the table. Janice's eyes widened as she saw a black leather bondage harness, a long, thick, black double dildo, three transparent, three-inch nipple pump cylinders and a metal nipple extender. Her cunt flooded with excitement at this display of devices for breast discipline. The harness included two adjustable leather bands for constricting the base of the breasts. Evilly, they were lined with the coarsest sandpaper she'd ever seen. Channing began beating off. Willum undid her soggy bra, covered with clumps of cum, and pulled it off, freeing the cum-coated breasts. "Stand up and lean over," Channing said. Janice did so and Channing struck each of her swaying tits three times with his meaty hnds as she cried out. When he struck, gobs of cum flew off, some of which splattered onto the heavily waxed table. "Now sit." As soon as she was back in her chair, Willum slid the harness shoulder straps up her arms and fastened the leather extremely tightly, raising the heavy flesh. He then tightened leather bands lined with sandpaper around the base of her tits. He cinched each of the leather bands until Janice moaned, the sandpaper abrading the sensitive flesh, the abused tits bulging distortedly. She flushed with growing arousal as the three men ogled the tit torture. "She can start on you now, Willum." Pleased, Willum tore off his pants and underwear faster than Janice could have imagined. She tried to avert her gaze from his thin thighs and gaunt, scraggly legs. He lifted his thin, pale prick to her. Grimacing at the long length of his crooked appendage, she gathered up a handful of cum from her chest and used it as lubricant, stroking his scraggy prick. Grinning, Willum grasped one greasy tit and lifted it, as if inspecting a purchase at the grocer. He placed one of the pumps over a throbbing nipple and pumped enough to secure a firm hold, eliciting an outcry from the offending teacher while the sickly yellowed sauce smeared the insides of the tube. Janice was as absorbed in the display as Channing, now wanking himself faster, egged on Willum, while the Dean shot photos throughout. Willum repeated the application of the pump to the second nipple, grossly distorting the already huge nipple. He then pushed back her chair, pulled her legs apart and up and draped them over the armrests. Willum grabbed her slick, thick pussy lips and roughly spread them open, grabbing the biggest clit he'd ever seen and mechanically squeezing and cruelly pulling. He heartlessly ignored the sub's gasps of pain and arousal. Once her clit had swollen from his fingers, he scraped his master's discharge off the beauty's thighs, smacked it onto the inflamed protuberance and stuck the third pump on it. Janice was amazed to be sitting at this beautiful table, the room illuminated by dozens of candles in heavy candelabra, the clit and the big thick nipples she was both ashamed and proud of encased in clear plastic cylinders that jutted straight outward. Before the pain worsened, she finished her second triple vodka, careful not to knock the glass into one of the dangling, swaying pumps. While she drank, Channing stood up next to her, pumping his meat. Willum had lubed the anal part of the dildo. Grabbing her short hair, Willum shoved the dongs into both of her holes. He smirked when she took them both quickly and easily. Janice swooned as the thick dicks plugged her cunt and ass, rotating her hips and squirming to force them as far up her as possible. She smeared more cum on her other hand and began shafting Channing's dick, so thick and heavy compared to his servant's, as Channing chanted obscenities next to her. Willum connected three leather straps from the base of each pump to the leather band squeezing the base of each breast, anchoring each pump to the aureole it pressed into. He began slowly pumping. Each of the four people gazed in fascination as the nipple and aureole were inexorably drawn up the tube, Channing's spooge smearing the plastic sides of the cylinders, Janice gritting her teeth and wheezing in pain as Willum gleefully pushed the pumps at the tips. The aureole began elongating and distorting from the pressure by a half-inch and then a full inch as she began thrusting up and down on the dildos. With more pumping, the heavy nipples started to extend a half-inch and then a full inch. Then Willum activated the clit pump, till her reddened stalk was sucked over an inch into the cylinder, stopping only when she screamed in pain and panic, reaching her first climax of the evening, grunting gutturally and swinging her head in swooning arcs. There was more. Willum placed the metal base of the nipple extender's rod against her breastbone. At a right angle to it was another rod, whose height could be adjusted, from which dangled two clamps. He briefly adjusted the distance of the cross piece, moving it slightly closer to her, and attached the clamps to the ends of the nipple pumps. He began tightening the cords that attached the clamps to the crosspiece as the cum-drenched sub's tits were lifted and pulled from her chest. The nipple pumps retained their hold because of the straps that anchored them to the leather bands at the base of her breasts. The Dean was shooting rapidly to record every angle and moment of the fetishized pain slut, apparently enjoying all the bizarre devices and being the centerpiece of such depravity. As if that wasn't enough, Channing and Willum began striking her tits, belly and inner thighs with thin quirts. Even to a cum- and pain-slut like Janice, the amazing view of her mercilessly tortured, stretched and cum-spattered tits, now striped with livid weals, plus her imprisoned and barbarically stretched, cum-smeared nipples was so bizarre and so obscenely debauched that she was catapulted into an overwhelming orgasm, so violent and all-consuming that her heavy chair swayed and tottered. Channing and Willum let loose at almost the same time, Channing's discharge arcing high up into the air, spreading in scope and raining down on the crazed sub as her massive climax continued. The Dean actually heard the heavy clumps of cum landing on the plastic nipple pumps and saw the globules splash onto her black hair as the frenzied slut whipped her head around. The Dean realized the nipple pumps were now streaked with cum inside and out, which he dutifully remembered to photograph. His gaze shifted as Willum came, his watery discharge maliciously aimed to hose Janice's face up and down and her freakishly stretched tits. Spent, Channing crashed into his chair and Willum staggered off to the kitchen. Their hard-pressed sub seemed semiconscious at best, her head hanging down, mouth slack, a trickle of saliva mixing with three loads of cum on her lips and chin. It was left to the Dean to first release the nasty suction of the nipple pumps and to slacken the taut cords on the monstrous clamps. However, neither the swollen nipples, aureole nor tits returned to their normal size, remaining engorged and inflamed. Channing roughly massaged the sore, striped tits and nipples. Janice stirred as fresh pain flooded into her from the circulation of blood. The Dean loosened and removed the breast base bands, wincing at the reddened flesh from the coarse sandpaper beneath. He left the double dildo inside her, wondering how she could bear up so well to satisfy Channing's sordid lusts and gluttonous appetites. Act I was over. * * * About a half hour afterward, the intermission was over and Dean and Willum half-dragged the stuporous young slut schoolteacher and bound Janice to an overhead bar. Willum bound her ankles as far apart as possible. Behind her, she had left a disgusting trail of cum on the beautiful floor. Willum held a brandy snifter beneath her nose to revive her. He gripped her hair, raised her head and poured a large swallow of expensive, well-aged brandy into her mouth as dried cum cracked in the corners of her lips and drifted to the floor. Groggily, Janice thought she was almost relieved to have the breast discipline over and the flogging about to begin. Channing strode in, now naked and freshly energized, flogger in hand. Without any ado, he struck the suspended woman's smooth back and strong shoulders, working down to the tempting ass that was still embedded with the dildo. He enthusiastically applied a dozen vicious strokes till her rear side was well-marked, while the Dean administered another dozen floggings to her tits, belly and thighs. The expensive stocking tops became shredded, a look that Channing liked. A heavy coat of sweat mingled with the layers of drying cum. She moaned ever more loudly as they worked their way across her body. Soon Janice's moans became groans. Willum removed the double dildo to Janice's protests. She felt some relief when Channing fingered her slit and abused her fat clit, putting the flogger between her stretched legs and swinging the instrument into her bare lips about a dozen times till she came a third time, screaming and jerking, her beautiful body now a grotesque mess of welts, cum and sweat and pussy juice. When Channing's arm tired, he said, "Are you ready Dean?" "Yes sir." The Dean stripped off his clothes. Channing lay down on his back on the floor as Willum positioned Janice above him, lowering the bar till the freshly flogged sub was astride the big man, his gross belly protruding. She sank onto his cock and he ordered her to do pull-ups on the bar, so she did all the work of fucking. Channing signaled to the Dean, who pushed down on her whipped back till her bruised breasts pushed into Channing's chest, exposing her ass. Willum spread her cheeks and the Dean pushed his well-lubed cock into her dark ring of flesh. Janice's head shot up. "Aahhhh!" she yelled at the double penetration, relishing the ecstasy as the two cocks began pounding her. Willum moved to her face and rammed his long cock into her mouth, smashing a tawse into her aching tits and inflamed nipples. They lied, she thought dimly. The DP had become a TP. It took less than five minutes before all three men erupted, filling all of her with cum. She grimaced at the taste of Willum's sour semen filling her mouth, but held it there. Since it was the Dean's first discharge of the day, her ass soon overflowed with his outpouring. When he pulled out, a thick white stream immediately poured out of her dusky charcoal ring. He immediately resumed taking photos. The ever-efficient Willum placed a bowl under her holes to catch the Dean's discharge as well as Channing's, who had by now withdrawn from her cunt. Willum stuck a martini glass under Janice's chin and the barely conscious brunette dropped his gruel-like jizz into the receptacle. She hung from the crossbar, the firelight flickering over her ravaged body, cum streaming from three places. Failure is Not an Option Ch. 03 Channing stood and was enclosed in a silk robe by Willum, who proffered a cigar box and brandy. The wealthy man drank and smoked. "Congratulations, Dean. She's the best ever. You may consider the incident with Dougie closed. I'll have a check for the campus center messengered to your office Monday morning." "Thank you, Brian." Now that Janice was no longer listening, he was using Channing's first name. The Dean set down the camera and relaxed, considering what he would inflict on the docile slut – and under what pretext – during their next session. But conducting sessions in his office had its limits. He knew he would use a large thick penis gag on her erotic mouth, so perfect for and talented at sucking cock. Of course, he would fill it with hot cum so she could hydrate herself while in bondage for a prolonged period. Perhaps he would order her to his house this Friday evening and make it a permanent arrangement on weekends, keeping her clothed in the appropriate lingerie and bondage gear, of course. And granting her a stipend from the Entertainment Fund so she would attend to the Executive Committee during its quarterly meetings. As he was driving the sleeping beauty back to her apartment, he opened the old trench coat of Willum's that they'd borrowed for her, exposing the naked body beneath, her tits, belly, mound and thighs riddled with crisscrossed marks and encrusted with drying fluids. He pushed her legs apart till her cum-flecked pussy was wantonly displayed. The harsh light flashing down on her from the street lights made her lax, prostrate form look deplorably, luridly licentious. He noticed how, even asleep, her dark sticky nipples and fleshy clit stood out so sluttily and conspicuously. Idly, he toyed with them. An exciting idea occurred to the Dean. Perhaps her father and brother would like to visit town for the weekend? After all, it was a lovely destination, popular with tourists. Janice could give her relatives a tour of the sights on Saturday and even invite them for Saturday dinner at the Dean's place, followed by her as the entertainment. He wondered what their particular practices were with her, what hurtful instruments and degenerate techniques they'd developed over ten years with their voluptuous, insatiable and compliant daughter and sister. Perhaps they'd enjoy a triple penetration? Yes, it was sounding better and better. Why not Thanksgiving weekend? First, he'd tell them how well he thought of Janice, how excitingly she was. . . performing at Kelten, how he had her career in mind, but that she'd committed certain infractions of school policy and how he sought their experience and wisdom in correcting her behavior. She'd be available to them in the discreet privacy of the Dean's beautiful home. He'd send them a pair of first-class tickets, book them into a suite at the best hotel and urge them to bring whatever disciplinary items they thought would keep her in line. Their punishment, under the Dean's supervision since she was on his staff, should be as harsh and as prolonged as they deemed necessary. Of course, Janice would object strenuously to the entire plan. But he knew how deeply excited she'd be by imagining the overwhelming shame and utter depravity of such a shockingly perverted weekend. He would have to persuade her by adding weights to her nipple and labia clamps, so he could stretch them beyond their already protuberant length and convince her with fresh levels of suffering and release. If she cooperated fully for the three men, she'd be rewarded with a prize, perhaps replacing her cheap clunker car with that sporty ragtop that the Dean hardly ever drove anymore. He guessed she'd never been to France, so maybe they'd spend winter break together in France at the Chateau. She was sure to be a sensation there. Yes, there would be a wealth of possibilities. He smiled. When Janice awoke late Sunday morning, it took her groggy mind several seconds to realize that she'd been tied up all night. The Dean had fastened her wrists together and each ankle was attached to a bedpost. He'd plugged her butt and deposited a fresh load of cum across her face, bondage harness, tits, belly and mound. Her fresh welts hurt all over, her tits ached and her labia were still red and swollen. The Dean had positioned her closet door so its full-length mirror reflected her ravaged and filthy body. Staring, without undoing the loose bonds on her wrists, she plunged two fingers into her twat and punished her sore clit with her thumb till she came, reliving all of the disgusting details of last night's brutal subjugation in explicit, drawn-out detail. She wondered whether she would have another spoiled student to fail in the fall semester, a vindictive boy who also had a powerful, domineering and vengeful father. . . .