Parker: Teachers Ransom 3

The next few days passed very slowly for Marion.

Each one began in the same way: she would wake up cold and stiff in her garage kennel. Sometimes Jimmy or one of the other men would come and take her out in the morning. Other times, she would be forced to wait for them, huddled on the cement floor, her slender neck encircled by the rough leather dog collar.

Her collar.

It wasn't locked on; she could have removed it at any time.

But she didn't.

On those occasions where she wasn't released in the morning, the pressure on her bladder would often force her to relieve herself in her kennel. The humiliation never lessened, but she quickly became adept at stretching her body and lifting her leg so that she could let loose a stream of piss without getting too much of it on herself. And her keepers made certain that there was always fresh newspaper on the ground.

Once released from her kennel, she was led into the house to the bathroom where she would shower, brush her hair and apply makeup. Angela was constantly critical of the way in which Marion wore makeup, and the blonde woman was quickly "convinced" to change her style. By the end of the third day, she was wearing rather a good deal more than she was used to wearing, but if it prevented a caning... well, it was worth it.

And each day, a new set of clothing was laid out in the bathroom, waiting for the captive school teacher to put it on. Tight corsets; various types of stockings; push-up bras, half-cup bras, see-through bras; crotchless panties; leather mini-skirts... always changing, always something new. Again, it was clothing she would never have dreamt of wearing if she had the choice, but, of course, she didn't have that choice. The only constant was the collar.

Once properly dressed and made up, she would be inspected by Angela and then her day would begin in earnest. Much of her time, of course, was spent fucking and sucking. Besides Angela and Jimmy, there were three other men who were part of the kidnapping. Before Marion lost track late on the afternoon of the third day, she figured that she was satisfying each of them at least twice a day, usually with Angela watching and giving orders and instructions. Often, Angela would punctuate those commands with the cane.

With the redhead's "encouragement", the blonde school teacher quickly became proficient at the art of satisfying men with her mouth and pussy, fucking and sucking more in those several days than she had in the previous two years of her marriage with Donald. At least, it seemed like it. Perhaps the worst thing about it was the fact that Angela was never satisfied with Marion's efforts unless the blonde woman came. Hence, Marion repeatedly found herself forced to masturbate to orgasm while performing the most disgusting acts. And, in between the sex, Angela frequently forced her captive to play with herself. It took a few episodes with the cane, but Marion gradually learned not only to obey when Angela ordered her to come, but also that Angela was quite able to tell when she was faking it, often with very painful results. The blonde woman thus spent hours crouched at Angela's feet, masturbating herself to orgasm after humiliating orgasm while the redhead read a book or watched television.

By the end of each day, her pussy lips were red and swollen from all the attention they were getting, but she kept having orgasms. After a while, it began to get easier and easier to make herself come, and, eventually, the feelings of lust never entirely left her burning, aching pussy. Sometimes, late a night, alone and chained in the hard darkness of her kennel, Marion would masturbate herself to orgasm. She cried as she did so, wondering what she was turning into, but she still did it. It was her only source of pleasure, of comfort.

As well as the sex, Angela also forced her unwilling pupil to learn and practice a number of humiliating poses, positions, mannerisms and gestures. Under the threat of the cane, Marion was forced to learn how to walk in the increasingly precarious pumps, her hips swaying and breasts thrust out in an inviting fashion. She learned how to giggle like a bimbo every time her mistress attempted the lamest joke. She was taught how to squat on her heels, knees spread and hands clasped behind her neck, awaiting orders. And, worst of all, Marion was trained to hold the position she had learned on the first day, bent over with her hands grasping her ankles while the cane was brought down onto her ass. This one was a favourite of Angela's, and Marion got lots of practice. Her pussy was not the only part of her body that was regularly red and swollen when she was locked into her kennel for the night.

While her training continued, Marion was kept in the dark about what was happening with the kidnapper's attempts to ransom Sheila. She saw the teenager once in a while - she was kept chained to a bed in the small bedroom - but was never allowed to talk with her. Besides a black eye and a bruised, sullen expression, the girl seemed largely unharmed, for which Marion was thankful. Despite all that had happened, Marion still felt an elder's - a teacher's - protectiveness towards the girl. One of the things - in fact, only thing - that allowed her to bear her torments was the idea that by taking the kidnapper's abuse, she was somehow protecting the teenager.

One morning, just over a week after the original kidnapping, Marion entered the living room to find a very grim looking Jimmy awaiting her. Angela was also there, also looking very sullen and angry. They looked like they had been arguing. Trembling, the blonde woman assumed the squatting position she had been taught, and awaited events. She'd learned not to ask questions.

"Hello Darling," Angela growled, obviously angry about something.

"Good morning mistress." Marion kept her eyes cast downward. Her voice trembled; Angela's anger usually meant the cane.

"We've got a problem." The redhead began pacing, walking slowly around her frightened, squatting captive. "Apparently your husband didn't believe your letter. He's raised a fuss with the cops, and they're beginning to put two and two together. That's attention we don't need. Do you understand?"

"Yes mistress." The blonde woman didn't really understand how anything Donald was doing could affect her kidnappers, but she was too frightened to question the redhead. In fact, she wasn't really listening. Marion's entire attention was focussed on the cane which Angela was carrying in her hand. She couldn't take her eyes off it.

"Jimmy's solution," Angela continued, "is the same as before. He wants to cut off the loose ends." Marion shuddered; she knew what that meant. "He and I..." Angela glanced angrily across the room at her partner, "... we've had a 'discussion' about it. We disagree, but I convinced him - not by much, mind you - that there's a better way to solve the problem. A less drastic way."

Jimmy snorted from the other side of the room.

The redhead stopped pacing and stood directly in front of the trembling blonde. "You do want that, don't you Darling?" She grasped the squatting woman's cheeks in her hand and turned her face upwards. "You don't want us to use drastic measures?"

Marion again found herself fighting back tears. "No mistress. Please... what can I do?"

The redhead shot a satisfied grin over at her partner as she released her captive's face.

"I'll tell you..."

And she told her.

Angela's plan was simple. It involved having Marion appear in public. She thought that her captive's husband might be convinced that the letter was real if Marion was seen in public with another man, or men, dancing and laughing and generally having fun. She also thought that it would be fun to humiliate the blonde woman in a public place. Jimmy expressed the opinion that it was too risky, but Angela countered with the fact that they would still have Sheila at the house. She made it very clear to Marion that should the blonde woman attempt to escape, the first person to suffer would be the teenager. And, considering the alternatives...

Marion got the picture.

And so, that same night Marion was dressed in real clothing for the first time in over a week. Not clothing she would have chosen to wear on her own, of course, but clothing nonetheless. Treating her like a living barbie doll, the redhead dressed her captive up in a tight, black tube dress that barely covered the bottom curve of her ass and the upper curve of her breasts. Sheer, white stockings ran from just under the hem of the skirt to her feet. Six inch pumps and lots of dangling silver jewellery completed the outfit.

Almost.

The collar remained.

Marion put her hand expectantly to it, but Angela just smirked and said that the collar wouldn't be out of place where they were going. Silent and submissive, Marion let them dress her up, just as though she were a barbie doll. Her thoughts were a jumble of confusion. The thought of going out in public both terrified and exhilarated her. The chance of escape! But, of course, there was Sheila.

At last, Angela was happy with Marion's appearance.

"Perfect," she pronounced, dragging her blonde dress-up doll in front of the bathroom mirror. "Darling's quite the little club slut."

The blonde woman stared silently at her reflection in the mirror, eyes wide. Was that really her? The black tube dress was wrapped tightly around her body, covering - if that was the right word - her skin from just above her breasts down to just under the bottom swell of her ass cheeks. Her sheer, white stockings, held up with clearly visible garters, served more to highlight her sleek legs than to cover them up, all the more so with the way the pumps made the muscles stand out in her calves and thighs. Her face was heavily made up, almost in a punk style, and her blonde hair was teased up in a modern, slutty look. The heavy, dangling jewellery on her wrists and ears, along with the dark leather collar, put the final touches on her appearance. Marion fought back a sob as she saw Angela's triumphant expression in the mirror behind her. She had been transformed from a married, conservative school teacher into... well, she wasn't sure what.

Not something she wanted to be.

Jimmy was suitably impressed and seemed happier with the whole plan as he led Marion into the garage and seated her in the back of the van. A pair of handcuffs were added to the collection of jewellery on Marion's wrists; her hands were fastened to a rail and the van door was slammed shut. She sat in darkness, trembling, as the engine started up and the vehicle began to move.

"You remember," Jimmy warned her, his hand tight and painful on her bare upper arm. "Any trouble and Sheila's dead. And you too. Got it?"

Wincing in pain at his grip, Marion nodded.

The man stared at her for a second and then led her across the shadowy parking lot towards the building. The bass throb of the music got louder as they approached a heavy door. There was a lineup, but Jimmy seemed to know the bouncers. One of them leered at Marion as Jimmy talked. Money changed hands and then the two were allowed to enter. Jimmy pulled her in front of him and shoved her into the main room of the club.

Marion was immediately overwhelmed with sensation. After a week of being kept indoors a single house, of sleeping in a garage kennel, of seeing the same four or five people day after day, the blonde woman was staggered by the press of the crowd as it bounced and seethed in directionless violence on the dance floor. Angela had been right about the collar. The club was fashionably punk, and many of the patrons were dressed in that style. Collars were common, as were clothespins, teased hair and heavy makeup. In her present dress, Marion fit right in.

"C'mon," Jimmy yelled, pulling her through the crowd. "I'll buy you a drink."

Helpless, Marion followed behind him as he bulled his way up to the bar. Almost immediately, she noticed men looking at her lustfully. More than once on the way to the bar, she felt unseen hands brush across her barely covered breasts and ass. She squirmed, trying to avoid the unwanted attention, but she was helpless to prevent it.

At the bar, Jimmy ordered two of something; Marion didn't hear what it was. When the drinks arrived, he handed her one and told her to drink it down quickly. She obeyed. Whatever it was, it was strong. Marion's throat burned and she almost coughed it up. Laughing, Jimmy ordered another drink. And then another. By the time she finished her third, Marion's head was beginning to spin. The alcohol combined with the flashing lights and sweaty, throbbing music to make her dizzy and disoriented. She staggered backwards, and only kept from falling by grabbing another man's arm to steady herself. The man looked at her and smiled, but Jimmy pulled her away.

"Let's dance," he mouthed, pulling her onto the dance floor.

Dizzy as she was, Marion followed him into the seething mass of dancers and, at his prompting, began to bounce and twist more or less in time with the music. Jimmy smiled in approval and, under the influence of the alcohol, she began to relax a bit. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad. The loud, throbbing music slowly overwhelmed her senses as she began to dance more emphatically.

And, as she danced, the burning feeling in her pussy began to grow. Slowly at first, but definitely growing. Not really aware of what she was doing, Marion slid a hand down the front of her stomach until it came to rest over her crotch and began to buck her hips in time with the music. She closed her eyes and let the feelings grow within her. For the past several days, she had been forced to masturbate almost continuously (when not actually having sex), and she did so now without really thinking about it. It just seemed natural.

In a world of her own, she spun slowly around the dance floor. Her hips swayed sexily, in time with the music as she danced. One hand rubbed, with increasing speed, up and down over her crotch, massaging her sopping pussy through the thin material of the tube dress while the other combed through her blonde hair, slid down her face, across her wet, pouting lips and then rubbed up against her rock-hard nipples. Her breathing became harsh and ragged as the passion began to build in her twisting, sweating body. She danced harder and harder, rubbed harder and harder as the feelings built... built... built... and finally, she came. A loud moan escaped her parted lips as an orgasm rolled over her body in a single, massive wave of pleasure.

When the feeling finally ebbed, she opened her eyes.

Jimmy was nowhere to be seen. A small circle had opened up around her on the dance floor and everyone was watching her. Men looked on with lusting, hungry eyes while women just eyed her with a queasy contempt. With a gasp, Marion looked down at herself, suddenly self-conscious. There was a large wet spot on the front of her dress, just over the crotch, and her nipples were clearly visible as they poked like hard little pebbles through the thin material covering her breasts.

Someone laughed.

"Noooo..."

The blonde woman turned away, trying to cover or protect herself, but not before another thrill of lust shot through her body. With a half-choked sob, she realized that it was the humiliation itself that was causing her pussy to become excited. What was happening to her?

Marion frantically tried get off the dance floor, but the crowd around her slowly closed in, trapping her where she stood. Another song started, and she was no longer the centre of attention. She tried to slip away, but one of the men stepped up and began dancing directly in front of her.

"Hey, babe," he half-yelled, his upper lip glistening under the lights "you look like you need a man." Confused, Marion shook her head, but the man just put his arms around her neck and pulled her into his chest. The blonde woman tried to break away, but the pressure of the bouncing, surging crowd was too great. The dizziness, momentary forgotten, once again overcame her. With a helpless sigh, she sagged forward, allowing the man to support her. He grinned knowingly, pulling her even closer to his body while guiding her in a slow, tight circle on the dance floor. Almost unconsciously, she let her hands fall around behind his back. Tired, she closed her eyes and let him lead.

The dancing continued for a song or two. Slowly, as they danced, the man became increasingly bolder with his hands. Keeping one hand around her neck, he slid the other one down and cupped the curves of her ass. Only partially conscious, she squirmed and let out a quiet whimper, but didn't really pull away or protest; she was just too dizzy. Emboldened by her lack of protest, the man slid his hand down her ass until he came to the hem of her dress. Careful not to alert her, he tugged upwards, slowly pulling the dress up until her ass was completely exposed.

"Ohh..."

Marion gave a start, and jerked her hips forward when she felt his bare hand on her ass.

"Fuck," the man whispered, a grin spreading across his face. "No panties." He slid his middle finger in between her ass cheeks and fingered the entrance to her anus.

"No," she mumbled, slurring her words. "Don't..."

She tried to squirm away from his finger, but succeeded only in rubbing her pussy up against his crotch. The spark of lust, which had been momentarily dampened by her recent orgasm, burst into being again. Without realizing it, she ground her hips against him, enjoying the sensations which emanated through her body at the feel of him body against her crotch. He brought his lips against her's for a kiss; a sudden warmth flooded over her as she opened her mouth to welcome his tongue, all the time...

He slipped a finger into her anal passage.

"Noooo..." The sudden pain of the intrusion cut through the fog of lust, and she remembered where she was.

And who she was.

With a strength born of fear and humiliation, she brought her knee straight up, hard, into the man's groin. The effect was immediate; he let out a loud groan and crumpled onto the floor in front of her. A few of the other dancers looked over, but most of them ignored the disturbance. Marion put a hand to her mouth to stifle a scream and backed away. A few steps later, the man was out of sight, lost behind the crowd.

Frightened, the blonde woman took another step backwards, but the crowd was too thick. She started to try to push people away, to free up some space, but then froze as a set of arms reached around from behind her. She tried to turn, but instead stumbled and fell back into the man reaching around her. In a flash, the man had his hands on her breasts, squeezing and fondling. Marion attempted to pull away, but the crowd was still too thick, and she couldn't get her balance in the pumps. And the man kept holding her back. Marion let out a cry as one hand kneaded and fondled her breasts while the other slid down to her crotch. Terrified, looked around for help. A number of other people on the dance floor were watching her, but she saw no help there. They just sneered, and stared at her as her body responded automatically to the fondling hands.

It was too much for her. With a quick, violent twist of her upper body, she broke away. Half running, she squirmed through the crowd and was almost off the dance floor when she ran straight into another man.

"Hey," he said, holding her arms to steady her. "What's the hurry?" The DJ was between songs, so they could converse without yelling.

Marion drew a deep breath, gathering her thoughts as best she could before speaking. Her mind considered her options, while she glanced around for Jimmy. The man was nowhere to be seen. Was this her chance? She briefly considered Sheila, but decided that it was worth it. If the man would help her get to the police, they would be there quickly enough to catch Jimmy before he went back to the house. It was worth a try.

The music started up again, so she had to lean forward and speak almost directly into the man's ear to make herself understood.

"I need your help," she told him. "Can we go somewhere?"

She glanced around, still worried that Jimmy might be watching, so she didn't see the look on the man's face as he nodded. He took her hand in his own and pulled her off the dance floor and towards an exit sign at the back of the club. "Through here," he said, pulling her through a heavy curtain and into a short hallway. The hallway led to a door and before long, the two of them were standing outside, in a quiet alley behind the club.

Marion breathed a sigh of relief and looked around. "Thank you so much," she said. "I..."

Her sentence was cut off as the man brought his lips down against her's in a passionate kiss. Surprised, she opened her mouth and let his tongue explore the inside of her mouth for a few moments, enjoying the sensation, before pushing him away. "D-don't," she stammered, her heart pounding in her chest. "That's not what I..."

"I know what the fuck you want," the man growled, taking a handful of blonde hair. "And I'm going to give it to you." Marion let out a cry as he used his grip in her hair to propel her forward into the a low, iron rail fence beside the doorway. Her cry was abruptly cut off as the railing slammed into her stomach and drove the breath out of her lungs. Unable to breath, she struggled weakly as the man forced her to bend over the rail and pulled her dress up over her ass.

"Ha," he grunted, "no panties. What a slut."

Marion fought for air, wanting to struggle or, at least, scream, but she couldn't draw a full breath. All she could do was squirm helplessly and gasp for air as the man undid his zipper and placed his rigid cock up against her pussy. To her shame, it was sopping. She couldn't help it.

The man laughed. "Guess I was right about you, bitch." With a hard thrust, he rammed his cock straight up her pussy. Tears rolled down the blonde woman's face as the man began to fuck her from behind while she was bent over the iron railing. Against her will, she felt her pussy welcome the intrusion and start to grow even wetter. Soon, she was humping her ass back against the man's cock and grunting with quiet lust at each stroke. Her passion built until finally she came just as the man stiffened and spewed jets of sperm into her over-heated pussy.

Humiliated, she trembled on the rail as her orgasm slowly subsided. The tremors and spasms had just about ended when she heard a voice from a few feet away.

"Hey, man... that's quite a slut you got there. Mind if I have a go at her?"

Marion looked up from her bent-over position to see who had spoken. It was the man she had kneed on the dance floor.

"Nooo..."

She started to straighten up, but the man who had just fucked her to orgasm pushed her back down over the railing. "Be my guest," he laughed. "There's plenty to go around; she's a real slut." He held her down while the second man came around behind the rail and took over. With no warning, he plunged his cock into her sopping pussy and began pistoning his hips. The first man did up his pants and went back into the club; the music swelled and then died away as the door opened and closed.

"Bitch," the man grunted, slapping his hand down against her thigh. Marion cried out at the pain, but immediately felt the spark of lust rekindle. The man slapped her a few more times and then began to fuck her in earnest. He slammed his hips into her as hard as he could, driving her stomach into the railing again and again. And, despite the pain and humiliation, or perhaps because of it, she felt her body begin to react.

The man laughed. "You really like this, don't you bitch?"

Marion didn't answer. He grabbed a handful of blonde hair and jerked her head painfully back. "I said, 'you like this, don't you bitch'?"

Whimpering at the pain, she moaned out a quiet "yes". Satisfied, the man dropped her head and went back to fucking her. "Tell me," he growled.

"Yes," she grunted, her body jerking and bucking with each hard thrust, "I like it... please... I love it..." She babbled on, growing increasingly incoherent as the feelings of lust grew in her battered body. Finally, all she could do was grunt in time with the man's thrusts:

"Hunh... huhn... huhn... Huhn... HUHN... HUHNN.... Ahh...."

She came, her body bucking and spasming as her third orgasm of the evening ripped through her body.

"Fuck!" It was everything the man could do to hold on as she kicked and bucked beneath him. He came, but his cocked slipped out as she twisted away, and he spewed ropes of hot, sticky cum down the back of her dress.

"Shit man..."

In a daze, Marion felt another pair of hands grip her ass. She looked up blearily. The music was loud again - the door was open - and more and more men were leaving the club and entering the alley. She felt anther cock enter her pussy and, when she opened her mouth to protest, another one was slipped in between her lips. Instinctively, she began to suck at it with the skills she had learned over the previous week.

And, once again, her traitorous body began to react...

She quickly lost track of how many men had taken her. Had fucked her. All she knew was cocks and orgasm... cocks and orgasms... cocks and orgasms...

When Jimmy found her some time later, she was alone, on her hands and knees up against the wall in the alley. Her black dress was bunched up around her waist, torn and soaking with cum. Her shoes were gone and stockings ripped. The insides of her thighs were coated with the cum which still flowed freely from her red, aching pussy. A long trail of cum and vomit hung down from her lips as her stomach heaved, trying to reject at least some of the many pints of sperm she had been forced to swallow.

"Ohhh..."

The blonde woman groaned quietly as Jimmy grabbed her hair and dragged her to her bare feet. She coughed, spitting out another wad of cum as he pulled her to the mouth of the alley and over to where the van was waiting. He didn't bother handcuffing her; she had passed out on the floor before the door was shut behind her.

She never even heard the engine start.

Marion's training continued the next day almost as though nothing had happened. Almost. When she entered the living room the next morning, Angela was waiting with the cane. Marion knew what was expected of her; she assumed her caning position and begged to be punished.

The redhead obliged her.

The only other consequence of Marion's outing to the club was that Angela placed her off-limits to Jimmy and the other men. Her captive's pussy, Angela decided, needed time to recover from its ordeal. Marion almost fainted with relief when Angela made the order - her pussy was red and raw after the gang bang in the alley - but soon discovered that any slackening in her duties towards the men was more than made up by an increase in the time she had to spend satisfying Angela. For the next three days, she spent almost every waking moment with the redhead, her nose buried in the woman's pussy or ass. By the end of each day, both her tongue and her pussy were aching, one with fatigue and the other with unsatisfied lust. When Angela had decreed Marion's pussy off limits, she had meant it.

Even to Marion.

And so, the blonde woman lived each waking moment in a haze of sexual subservience and frustration. She forgot all else: Sheila; her previous life; Donald... her entire consciousness was focussed on one thing: satisfying her mistress.

That was why, when she heard a woman's embarrassed giggle from behind her in the room while her face was jammed up between the redhead's sopping thighs, she was so surprised. Another woman? Her instinct was to look up, but she had been too well trained for that. She just kept right at work, using her tongue to excite her mistress's clit and trying desperately not to think about the dreadful lust burning in her own deprived pussy while Angela greeted the newcomers and invited them to take a seat. It was only when the redhead had orgasmed that Marion, her face wet with pussy juice, was allowed to straighten up and turn around.

"Donald!"

It was her husband. He was sitting comfortably on a chair on the other side of the room, a big grin on his face. Standing behind him, her hand on his shoulder, was a beautiful woman with long, brown hair. Her face was a little flushed, as though she were somewhat embarrassed... or aroused. As Marion watched in stunned silence, the brunette bent down and whispered something in Donald's ear. Donald nodded and laughed out loud.

Finally, Marion recovered her voice: "Donald! What are..."

"Position!" Angela interrupted.

The blonde woman hesitated for a split second, torn between her training and the imminence of rescue, but a quick slap on her ass with the cane made up her mind for her. Smoothly, she assumed the squatting position she had been taught so well: sitting back on her heels; knees bent; thighs spread; hands behind her neck; and eyes down. Her face, splotchy with drying pussy juice, burned with a humiliation she hadn't felt since the second day of her training. The thought of Donald was seeing her like this was almost unbearable.

Still, she bore it.

She had no choice.

"Well Donald," Angela purred, her voice smug, "shall you do the honours or shall I?"

Marion heard Donald get to his feet. "I think I will," he answered. "It's my buck paying the ticket, or at least part of it." The brunette giggled again as Donald walked forward, towards his squatting wife. "But I'd like to explain it in my own way."

Angela laughed.

The blonde woman felt her head being pulled back. She looked up to see Donald's cock sticking in her face. With a soft cry, she cringed; this was the first cock she'd seen since the gang rape at the club. It frightened and repulsed her, but once again the sharp sting of the cane against her ass compelled obedience.

"Open your mouth," Donald ordered. "Don't suck it, just let it sit there while I... 'fill you in'." The brunette let out another giggle. A tear trickled down Marion's face as she obediently opened her mouth and accepted her husband's cock. He slid it in about two or three inches, just enough so that it sat heavily on her tongue. "Ahhh..." Donald looked down with a large grin on his face. "That feels great. Too bad I couldn't get you to do this when we were married." Marion felt a tingle in her pussy, but didn't acknowledge it. What did he mean 'when we were married'?

"Look up at me," Donald ordered. Obediently, Marion looked up, staring at her husband as she knelt in front of him, his cock in her mouth.

Donald began to speak: "Let me tell you about my problem. I had this wife, you see, a prim little school teacher. She was cute enough, but she was just too fucking uptight to be much fun. I tried to be patient with her, but she just never got into it. As a result, I went elsewhere. This went on for a while, but the stupid bitch never caught on; she was too busy playing teacher. One day, I met Barbara here..." he gestured towards the brunette, who walked over and stood beside him, resting her hand on his shoulder "...and things changed." He paused for a moment and Marion watched, tears streaming down her face, as her husband and the brunette - Barbara - indulged themselves in a long, passionate kiss. She felt his cock twitch on her tongue, and barely suppressed a moan of shame and lust.

Finally, they were done kissing. "You can start sucking, now, but keep looking up at me." Her eyes blurred with tears, but Marion did as she was told. Slowly, with all the skill she'd painfully acquired over the last two weeks of training, she began to suck her husband's cock, all the while staring up at him with her big, blue eyes.

Grinning, Donald resumed his story: "You see, Barbara changed my life. Not only did she work wonders for my company, turning things around and making me a fortune, but I fell in love with her. And she fell in love with me: the perfect couple. Except for one thing: I was already married."

Marion let out a sob, but continued work slavishly on her husband's cock. While she was sucking, the burning in her pussy was quickly growing greater. After ten days of almost constant masturbation and sex, Angela's refusal to let her come over the last few days was driving her wild. Even with all the hateful things Donald was saying, even with the humiliation of being forced to suck his cock like some kind of whore in front of his girlfriend, she still felt herself growing more and more excited. Her hand trembled with the urge to reach down for her pussy, but she held back. No matter how much she wanted it, she feared Angela more.

Donald continued speaking: "So I didn't know what to do. My wife didn't know how rich I'd become, but I was pretty certain that her lawyer would find out in any divorce proceeding. So we couldn't go down that road: Barbara and I agreed that whatever happened, we wouldn't give any of our money to my wife. So, we were stuck. We even toyed with the idea of doing away with her, but we just couldn't do it. Then it even seemed to get worse. We were caught together by..."

"Don't say it," Angela interrupted. "Leave that part out."

By now, Marion was sliding her entire face up and down on her husband's cock, taking it all the way down her throat and then sliding it out. She wanted to do something - to bite, to scream, to cry, to rage - but she couldn't. All she could do was stare upwards, her mouth full of cock, while Donald went on with his hateful story.

"Fair enough," he agreed, groaning slightly. Marion's efforts on his cock were beginning to effect him. "To make a long story shorter, this person didn't rat on us. Instead, she suggested a possible solution. A way out so that we would both get what we wanted: me, Barbara and her. And she even knew the perfect person to hire to do the job."

Angela laughed.

"And so," Donald concluded, his breath short and heavy with arousal, "I got these." He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and waved it in front of her face. It was the letter; the letter she had been forced to write to him, explaining about how she needed to be free to find other men. "And this." He flashed some pictures in front of her wide eyes. They were obviously taken in the club a few nights earlier: Marion dancing with different men; Marion openly masturbating on the dance floor; Marion leaning back and allowing her breasts to be fondled, a dreamy look on her face; Marion kissing another man while grinding her crotch into him. "With this," Donald concluded, "I can get a divorce in no time."

He fell silent and stiffened as his cock twitched and began to spurt cum down Marion's throat. Marion swallowed, as she had been trained to do, but the taste repulsed her. Nevertheless, there was a burning in her pussy.

"And you," Donald continued as he pulled his cock from her mouth, "won't get a thing. You were the one who abandoned me." He grinned down at her as he placed his cock back in his pants and backed away.

Her mouth sticky with cum, Marion looked up at him from her squatting position. "But... but, what about me? I'll testify..."

"Oh I don't think so," Angela laughed. "Your new mistress is taking you home tonight. As far as anyone will know, you'll be long gone with your 'lover'."

Marion fell silent and looked around, bewildered.

New mistress?

Sheila walked out of the bedroom, fully dressed in skirt and blouse. "Hello Mrs Seward," she sneered, an arrogant look on her young face. "Or should I say 'Darling'".

Speechless, Marion gaped at the teenager.

Sheila smiled and walked slowly forward towards the still squatting woman. "I gather Donald's told you all about your impending divorce." The teenager smirked. "My condolences. It's so sad when marriages don't work out." She came to a halt directly in front of her ex-teacher. "Still, there's a bright side," she continued. "Now you'll have more time to fulfil your new duties."

The blonde woman looked up at the teenager, her mind dizzy with confusion. "New d-duties?"

"Didn't Angela tell you?" Sheila looked over at the redhead, her eyebrows raised.

"I left it for you," the older woman told her, nodding slightly.

"Ah." Sheila turned her attention downward again, a tight smile on her face. "I'm your new mistress. You're coming home with me."

Marion froze for a moment, her mind struggling to take it all in. Donald... and that woman, Barbara... the kidnapping... Sheila... Her body began to shake as it slowly became clear to her just what had happened.

And what was going to happen.

"Nooo..." Her lower lip trembled; a tear welled up and rolled out of one watering eye and trickled down her cheek. "Nooo..."

"Oh, yes," Sheila told her, laughing at the other woman's reaction. "My father arranged the whole thing. He bought me a house just off campus for college next year, complete with basement and kennel." Sheila smirked. "And a cane."

This couldn't be happening! Marion's gaze darted around the room, looking for... she wasn't sure what. Sympathy? Escape? Someone to tell her it was all a bad joke?

"But that's for the future." The teenager grinned and raised her skirt. "And we'll have plenty of time together." She wasn't wearing any panties. "Angela tells me you've turned into quite the little cunt-hound. That'll be one of your duties, of course, so I thought I'd see if her praise was justified."

The blonde woman continued to shake as she stared at the teenager's pussy, just inches from her face. It was quite different from Angela's. The redhead's pussy had been fully developed, and covered with thick, red pubic hair. Sheila's pussy was much smaller and covered with a much finer sheen of hair. It was a teenager's pussy; and the pussy of her new mistress.

Her new mistress!

A thrill of lust shot through Marion's body. With a quiet moan of submission, she leaned forward and began work. Using every ounce of skill she had acquired over the last ten days, she did her best to satisfy her young mistress, slurping and sucking at the girl's clit as best she could. Behind her, Donald let out a booming laugh, and Marion was almost overcome with a wave of shame and humiliation. And, as was the case over the last week of her captivity, those feelings were closely followed by a burning, hungry lust in her pussy. Inevitably, Marion felt herself growing moist as she serviced her new mistress's pussy.

"Angela?"

Marion was barely aware that Sheila had said anything before... [THWACK!] the cane landed on her ass with a brutal impact.

"Mmmmm..."

The blonde woman let out a muffled scream into the younger girl's pussy, causing her to squirm in lust at the feeling.

"Again."

THWACK!

"Nmmmmgh..."

"Again."

THWACK!

Marion twisted and writhed under the painful caning, but didn't take her mouth away from Sheila's now sopping pussy. She had been too well trained. Besides, the taste of the teenager's pussy juice combined with the humiliation of her situation and the burning pain of the caning to send powerful waves of lust swelling out from her pussy and through the rest of her body. With a whimper of lust, she drove her well-trained tongue deep into the girl's pussy, her screams and writhing pushing the younger girl closer and closer to orgasm.

"Darling," Sheila breathed, gripping her slave's blonde curls and pulling her face even harder into her wet pussy. "Touch yourself. Come for your mistress!"

The blonde woman mewled with sluttish pleasure as her hands began their work. One hand flew up to her naked breasts, pinching and squeezing and kneading as it had the very first time she had been forced to give Jimmy a blowjob. The other hand went down to her swamp-like pussy, furiously driving one, two and then three fingers in and out while scraping the side of her hand up against her burning clit. [THWACK!] Angela brought the cane down harder and harder on the blonde woman's reddened ass as the two women, the teenage mistress and her teacher-slave grunted and moaned with lust.

Finally, it was too much for the teenager. With a loud cry, her legs gave way and she fell back onto her ass, her hands still gripping Marion's blonde hair. As she fell, she drew the older woman forward so that she was lying almost flat on the floor, her face still jammed hard into the teenager's pussy.

The extra pressure from the fall sent Sheila over the edge. Letting out a scream, she wrapped her legs around her slave's head and began to thrash wildly about, bouncing her ass up and down off the floor with the force of the orgasm.

Marion came.

Face trapped between Sheila's bucking thighs, one hand twisting and pulling on her aching nipples while the other clawed desperately at her slut pussy, Marion came. Her legs kicked out at random as her body was buffeted by wave after wave of orgasm so intense it was mostly pain. She screamed her ecstacy into Sheila's steaming pussy while Angela, sweating with exertion, repeatedly slammed the cane into her red, writhing ass, sending shockwaves of agony through the blonde woman's bucking, heaving body and sending her to new heights of pain and pleasure.

When her senses returned, Marion found herself lying on the floor in a pool of tears, sweat and pussy juice. Donald and his girlfriend had left the room, and Angela was giving Sheila a small suitcase. Sheila smiled and handed over an envelope. The transaction completed, the brown-haired teenager walked over and attached a chain leash to Marion's leather collar.

"Well Darling," she asked, smirking, "ready to go?"

Marion looked up at Sheila as she stood, towering over the crouching woman. The teenager looked so confident; so beautiful. Briefly, the blonde school teacher contemplated the future - being kept as a sex slave by a former student; sleeping chained and naked in a basement kennel like some kind of degraded, sluttish animal; being forced to serve her former student in any way the girl demanded - and a shudder of lust racked her abused body. She looked up at her ex-student, fighting back an urge to plunge her hand once again back into her spasming pussy.

"Yes mistress," she answered, meaning every word. Just as she had been trained to do. "I'm ready."

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