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."