Howard Banning - The tortured teacher

That feeling lasted for about five seconds. Then she realized what had been done to her by Jack O'Neill and a sense of shame over her wantonness in having, indulged his perversions overcame her.

Now she began crying once more. The wetness between her legs was beginning to dry and she wanted nothing more than to be any place but this awful man's office. He was rummaging through his desk for something. Probably a knife to stab me with after he carves his initials on my belly and writes my name on the wall in blood. What a story that should make for the newspapers, she thought hysterically. And to think that I actually enjoyed what he just did tome God, she prayed, you know that I couldn't help myself, so please forgive me if now is the time for me to die. There was nothing else I could do. Maybe the secretary might have come in or some thing like that. God, I don't want to die. I'll do anything if you let me live, her mind screamed. Anything, anything at all.

But now she saw that it wasn't a knife that Jack O'Neill held in his hands and now she wanted to die anyhow. A knife at least would be quick and easy, but he was going to ram a huge stick – a dildo, she had heard it called – up inside of her and split her in two. God, that's going to hurt. Please give me strength, she asked silently.

The principal still wore the same maniacal grin on his face. "Now, just relax, honey. You think you liked the feather, you're going to love this. Let me just grease her up a little bit," he said softly. And with that he began to put some petroleum jelly on the dildo.

Again she closed her eyes, and within seconds, she could feel the plastic shaft pressing against her hair-ringed fissure. This guy must be out of his mind, ramming this thing up me, she thought frantically. They'll have no problem tracing it to him.

Now, though, she heard an odd, low hum like an alarm clock going off and the sound was so out of place that she broke out of her misery to wonder what in the world it could be. Then she realized that her cuntal opening was being tickled by the vibrations of the dildo. She realized this was a vibrator.

How very odd, she thought I can't stand the feel of that thing going into me, but it's starting to slide into me anyhow. God, I hate it so much, but it feels… it feels kind of interesting, too.

And without warning, her whole body began to quiver and shiver, completely out of control. Her face contorted into a mask of passion that had to be relieved right on the spot. Her firm tanned legs started to jerk, her toes curled and her hips began swinging up wildly as she completely lost control of herself.

This time, only one thought preoccupied her now almost blank mind. To get as much of that vibrating plastic cock inside her now-steaming pussy as she could possibly manage. The high voltage circuit of orgasm began bolting down to her slippery clitoral bud and jolted back to her cervix where her never-before-used cuntal muscles gripped the toy of joy in a hammerlock hold, instinctive in its nature with one and only one message – don't ever let go.

And she did not let go, at least for quite a while. Her orgasm reached into the very depths of her soul and pulled everything out of her, leaving her completely dry. Her moans became animalistic, like those of a tigress in heat. Her fingernails dug into the palms of her hands and her eyes glazed over unseeingly. As many times as she'd lain with Steve, she'd never known anything approaching this. She'd never been fucked like this before and she knew it. Her thoughts were a jumble as the waves, seemingly endless, of orgasm roared through her four, five, six and now seven times.

The heartbeat of lust pounded through her now limp body as one more explosion ripped through her as she gasped for breath through the gag. The insistent drumbeat of lust built up by the vibrator thundered through her yet one more time. She loved every instant of it as the dildo, almost all of it squeezed into her dripping cuntal walls, gave her thrills beyond imagination.

It wasn't just Linda who was thrilled either. The sight of this raven haired vixen turned from a prim and proper educator, the very model of social decorum, into a seething volcano of lust had driven him up the wall. He had exploded into a sweet, long lasting easily 60 seconds worth – orgasm that had blown him over onto his back. Such flaming, unleashed passion had been, he had always thought, the property of the actresses in the porno movies he and his wife would watch at home on the screen that pulled down from the living room ceiling. He'd always thought that it was just a matter of really good acting and photography.

Both of them remained supine for several minutes – she from necessity, of course, and he from choice. Her anger and shame had returned by the time he stood up. Tears once again had welled up in her big brown eyes and were running down her cheeks.

"Now, understand something, Linda," he said very evenly. "I never technically raped you and there's no way that any of my semen will show up if you do go to a hospital. Secondly, if you do say anything about this to anyone, I'll get both you and your husband fired so fast that you won't know what hit you. So I strongly suggest that you keep this quiet I know you liked it, so I'm not going to apologize. I looked at you and I figured you'd really eat it up, which is why I had these hooks put in. And I was right. I was absolutely right. So just remember, people are going to be much more likely to believe a nasty rumor about you than they are ever going to about me."

Now he slowly pulled out the dildo, which he had turned off while he was talking. Then he began to undo the cords, which had left only slight indentations in Linda's wrists and ankles.

"You'd better get dressed," he said evenly when he was done. "Third period starts pretty soon and I'm sure you don't want to be late."

"No," she said and started to slip on her underwear and stockings.

"Do you hate me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You forced me to do that."

"It was for your own good."

"Look," she said coldly. "If you keep this up, I'll scream my head off."

"And I'll clobber you like before."

"Fine. I'll just say this. If you ever come near me again, I'll scream."

"I won't. This office is the only place I can get away with this. See how it locks from the inside. That way, I can't be interrupted."

"You are sick."

"Maybe so, but I'm still principal here, so I still have all my marbles working."

She was now dressed. "Goodbye, Mister O'Neill. I hope you rot in hell," she snarled.

"Tnt, tnt, Mrs. White. Let bygones be bygones. Most women are very grateful for what I do for them here. If you can't appreciate that, well, that's your loss," he said with a hearty sneer.

Then he opened the door and Linda walked out quickly. She felt terrible. Why did scum like Jack O'Neill have to exist at all?

She had planned to go straight to a telephone and notify the police about what had happened, but she felt O'Neill's words sinking in slowly – that it would be her word against his, to say nothing of both her and Steve losing their jobs and the awful problems of having to go through a trial in a court.

God damn it, she swore, and ran into a girl's bathroom. She looked in a mirror and was surprised to see that she really didn't look as awful as she had thought she might. Maybe if he'd punched me harder and really given me a black eye, I could take the bastard to court, she thought. But it was useless. There was no way in the world she could win. History had taught her that the more powerful of two people generally is the one winning a confrontation.

She wiped herself dry with tissue from her purse, then combed her hair and wished she could be with Steve right now. Then she walked back to her classroom, just as class was getting out from second period to change over to third period with a short break.