Kathy Andrews - Disciplined mother

"Little slut. We've got our work cut out for us here to make you into a young lady," he said, his former calm returning as he raised one leg and slipped off her body.

"Please… you've done all this to me. Just let me go. I promise I won't tell anyone about this," she said, meaning every word.

Krystal was sobbing now, feeling that every, square inch of her body had been cruelly violated. He had carried out his threat about disciplining her. Now she would have done anything he asked just to avoid some of the terrors she had presently endured.

"I can see you're coming around a bit – see it in your eyes. That's good. I'll have to give you some time to think about it… in my fashion."

Mike dressed first, then slowly removed the straps holding her legs apart. The dildo was slipped out carefully, the instrument returned to its appropriate place on a small shelf nearby. Last came the straps around her wrists and waist. Linda collapsed to the floor like a sack of potatoes, pushing the hair from her eyes. One look at Mike and she knew she was to stand and keep her eyes down – just as she had seen the other girls do at this "school".

"Good. Really good," he said pleased, fingering her tits.

"Ow!"

He pinched her nipples, already sore from all the sex play.

"You'll learn to tolerate much more, Krystal, much more. Now, however, it's time to go to your room. We'll start another class soon."

He marched her down the corridor after locking the door carefully behind them. She felt dirty, violated. Several girls passed her as they moved back toward the living quarters, but Krystal couldn't move her eyes from the floor. She would grovel in the dirt, she felt, before she felt worthy enough to look at another human being. Oh oh, his training was starting to work all too well for Krystal!

The days moved quickly for Krystal. To her surprise, regular classes were as difficult if not more so than the ones she attended at her advanced private school in San Bernardino. The only differences were that here all the classmates were girls, and that nearly one-half of them sat naked in their chairs. No one said anything about that. No one said anything about anything else. Everyone was quiet, took notes, studied, ate – everything in silence. It was during the evening hours Krystal trembled, waiting for Mike at someone like him to enter her cell like room and beat her for no reason. They had made things relatively comfortable in here – plenty of warm blankets, a decent bed, enough lighting for her to do her studying. But still they kept her at her proper "level" by depriving her of clothes.

It was then, when she began thinking of all the shame she was enduring, that she thought of her mother. Resentment and hurt boiled together. Why hadn't she come here to see her, if not to rescue her? Surely she couldn't know the extent of her daughter's distress, even if she had guessed there would be some outrageous disciplinary measures applied now and then.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, Krystal found Linda standing outside the door of her American History class. The other girls shrank away immediately from her, scurrying on by with their eyes still down. Krystal looked straight at her, hugging her one book to her tits protectively. She had guessed this woman held a good deal of power here, and to be kind to her was to be smart.

"Yes?"

"We want you. It's time for another session. Come with me."

Krystal didn't fight. That was useless. She had to submit and hope she would endure this one as well as she had the first. She nodded and mutely followed the attractive tall girl. Passing the hall leading to her room, Krystal gave a longing look to the corridor, wishing she could curl up under the coarse gray blankets right now and doze over her studies.

"In here."

Krystal felt Linda taking her book away, pushing her over a low threshold into a vault like room. Krystal looked about her and saw the usual instruments of pain hanging from the walls. Although this wasn't the room she had been tortured in the first time, still there was a distinct resemblance. As she moved in farther, the girl wondered just how many of these spaces there were – just how many young girls had suffered as she had on their first days here at the institution. Looking to the left, Krystal noticed various masks, gags and hoods of leather hanging from the wall. The full impact of what would probably happen to her hit her like a rock. She rubbed her fingers over her upper arms, her teeth chattering.

"Now, stop here, raise your arms," Linda directed calmly.

They were near the center of the room. Looking above her instinctively, Krystal saw a fourfoot wooden bar suspended from the ceiling by a long chain. She did as she was told, watching as her wrists were strapped tight to the wood. Her arms were spread widely, the strain just starting to make itself felt in her shoulders. The few days of rest she had enjoyed had healed a good deal of the marks, welts and chafing zones that had marked her young body.

"Now, spread your legs apart. From what I understand about you, Krystal, that should be a pleasant enough command to obey."

Mike! He must have told her everything – about the way she had enjoyed that awful fucking, about the way she had licked his cock, then taken the full length down her throat, sucking at it until he shot his load into her belly! Krystal could imagine the two of them laughing at her, trying to determine what new humiliation they could drag her through.

"You heard me, Krystal. No daydreaming here. Spread your legs!"

Krystal obeyed, fleetingly remembering Mike and how he had fucked her with that spiked dildo. Looking down now, she saw that just beyond each of her feet a ringbolt in the floor had a short chain ending in a heavy leather anklet. She shuddered, remembering how painful the chafing had been during her last ordeal. Linda fitted these on her, buckling them tightly, then moved to the right wall.

Krystal followed her movements as if her life depended upon them. The woman removed a small wooden cover and dropped it to the floor with a dull thud. A winch-type device appeared, a thing Linda grabbed and unlocked. Immediately Krystal felt the chain shuddering above her. Turning the winch slowly, Linda made the wooden bar above Krystal's head slowly rise. She struggled, looking at either arm, panic starting once more to make its presence felt in her heart. She felt her arms drawing up, her muscles stretching and straining gradually. At the saint time, her ankles tugged at their bonds from the upward pressure. Krystal began whimpering, jerking her head from left to right. Soon one heel, then the other, left the floor. When Linda finally stopped turning and flipped the ratchet, the naked young teen hung in an X, her arms and legs spread wide, her muscles strained to the tearing point.

Krystal wanted to scream out, to beg for mercy. But she knew no one would listen to her. She was a prisoner in this awful place, a captive no one would help as she hung there from the ceiling.

"Yes, you're beautiful… I see as beautiful as Mike talks about. He and I have many talks about the girls here," Linda said, her voice softening strangely as she approached Krystal.

Some moments passed before Krystal realized a distinct change in attitude had come over Linda. There was that softness, that almost caressing tone in her voice that she found addictive. There was that human warmth she had been deprived of these horrid days, and she felt herself leaning toward her.

"Oh, don't."

Linda ran her light fingers caressingly up and down Krystal's strained body, touching her nipples ever so lightly, then bringing them passed her belly button to the top of her fuzzy cuntal mound.

"Such a beautiful young woman," Linda repeated, biting her lower lip in an obvious attempt for control. Krystal gasped, feeling a strange, intense tightness starting to heat her pussy.