John Kellerman - Teacher_s captive virgin

It was dark when Amanda awoke. At first, she thought that she'd lost her mind. She didn't recognize the cabin. Then she smelled something cooking and saw the crackling fire, Alan came over and sat on the edge of the narrow cot. He caressed her forehead as she blinked sleepily up at him.

"How's my pretty play thing?"

"You think I belong to you?"

"Yes."

He caressed the side of her face. His eyes were bright and hot. It scared Amanda to look at him. She remembered the dream she'd had while dozing. She and Alan had been the last two people on the earth. He had kept her in a cage, feeding her like something on display, some captured animal at a zoo. Sometimes he entered the cage to take advantage of her. In the dream, Amanda had resisted weakly, then given in to enjoy Alan's assault. Remembering this nightmare bothered her. It went against the way she felt now, or at least she thought it did.

"You can't keep me like this forever," she whimpered, turning away from his touch.

"You're right, of course." He went to the table and uncorked a slim pint bottle.

Amanda had swung her legs out of the bed and was trying to get up. She hated exposing her nakedness to him again. And the leather collar around her throat never let her forget that she was his captive. The chain that bound her to the bedpost tightened and she sighed. Alan came to unlock it. But her ankles were still restricted by the dog chain. She wrapped a blanket around her body and walked slowly to a chair.

"Why don't you have some of this?" Alan offered. "You've had quite an experience for someone so innocent."

"And you're not even sorry you did it?"

"Sure. But I'm more glad that I did do it. I've known more pleasure in the past few hours than I've known for years with my wife…"

"But they'll be back. What are you going to do then?"

Alan held out the pint and, thought Amanda had never taken a drink of hard liquor in her life, she did so now without hesitation. She needed it. She forced the strong booze down, got her breath and took another swallow.

"Not too fast," Alan warned, taking it back again. He sipped and put the bottle on the table. "While you slept, I hiked up to where the others are camped out. I didn't let them know I was above on the cliff, listening. I heard enough to know when they'll arrive here." He drank again.

"They'll be starting down tomorrow around noon. By then you and I will have our little story fixed up."

"What if I don't go along with your little story?" Amanda blurted, her blue eyes hot with anger. "What if I decide to tell the truth?"

Alan held the bottle out to her again. She snatched it and drank. The liquor gave her a feeling of power. And it dulled the ache of her muscles, the stinging soreness of her broken cherry.

"Oh, you'll go along with it all. You're not the type to 'fess us. You couldn't stand all those looks you'd get. That's one of the reasons I decided to bring you up here."

"You're… you're awful!"

"So you'll be behaving as normally as before," Alan told her. "Your sprained ankle got better by the time we made it back to the station wagon and rested a bit. You decided you'd like to rejoin the rest. You and I made it to the cabin. With your father's reputation and your innocence, no one would ever suspect that you'd cooperate in any kind at hanky panky. And my reputation is almost as clean as your old man's." Alan drank more liquor.

Amanda looked down at her hands. She wished things weren't so complicated. She wished that people could be truthful and honest at all times.

But she knew that Alan was right. She wasn't about to tell of the awful things that he'd done to her on that mountain. She couldn't face the condemnation of the community, of her father, of everyone that would be whispering behind her back. She would have to leave Balford, go to a new school, make new friends. Her father's career would be ruined, his faith destroyed. Even though none of this was her fault, that's where the cards would fall. And even if she told the truth and made a new life for herself somewhere else, the nasty rumors would catch up with her sooner or later. They always did when people tried to run away from them. Alan was tight. He had her in the palm of his hand. Amanda shivered. More than ever before, she realized that she was now his slave.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of what you've done," he told her, his voice husky. "Any more than you should be ashamed of the size of your tits."

Self-consciously, Amanda brought her hands up under the blanket, cupping her young, immature swells. She couldn't look at him. She could feel the alcohol working in her blood now. It made her feel like laughing, or crying. She wasn't sure which.

"How tall are you, Amanda?"

"Five-seven."

"Tall for a girl." Alan smiled. "And most of it legs." Amanda blushed. "How much do you weigh?" Alan went on.

She hated the questions. She felt more naked than ever, even with the blanket.

"Just over a hundred pounds."

"A long, lean angel," Alan said, his voice breathy with passion. "A long, lean angel with a hot little pussy. You don't realize how long I'd waited to touch my cock to…"

"Don't! Don't talk like that."

"Touch my cock to your wetness. And when I got inside your pussy it was even better than I'd dreamed." Alan was a little drunk now. He grabbed her wrist tightly, squeezing it until she looked at him. "Do you realize what that feels like to a man? To a man who hasn't had any sex with a woman for over a year?"

"No," she whimpered.

"Even though I didn't really get very deep, the feeling was overwhelming. You're right, Amanda. Very, very tight. But you're soft inside, too. And juicy. And hot!" Alan was trembling, his fingers tight enough to hurt her wrist. Amanda winced, but he didn't let go.

"I don't want to hear it."

"Just thinking about how it felt makes me want more, Amanda." His eyes were crazy.

Amanda felt like crying. But her cunt had begun to throb. She didn't want it to throb. She wished she had no feeling whatsoever, no memory of the strange thrill that Alan had caused. It was no use, though. As she squirmed under the blanket, she could feel the lubrication letting her outer lips slide together, slide over the swelling nub of her clit.

"It turns me on to see that leather collar on you," Alan babbled on. He had the leash in his fingers now, winding it tighter. Amanda let her head drop, waiting for what she feared most. Alan stood, then gave the leash a jerk. His look told her he wanted her on all fours. Amanda obeyed, trying to keep the blanket over her shoulders. Alan jerked it away and flung it down in front of the fireplace.

He pulled her towards the warmth of the crackling logs. She was whining, sighing with fearful anticipation. She thought of begging, of pleading. But she knew it would do no good. Alan had started to tear off his shirt. His jeans fell around his ankles and he stepped out of them. She never lifted her eyes. But when his skivvies hit the floor before her, her heart almost stopped.

Alan took something from his pack. Amanda recognized it as a squeeze tube of butter, the kind made especially for backpackers. She waited there on her hands and knees, trembling and afraid. Alan got down behind her and she heard him squeezing the tube. Then his hot, buttery fingers caressed the outer surface of her mound.

Unable to hide her reaction, Amanda moaned low in her throat and her back arched up as Alan spread the slick stuff over her flesh. Her fevered cuntlips had opened now and he was buttering the dainty folds inside. The way his fingers caressed her, pressed up into her taint, made Amanda shiver violently. She bit her lip, trying to find a part of her mind she could retreat to, where she could find peace. But Alan seemed to know exactly how hard to pet her. And he knew where, too!