The art student held still, knowing that one wrong move, even a sneeze would offset her pose and anger the teacher. She thought back to the moment the teacher, Mr. Hardy, had first approached her about posing for her fellow classmates.
"Art," he'd said, "requires the artist to do things she would never normally do, like posing nude for other artists." At the time, she couldn't bear the thought of doing something so offbeat. Posing nude, being nude around others, wasn't natural for her. It wasn't a comfortable idea for her, being nude. She had a great body, she knew that, though she never flaunted the fact.
Exercise and art, the two things that kept her days busy -- and school. Still, she did know that many college students took on odd jobs to earn a little spending money, so she'd told Mr. Hardy that she'd consider his offer to pose nude. "How much would I be earning from posing, Mr. Hardy?" She asked hesitantly. Money, after all wasn't a polite topic of discussion she'd been told often by her father, but in this case it was for a job.
"Money? My dear Elizabeth, this is not for money, this for experience."
"Experience...?" She couldn't help but wonder if she could really even do such a thing as pose nude for anyone; albeit her classmates or strangers.
Mr. Hardy was beginning to look impatient. "Trust me, you'll be fine. Most models learn to stare off into space, allowing their minds to drift into fantasy. They think of a variety of things to keep their mind off their present situation."
As she was doing now...
Elizabeth concentrated her attention on the far wall and let her mind wander. Mr. Hardy had put on her a leather mask, one that covered most of her head. She liked it, it helped to cover her embarrassment over the fact that she was also holding, lazily, a leather crop across the golden curly hairs of her pubic region. Again, a blush as she thought of her own body and how it was poised. Her upper weight was heavy against her right arm, which was propping her in place. Her left leg was bent, knee pointed to the ceiling and her right leg laying, bent and resting on the table she was using as a stage. Her ankles almost touched and her left arm was draped casually across her stomach, the crop held by her left hand.
Elizabeth wondered what it'd be like to have a masculine hand holding the crop, having him whip it across her blonde pussy. She felt herself blush again, under the leather mask at that naughty thought. The blush didn't last long as she recalled Mr. Hardy mentioning that models usually sank into a fantasy while posing.
Relaxing, she thought of more: herself wearing boots, heels so high, she knew she couldn't walk in them -- nobody could have. That didn't matter, the lack of ability to walk, what mattered was how it tightened the leg muscles, stretched them, made the legs look long and sleek. She had an urge to run her hand along her own thigh to feel the muscles under a light touch. She closed her eyes halfway as she imagined those boots, black and shiny, covering her legs to mid-thigh.
"Uh hum." Her eyes opened wide as she looked in the direction of the low sound. Mr. Hardy was there, not far away shaking his head. Oh. She realized her eyes had closed, causing problems from the would-be artists.
Elizabeth refocused her attention to the far wall and concentrated on a cobweb she'd noticed earlier. She'd noticed it yesterday but didn't pay much attention to it. Now however, she needed the distraction, needed to focus. Needed...
Her thoughts drifted back to her boot covered legs. She'd always wondered what it'd be like to have a man pay attention to her legs. To make love to her toes... A blank. Her mind drew a blank as her inexperience over such things begins to show itself. With a heavy sigh and a barely noticeable shrug of her shoulders, she returned to staring at the cobweb.
Mr. Hardy's voice broke the quietness of the room, "Okay, Class, if you're all done with your initial sketches, we'll move on to something else." Elizabeth snapped out of her self-induced trance to sneak a glance at her art teacher. He was over in the corner, digging deep into a large cardboard box. "Class, we're going to try something new today, something a bit extreme, but I think you'll enjoy the variety. Elizabeth, hold still while I set up for the next pose."
She watched him, warily, uncertain as to what he had in mind. She was already in a position that took a lot of courage to get used to, even in this setting. She tried to look at the bundle in Mr. Hardy's hands, hoping to catch an early glance of what he had for her to wear. As he approached she saw what looked like a blunt object in his hand, peeking out from between other indiscernible objects. He maneuvered his way around the tables and easels and came to stop before her, setting his bundle down carefully, as if they were prized treasures.
Elizabeth's eyes grew wide at the array of toys and other sexual paraphernalia. Some items she noticed, had nothing to do with sex and it was those items that caused her the greatest concern. She felt a light sweat start to bead her forehead and armpits as Mr. Hardy began to add to her costume. As she watched, or tried to, Mr. Hardy gently cuffed her chin in his delicate hand and repositioned her head so she faced forward. Now, she couldn't see what he was doing to her.
She felt a cool, thin object brush against her belly and moved up toward her breasts. His warm hand cupped her breast and the fingers of his other hand pinched her nipple erect. She let out a small gasp, not in pain, but in surprise at the way he was handling her. She knew she couldn't complain, he was only setting her up for the next step so the art students could continue to draw and not lose interest in their subject matter.
So it was, with a false bravado that she forced herself to stare straight ahead and allow Mr. Hardy to move the cool metal object up to her now erect nipple. She jerked as she felt a sharp pinch on her nipple, something she'd never encountered before. She glanced down and saw her nipple pinched tightly in a metal clamp. The pinch was so tight that her nipple was almost flat in it's grip. Elizabeth felt a small surge of moisture seep from her crotch. Pussy juice or urine, she didn't know which it was, but hoped that it wasn't noticeable. She tried to hold back a tear as her body attempted to get used to the sharp pain. She didn't want her teacher or her fellow classmates to think she was a baby, unable to handle a little...a lot...of pain.
Not just pain, but humiliation too. For now, Mr. Hardy was positioned between herself and the students so they didn't know what he was doing to her. Soon though, they would find out and she had to wonder what their reactions would be to this new development. She mentally shrugged her shoulders and let Mr. Hardy continue to decorate her body. She thought the other nipple would also be clamped, but she was wrong.
Mr. Hardy reached down and positioned the clamp onto one of her pussy lips. She jumped slightly from this intrusion into what is normally a very private region for her. Never had she been handled in such a way; touched here and there, in such a rough manner. He touched her as if her body was an inanimate object, something to toy with, something to use. She hoped the time would speed up so that she could get dressed and be rid of the painful clamps, mask and silly boots.
Wait...she thinks to herself. Hope and curiosity arise within the young model as she feels Mr. Hardy's hands on one boot, unzipping it and then sliding it off her leg. She hopes this means something good, something less humiliating. She only wanted to be poised in a way that other student models had been poised in the past.
Her hope for a break faded and then diminished all together as she felt the boot being positioned near her anus. Now she was blushing furiously. The tip of the heel was laid against the opening to her anus. It wouldn't have been so bad, except that Mr. Hardy had physically spread her cheeks in order to get the boot positioned to his liking. The students that had a view of her from that side of the room gasped and then giggled quietly as the tip of the heel settled into position.
Elizabeth sighed in relief as she realized that Mr. Hardy wasn't inserting the boot heel into her anus. She wasn't sure she could handle having a five inch heel inside her. She'd never even had anything inside her anus, except natural materials and that was all.
As Mr. Hardy stepped aside so that the students could view the new pose, Elizabeth blushed a deep red under her mask. It took all her concentration to keep from making eye contact with those staring eyes. Dozens of pairs of eyes, all of them opened wide and staring at her as if they'd never noticed her before now.
"All right class, enough of the ogling. We're here to draw, not raise our testosterone levels. But, it wasn't just the men that seemed to be getting turned on; many of the women were also gaping, looking hungrily at her body. Elizabeth, as with everyone else, had been drawn to Mr. Hardy's voice as he commanded the room to settle down and begin work.
In her line of sight, was a man she'd noticed before but had never bothered to meet. This was Joe, a medium built man with ice blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. She'd wondered about him, as she often wondered about those she'd never been acquainted with. Wondered what he was like; what his voice sounded like; what his hands would feel like on her body. Yes, she wondered a lot about people, men to be specific, yet had never had the courage to approach any of them -- especially him. Now, in her mind, she could approach him and he couldn't escape her, but could she escape him.
Her mind played out the fantasy that had been interrupted earlier: Her toes. Her imagination started out blurry, at first; nothing much showing in it, except that the icy, blue-eyed Joe had approached her, and laid a hand gently on her bared leg. In her blurred imagination, his hand started stroking her calf lightly. She let her imaginary eye focus on that hand. She wanted a sense of it: touch, sight, sound, taste and even smell.
Drifting into her self, she unconsciously continued to stare at Joe as she focussed on each of her senses. Touch came easily enough and his was a sensuous one, she'd decided. A soft hand, a hand rarely used to handle heavy tools. His was a touch that was so light on her leg that it felt like a feather tickling down her leg.
Her imagination watched his hand left a trail of goose bumps along her calf as his tender hand approached her ankle and circled it. She looked up into his eyes and saw an intensity there that she'd never seen in eyes before today. As she felt his fingers glide down to the arch of her foot, she saw his intense gaze shift to wonder. Her foot jerked, instinctively as his finger inadvertently tickled her. "Uh hum." She snapped out of her reverie as she heard Mr. Hardy's muffled attention getting cough.
Now she knew her imagination had improved, for her foot really did jerk at that imaginary touch of Joe's hand. She smiled inwardly, knowing that to feel that much was a good sign. But, it wasn't enough; a feather light touch is nice, but it isn't very arousing. Now she needed to incorporate sound, taste and smell into her little fantasy.
Her mind moved on to her toes, the part of her that had intrigued her the most, before Mr. Hardy's interruption. In her mind, she places Joe at her feet and smiles as she lets herself float into what could or perhaps -- would happen next...
A gasp and her heavy lidded eyes fly open, there's a sucking sensation on her toes. Warm, soft lips were pursed round the last 2 toes of her foot and sucking on them. She felt a flutter deep within herself as she felt a moist tongue lick between her toes...forcing them apart, so as to get all the way in between. She arched her back, instinctively, as pleasure emanated from her toes and along the length of her leg. Upwards until... Oh, she'd never imagined it could be like this -- warm, wet, soothing; yet very erotic. Very erotic, indeed.
Elizabeth leaned her head back, causing her long blonde tresses to tickle lightly across her shoulders and down her exposed back. Her nipples hardened as the imaginary mouth continued to massage her toes, until each had been given attention. She felt the boot heal that was propped against her anus, shift slightly. A low murmur was building around her. She could sense the noise, but her mind only portrayed it as back ground noise -- only a part of the scenery.
The sound of it, those murmurs lead her to wonder what it'd be like for her and the icy, blue-eyed Joe to perform in front of a crowd. She heard a sucking noise increase as the crowded murmured in approval. She loved it, this imaginary exhibitionism; she'd never known anything could be so arousing, so erotic, so...so... Damn, she was getting so aroused, she couldn't even think properly anymore. So, she did the only thing she could at this point, she let herself continue to float...
She shifted her ass, ever so slightly, trying to get the boot heel back into position. Instead, it shifted away from her anus and dropped onto the table. A hush fell over the room, not one pencil could be heard making that distinctive scratch of graphite on paper.
Mr. Hardy looked up from his desk and saw the boot in it's new position. Elizabeth, feeling quite horrified and nervous, stared as he approached her and came to stand before her.
He reached for the boot, roughly, and gave her a stern look, "I asked you to hold still, Elizabeth. Now, you've upset the delicate pose." With those words he once again, using one hand, spread her cheeks and forced the heel up inside. This time, he wasn't gentle. This time he was rough. This time, he meant for that heel to stay.
Elizabeth gasped and did her best not to squirm as she felt the boot heel slide in deeper. Mr. Hardy pushed it in until it felt like only about an inch was left on the outside. "Consider this punishment for your disobedience. Next time, follow my commands and you won't be handled so harshly."
She stared up at him, sadness in her eyes. He reached down, cupped her masked face in one warm hand and held her face gently. "Be a good girl, listen the first time and don't move."
He waited until Elizabeth nodded her head, before heading back to his desk. As he neared his desk, Elizabeth shifted ever so slightly again, purposely dislodging the heel until she felt a bit more comfortable. She hoped he didn't notice...
"Oh, Mr. Hardy?!" A shout went up from behind her. Oops... "Mr. Hardy, Elizabeth shifted again!"
Mr. Hardy turned on his heel and returned to Elizabeth...
Mr. Hardy stopped abruptly before her, she felt herself cowering as he stared down at her. She knew she'd gone too far this time and she knew an apology would not help her. Not now. She trembled as he quietly stood before her, intense eyes looking down into her own. She was thankful for the mask, knew it was keeping her from breaking completely breaking down in sheer panic. Mr. Hardy reached down and removed the clip from her clit. She felt a surge of tears well from her eyes, a renewed surge of moisture from her pussy as her pussy was freed from the painful bit of metal. She mentally thanked God for the relief, but it was short lived. As she sat there, doing her best to hold still, Mr. Hardy placed the clip on her other nipple. She gasped, inhaling deeply as the new pain coursed through her body. She felt moisture running down her thigh, tickling her as gravity pulled it down to the table.
She watched him, out of the corner of her eyes, wishing she could close them, to mentally hide from what is yet to come. She knew there had to be more than just clipping the second nipple. She just knew it...
Her body began to relax as the worst of the pain subsided. She felt her breath evening out, her heart calming...
A scream pierced the silent room. A scream so loud that every head in the room jerked up, looking to see what had caused their model to let out such a God-awful noise.
Elizabeth sat there, tears running out of her eyes and down her cheeks. Mr. Hardy backed up and looked over at the students, practically daring them with his eyes, to advance on him and intrude on what he was doing to the model. "Remain in your seats, everyone" he said loud and clear. "Elizabeth knew what was expected of her; knew that she wasn't supposed to move while posing." He turned back to his model.
"Elizabeth, be a dear, and dry your tears so the class can continue its work -- and smile for the class." As he said the last part, he stepped back so that the students could get a clear view of Elizabeth.
There she was, the lovely blonde Elizabeth, smiling, though definitely not in joy; wearing her tear streaked mask, a boot on one leg and the other with it's long heel crammed back up her ass; both nipples were clamped tightly, and; the crop in her left hand, shaking slightly as her body suffered silently from all the pain. Now, though, there has been one...no, two, items added: Close inspection revealed that her clit was now viciously clamped with another of Mr. Hardy's evil looking clips. But, unlike the nipples, there was a long, thin leather leash attached to this clip. Eyes followed that leash... Followed it, until the looped end was seen clearly being held by Mr. Hardy himself.
Mr. Hardy sat in an empty chair, near the model, and announced, "Class, have no fear for I can now assure you that your model will sit still until I say she can move." Elizabeth, eyes wide in horror, tried to listen as Mr. Hardy continued to talk.
"Elizabeth, you are the worst model I have had to date, but I believe I have fixed that problem now. If you should feel the need to move, close your eyes, or even lose your smile -- I will pull on this leash -- pull very hard." He gave her a meaningful look, and the smile he showed her was the most sadistic smile she'd ever seen.
Elizabeth's heart was beating hard, all thoughts of using her imagination gone now that she was faced with this awful threat. She wondered to herself is she could remain like this for the rest of the hour. She prayed she could...
She mentally willed her body to relax. She knew that she would be okay, free from serious pain if she could just keep from moving. The heel in her anus wasn't really that painful, just very uncomfortable. She used it as a new topic for her imagination, which she found she could use to her advantage.
Once again, she let her mind drift, making sure she continues to smile though it was far from being a real smile. She picked up where she'd left off before: the five senses. She knew she'd achieved touch and sight, but could she use taste, sound or even smell this time? She concentrated on the boot heel, tried to enjoy the feel of it there, deep in her ass. The odd feeling that she needed to go to the bathroom was strong, but she decided she'd just ignore the phantom urge.
She envisioned the handsome Joe standing behind her, toying with the boot. She sighed lightly, in her mind, as she imagined what it'd be like to have him slide the boot in and out of her anus -- fucking it. She felt her body respond to that last thought. She zeroed in on it, used the word to arouse her senses.
Yes, if one could read minds, he'd be amazed, impressed and borderline disgusted at what he saw there -- not in the deepest darkest recesses of her mind -- but in the forefront. A thought so clear, so vivid, so dark, that anyone would blush.
It was the thought of being fucked by that very long, very pointy boot heel, that now brought a smile to her face. This time, it was a very real smile she was wearing. A smile that indicated a pleasure so intense; yet, not one person around her knew of what was going on in her mind...and in her body.
She felt his breath upon her back, the breeze lightly blowing across her skin as he moved the boot in and out. She wanted to shift so badly, to give herself a better position for the heel, but knew that moving wasn't a good idea -- not while Mr. Hardy's hand was on the other end of that leash. Her body responded to the heel better than she expected; better than she ever dreamed possible. In her imagination, she arched her back; instinct caused her muscles to act as if she was having a bowel movement, this helped the heel to go deeper. She sucked in her breath, now thoroughly enjoying the heel.
She felt herself getting wet, again, as her imagination continued to work; continued to gain strength. She basked in the knowledge that nobody knew what was going on in her mind and to her body.
No. Nobody knew a thing until nature took over...
Elizabeth hadn't realized that all the clamps and clips that had been squeezing her clit and nipples could create pleasure, as well as pain. She hadn't realized... Until now. She forced herself to concentrate even harder to prevent the inevitable from happening. Her body felt like it was on fire as the cum sluiced it's way down her vagina and made its exit. She stared at the Handsome Joe so that her eyes wouldn't give away what had just happened.
As she stared at Joe, Mr. Hardy got up from his seat, set down the leash, and approached Elizabeth. As he neared her, he bent to look closely at her pussy lips...and the thick white goo that had collected in the well-groomed hairs. He stood up, without saying a word and looked first to Elizabeth and then, over his right shoulder -- to Joe. No noise. No comment. Nothing. Mr. Hardy seemed to be deep in thought so the class, collectively, stopped working on their sketches, to see what he was up to now.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Mr. Hardy motioned to Joe. "Joe, come up here. I want you to help me out with this next pose."
"...But, Mr. Hardy, my grade for this draw..." Joe stammered, meekly as Mr. Hardy, stood to his full height, stated again, with more authority and a deadly calm, "Joe, come up here. I want you to help me out with this next pose."
Joe, sensed the futility of arguing and, after having felt a twinge of fear, got up from his seat -- almost tripped over his tripod -- and came to a clumsy halt in front of the mock stage. "Wha...what do you need assistance with, M...Mr. Hardy." Joe blushed slightly, embarrassed over his childish stammer and having to stand so close to the uh...lusciously naked Elizabeth. Oh, how he had longed for an opportunity like this... To stand so close to a gorgeous woman and her not in a position to escape him.
As Elizabeth continued to stare forward, refusing to even shift her eyes in the smallest amount, Mr. Hardy took Joe, by the elbow and moved him to the end of the table that Elizabeth had been occupying for a long painful 30 minutes. She didn't know what was to come, but she suspected Joe would be, in some way, joining her in the pose.
She was correct.
She felt Mr. Hardy's warm, thick fingers brush against her thigh. A rush of goose bumps ran up the length of her leg until it reached the peak of her womanhood -- her clit. She blushed, slightly as she felt a renewed excitement touch her inner self. She hadn't expected that, not from this man. She loathed the thought that his lightest touch could affect her body this way -- and her mind. But, it did.
There was a giggling rising up around her. She wished she knew what was going on, but she could only feel Mr. Hardy's hand working the boot off her leg. She was glad to be rid of it -- it was too warm, caused her foot to get sweaty. She didn't like sweat. Sweat was for men.
This thought startled her. She hadn't thought negatively of men in a long time...not since all those pranks her brothers pulled on her when she was a child.
She brought her mind back to the present, back to Mr. Hardy and Joe. "Wow," she thought to herself. "My mind must have really drifted,"...For there was Joe, already set up in the pose with her, though not on the table.
She still couldn't see him. She could, however, feel that her toes had been pried apart and there was a warm wetness coating her smallest toe. She also knew that, since Mr. Hardy had moved back to her end of the table, he -- Mr. Hardy -- had completed the positioning of Joe. She wanted so badly to crane her neck and see how Joe was positioned.
Elizabeth couldn't afford the luxury of thinking of Joe, though; nor his cold fingers upon her toes; nor that warm wetness. She had to prepare herself for Mr. Hardy's next assault on her body. She knew that whatever he had planned next for her, it would be a dozy. Nothing small or insignificant would do now -- not after all that had been done to her.
Mr. Hardy stared at Elizabeth intently for some time before retreating to his mysterious box. Elizabeth took this opportunity to look over at Joe and --
And saw him standing there, bent over the table with his hands splaying her toes apart and his warm sensuous mouth enwrapping her baby toe. A shiver of pleasure coursed through her, now that she knew what was going on with her foot. Yes, she did like having Joe there...at her foot.
As Joe watched, with puppy dog eyes staring up to the gorgeous blonde-headed Elizabeth, he felt his cock growing. He knew he should be humiliated, standing there with his own legs forced apart and her toe in his mouth. He knew he should be humiliated, yet he loved knowing that this was out of his control, that he was only doing as another bade him to do.
Joe watched Elizabeth as she cautiously shifted her eyes to look upon him. He knew that he'd really be embarrassed if anyone noticed the raging hard on he was now sporting. He wanted so badly to suck that toe. He wanted more than ever to suck more into his mouth -- just one more toe. Yet, he knew, from watching Mr. Hardy and Elizabeth, that he'd be severely punished it he did attempt to suck a second toe into his mouth.
So, with that thought in mind -- the wish to suck more toes and the thought of punishment, Joe, behaved for Mr. Hardy. Elizabeth on the other hand, was caught once again. As Mr. Hardy turned from his box of goodies, he saw Elizabeth shift her gaze from Joe, back to the forefront.
Mr. Hardy, upon seeing Elizabeth shift, turned angrily back to his box and threw in whatever it was that he held in his hands and retrieved another item. Elizabeth couldn't see, as usual, what it was, but she knew from his actions that she'd been caught.
She felt Joe begin sucking furiously upon her baby toe -- a sign of anxiety over Mr. Hardy's anger? Probably. She wished she had something to fiddle with, something to take her mind off Mr. Hardy and his terrible temper. She wished...
She wished she'd never agreed to be his model for the art class. She wished, fast and hard, for time to turn back to just an hour ago. An hour before. An hour. That's all she wanted -- that one hour of her life back. She wanted.
Her eyes opened wide -- terror, pure terror drained the blood from her face. She looked. She saw. But she couldn't believe. She didn't want to believe. Yet, she had to believe.
"Elizabeth, I'm going to give you a choice. I realize that this is all new to you." Mr. Hardy swept his arm breezily, almost gracefully, in the direction of a group of students, as if to accent his speech. "This business of being a model isn't for everyone, but I'd had such high hopes for you. So, with that in mind: I have decided to give you a choice."
He produced, for her inspection, a wooden baseball bat. She cringed, eyes widening as she drew back, in shock and disgust, at the thought of being brutally beaten with the bat. No, she thought, she didn't want that. But would he have done it? Beat her in front of all the students? She decided he was mean enough to do just that. And if he didn't plan to beat her with the bat, then what was it's purpose? No, she definitely didn't want to know.
She pulled her eyes from the baseball bat and looked into his other hand. A small bottle containing a red liquid -- Elizabeth recognized it right away, from its label, but that didn't lesson her hesitation and confusion over the item. She thought to herself, as she stared at the small bottle in Mr. Hardy's firm hand: Tabasco sauce was for cooking, how could it harm her? So, without a word, she quietly pointed to the bottle.
Mr. Hardy's face brightened, "Excellent choice, Elizabeth. Excellent!" His smile seemed genuine as he shook the bottle and cautiously uncapped it -- making sure to spill none of the liquid. Elizabeth smiled in delight at finally pleasing this man, then forced it to disappear as she remembered this was going to be punishment.
Mr. Hardy saw the smile, but deigned to ignore it, knowing that the smile was premature, "Now, Elizabeth, this will hurt, I kid you not." How could she believe him with that smile upon his face? "But, it is for your own good -- a good old fashion lesson in discipline. A model, after all, needs to learn discipline -- or she's no good to the artist." He walked around the table and came to a stop directly behind her. He continued his chattering as he removed the boot from her anus. She breathed a sigh of relief as the heal slid free, but cautiously kept up her guard.
She felt his breath, warm on her neck as he continued, "I want you to hold still. No moving. None. I don't even want to see a tear forming in your eye. None." His voice had grown cold, stern, authoritative as he stood behind her, tilting the bottle and letting one drop of red settle to his upheld finger. She had no idea of what was to come and could only stare out at the sea of faces and watch their reactions to Mr. Hardy's manipulations.
Mr. Hardy set the bottle back on the table and used his now-freed hand to pull her ass cheeks apart. Elizabeth did all she could to keep from gasping out. She didn't like all the attention put on her anus -- it was too sacred an area, the ultimate in private parts. She knew her cheeks were reddening under the leather mask that still covered the upper half of her face. Oh, how she wished that the mask also covered her eyes; blinding her to her surroundings; hiding the anxious faces before her; masking her own fright -- and excitement.
Finally, his finger made contact with the rim of her ass. She was surprised and relieved that the finger, presuming it was the one with the drop of sauce on it, didn't enter her anus. She relaxed, glad that this was all there was too it. She felt his finger rubbing along the rim, drawing a circle completely around the small opening there. He rubbed a bit harder and then maneuvered the boot heel back into place. She didn't like that, but since she was already used to the feel of it, she didn't really mind it being put back into the opening again -- besides, she hated that vacant feeling that was left behind when he'd first removed the heel.
She had just felt her shoulder muscles relaxing when all of a sudden, it felt as if her ass were on fire. She gasped, audibly in shock and in pain. "Don't move, Elizabeth." Came a soft, yet very real, command from The Sadist.
The Sadist. The word just popped to mind as pain seared through her ass. She stared out at her fellow classmates, wondering if they knew how she felt at that moment. She wanted to cry... The pain. Oh God, the pain! White searing pain forced her anus to tighten around the boot heel. A spasm that forced the heel to pop from her ass. She could barely tolerate it, but she knew she had to...needed to accept it. She needed the money the job offered. She needed the experience of being a model. She wanted to scream. To get up. To get off the table. To run. To have the last hour back so she could relive it -- sanely, painlessly.
Joe was still there, with her toes in his mouth, but no longer sucking. He knew. She could tell. She still couldn't see him, but she could hear a small whimper escape his pursed lips. Yes, he knew. She felt his arm brush against her leg and then the boot heel being forced back into her anus. The effect from the rough heel helped to ease the fiery pain she felt on her skin. She mentally thanked him for returning the heel to its resting place between her cheeks. No matter what, she knew she couldn't afford to get into anymore trouble with The Sadist.
Joe quietly and cautiously, repositioned himself -- never having released her toes from his mouth -- without Mr. Hardy noticing. She was impressed and owed a lifetime of gratitude to him for this small kindness.
"All right, class, I'm going to be out of the room for about ten or fifteen minutes. I don't want to return and find that my models have moved from their position. I want all of you to be working when I return." Mr. Hardy, now standing in front of Elizabeth, once again picked up the end of her leash and turned to hand it to a woman who looked capable of holding tight to the leash -- no matter how much begging was done to be released.
"Young lady, I know from looking at you that you are a woman of intelligence and unusual strength -- of mind and heart. I leave to you this leash to hold until my return. I know I can trust you -- I see it in your eyes. Do not release my slave's..." He quickly cleared his throat, "I mean -- my model's -- leash until my return." The woman, a few years older than Elizabeth and with long, pretty auburn hair, reached for the leash and held it like an expensive piece of jewellery.
"I'm honoured that you chose me for the task, Sir. I shall make sure your...model does not move during your absence." And with that, Mr. Hardy marched, purposely and authoritatively to the door and out into the hall.
As soon as Mr. Hardy was out the door, the red-haired woman looked Elizabeth in the eyes, smiled evilly, and gave a small tug on the leash. Elizabeth yelped, startled by the sudden pain on her clit. She glared at the woman, while still maintaining her false smile for the would-be-artists. She would have her revenge on this woman one day -- and on Mr. Hardy, as well. For now, she concentrated on ignoring the intense heat of the Tabasco sauce on the sensitive skin of her anus.
She forced her thoughts back to Joe and wondered why he had allowed himself to be a part of the scene. She made a mental note to ask him later -- after class was dismissed for the day. She felt the burn of the Tabasco sauce burn into her body as the minutes ticked by. She hated hearing nothing but the scratching noise of pencil on paper. She hated being forced to remain motionless for so long. She hated -- no -- she loved the pain that was assaulting her senses. She didn't know why, but she found she was still reacting positively, sexually, to it.
She had even felt herself cum a little bit as the burn of the sauce hit her full force. She hadn't realized that it would have such an effect on her body -- nothing here today made much sense. Her brain -- her mind -- spoke negatively of the whole affair, yet her body argued against all logic. Logic. Screw that. She only knew that she wanted to be fucked -- soon. Somehow. Some way. Any way. Soon.
She had just realized she hadn't reentered the fantasy she'd been building up in her mind during the first part of the hour. Now, she wanted more than just the fantasy. She wanted the reality of it -- part of which, she just realized, had indeed come true. The handsome Joe had finally noticed her. She didn't get to waste much time thinking of Joe before her thoughts were interrupted by a noise at the door. The Sadist had returned. She looked in that direction, forgetting her orders -- and sucked in her breath as she felt a sharp pain on her clit. Damn that woman and that infernal leash, she thought to herself as she regained her composure. She took another deep breath and shifted her eyes from The Sadist -- to stare again into space, as he had positioned her earlier.
Mr. Hardy, true to his word, had indeed returned within fifteen minutes and to his relief, he found that the red-haired woman still held the leash in her hand. The rest of the class, with heads bowed over their work, were working feverishly on their drawings. The students, as one, raised their heads to see that Mr. Hardy had returned, with a small carton of milk in his hand. The Sadist walked directly to Elizabeth and stepped around to her backside. "Elizabeth, have you learned your lesson?"
Elizabeth, feeling rebellious, and reckless with her growing need for an orgasm, responded, "What lesson is that, Mr. Hardy?"
Mr. Hardy stiffened. Joe bit down on her toes, none too gently, either. The red-haired bitch tightened her hold on the leash.
Elizabeth cringed as she'd realized what she'd just said to The Sadist.
A hush fell over the room and an air of expectancy electrified the room, as everyone awaited the punishment that would surely befall Elizabeth. The seconds ticked by, their passing echoed by the tick of the second hand on the mass-produced institutional clock. All eyes were on the small group at the centre of the room. Waiting...
And still the seconds ticked by; resounding louder and louder, as the deathlike silence of the rest of the room is prolonged. 'Somebody say something, do something...drop a pencil.' Elizabeth thought frantically to herself. 'Somebody do, say something. Anything.'
Her silent prayer was answered by the sound of Mr. Hardy clearing his throat; speaking calmly, he rephrased his question. "Elizabeth, have you or have you not learned the importance of remaining completely still while posing?"
Elizabeth, knowing now what exactly her tormentor meant, responded in a sarcastic tone, "Yes, Master," She spat. "This slave -- this model -- does understand the importance of remaining completely still while posing." There was a collective gasp as the students absorbed her response. They looked from Elizabeth to Mr. Hardy and back again, expecting the worst to happen. But, their worry proved unnecessary.
She fought with herself, the sarcasm, the fear, the need to please him -- and her fellow artists. She hurt, she was on fire, and she'd been humiliated so much that she knew from this day forward, not much would bother her. 'And why the hell didn't anyone stop him...? Why?' She stared at The Sadist and dared him to do more -- he just stood and stared back. She bared her teeth to him -- again, he just stared back. She knew she couldn't look away, shouldn't look away, shouldn't look down, but...
Elizabeth, with her body on fire from the Tabasco sauce, numb from all the clamps on her body; as well as Joe's teeth digging deep into her toes, and the Bitch's hand on the leash, finally admitted defeat. Her shoulder's slumped slightly, her line of sight dropped low and her head bowed slightly. None of these movements were extravagant, nor exaggerated, but showed the world around her that she was no longer in control of her body -- her very being.