Chapter 1

The first woman I took against her will was the English Mistress at the exclusive private school at which I was then a star pupil.

I had, for some time, lusted after Miss Howard (NOT her real name). It was both a joy and a torment to sit in one of her classes and watch her large, unfettered, breasts move beneath the starched white blouses she invariably wore. One could just make out the pinkness of her nipples and areolas through the crisp fabric. She had good legs, too, which she showed off by wearing the shortest skirts compatible with her position in the school. Miss Howard had ignored my attempts to establish a personal relationship and had slapped my hand when it had 'accidentally' brushed those magnificent tits. I determined to rape her.

I became the perfect student, the blue-eyed boy, the exemplar of the Upper-Remove. So, during Rag Week, she was easily persuaded to help raise funds for the charity supported by the school by becoming a 'hostage'. She was happy to be imprisoned in the old box room while I wrote the ransom demand and - she thought - delivered it.

Of course, I did nothing of the sort.

The box room was an old music room and had been well sound-proofed in the past to spare students and teachers alike endless repetitions of misplayed versions of 'The Bluebells of Scotland'. I locked Miss Howard in the room with a bottle of wine which I hoped she would drink in my absence. 'Candy is dandy, ' said an American poet, 'but liquor is quicker.'

When I returned, about an hour later, she had finished the bottle of claret but was not at all happy. She demanded to know the whereabouts of the rest of the Upper-Remove and when she could expect to be released.

'I'm sorry to inform you, Miss Howard, ' I said in my most serious voice, 'that the Parents and Teachers Association Ltd. have declined to pay your ransom. They are demanding proof that you are, indeed, being held in durance vile.'

'What nonsense!' she said. 'I'm afraid this silly business has gone on for too long. You had better untie me!'

I had made a token effort to fasten Miss Howard to an eye bolt in the wall, with cotton rope, as part of the 'hostage' scenario. She had not thought to undo herself.

'I think the sort of proof usually sent by abductors is a little bit of the victim's anatomy, ' I said as I moved behind her, 'an ear, or a little finger usually!'

She snorted, 'The PTA would like that! Hey! What are you doing?' I had untied her from the eye-bolt and quickly seized up both wrists, binding them together behind her back. 'You're supposed to be untying me!'

'But I'm not, am I? No, ' I answered my own question, 'I'm making sure your arms are secure before I undress you.'

I reached around and squeezed her right breast. 'Have you been raped before?' I asked conversationally.

Miss Howard looked at me blankly. I detected a hint of fear in her big brown eyes I squeezed her tit again and smiled at the frightened teacher.

'Untie me at once, you wretched boy!' she gasped, 'Or I shall report you to the Principal! This joke has gone much too far!'

'It's no joke and I'm not a boy... as you're going to find out!' I said aggressively. I discarded my blazer and shirt.

Miss Howard backed up against the wall. She tried a different approach.

'Look. Just let me go and we'll forget all about this, this, er incident!' Her tone was conciliatory.

I started to unbutton her blouse.

'Stop it!' she yelled, 'Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!' but I paid no attention and soon exposed her perfect breasts which had been the object of my daydreams (and night dreams too) since she had taken over Eng. Lit. 'A' from a crusty old bore, whose name I shall omit.

I felt the weight of each smooth mound. I stroked each pinky-brown areola and gently pulled at each firm button of a nipple until they began to grow. She began to gabble.

'Don't do this! Oh! You'll be sorry. This is sexual assault! Ah! You've gone too far! Oh, my God!'

'Do be quiet!' I said as I removed her belt and skirt, 'Or I'll ram your knickers down your throat!'

'Please, ' she whispered as I tossed her skirt into a corner, 'W... what are you going to do!' She was panting with fear and, judging by the state of her nipples, sexual excitement. I stroked her mons veneris through the sheer fabric of her panties. My fingers detected a slickness between the lips of her cunt. Her juices were indeed flowing.

'I'm going to fuck you, ' I said. 'If you do as I tell you, you won't get hurt. Now, get on your kneesand push your tits out!'

Miss Howard didn't move.

'I want to see your tits at their very best, ' I said reasonably, but she remained hard against the wall. Her lower lip was trembling. She was about to burst into tears.

'Right! Miss Howard, ' I hissed, 'You want it rough!'

I ripped her blouse off and shredded it, then twisted the material into a rough rope. I used this to bind her arms together behind her back so her superb bosom stuck out. She looked wonderful, like the figurehead of some old ship.

I slapped each firm breast hard enough to set them quivering and to make the teacher whimper, more with fear than with pain. I toyed with the idea of making her perform fellatio but was afraid that, without a ring gag, she could do me some damage.

As I sat on one of the trunks in the box-room to take off my shoes and socks and she spoke again - quietly but desperately.

'Sebastian, don't do this thing. I've done nothing to deserve this!'

'But you have, ' I replied, 'Don't you remember?'

She looked puzzled.

'What?'

I took off a shoe and waved it at her.

'You encouraged me to think about rape. You were very enthusiastic about my essay on the subject. Remember it, "In Defence of Tarquin"?'

'But that was an appreciation of Shakespeare's verse!' she cried.

'It was also an appreciation of how well Lucrece got fucked and how much she liked it, ' I replied, stepping out of my school flannel trousers and revealing an erection the old Roman would have been proud of, straining against my underpants. 'You remember I argued that she wouldn't have topped herself had she not enjoyed the experience?'

Miss Howard licked her lips. She was probably thinking that if she could engage me in conversation about literature she could delay the sticky business I had so carefully planned.

'She was ashamed, sure, but... ' the teacher began in her best classroom manner but I didn't let her finish.

'Stand up!' I ordered.

'What... ?' she began.