Chapter 2

Having 'broken in' Miss Howard (not her real name) in the box-room, I looked forward to more sex with the big breasted blonde teacher. I was sure she would say nothing to the school authorities. I had pointed out that it was her word against mine and if she cried, 'Rape!' I would whisper 'seduction' - and what's more, 'seduction of a minor'

The stupid woman took no notice. She reported me to the Principal. She accused me of rape!

My performance as the innocent victim was, I thought, most convincing. My phoney account of how she lured me into the box-room, fed me wine and took my virginity made the Principal blush. The upshot was that Phoebe Howard was given leave without pay 'until the matter could be resolved'.

I too was sent packing. My guardian, an older brother, had failed to pay the school fees. This gave the school reason to get rid of me and avert a potential scandal.

On the street, broke and homeless until my brother's ship came in, I decided to make Phoebe Howard pay for her stupidity. I found out where she was living from the Bursar's Office before leaving the school. She had rented a run down little terrace house in the industrial area. That night I waited in the shadows until she came home then I jumped her.

I grabbed her key. As she struggled, I lifted the hem of her summer dress and, sliding my hand over her smooth belly and into her pants, I roughly seized her cunt. She merely whimpered as we entered her shabby little house.

Phoebe Howard stayed dumb with shock as I ripped her dress off her back. I made sure she stayed that way by gagging the frightened woman with some of the resultant rags and some silky material from her bra-cups. I tied her hands behind her with the same rope I had used in our first encounter.

'You silly bitch!' I said, with feeling, as I peeled off the dark colored track-suit I had worn to stalk my victim. 'You've ruined your career and my education! And I'm going to make you pay! You're going to provide me with board and lodging... and other creature comforts!'

Her eyes grew round as, to illustrate my point, I discarded my underpants and thrust my erect penis under her nose. She shook her head. I nodded.

'Yes! But first I'm going to punish you for your silliness and teach you who is master in this house!' I said and took my riding crop from the sports bag.

I flogged her knickers into scarlet tatters.

Each cut raised a livid welt on her smooth round bottom. To my surprise - remember, I was at this time quite young and inexperienced - Phoebe Howard's muffled cries of pain eventually took on an eager note. Her nostrils dilated, her eyes half closed, her breasts heaved and her plump pink nipples sprang to attention like guardsmen. It occurred to me that my erstwhile English mistress was becoming sexually aroused!

I reached for the damp vee which showed through the torn panties. She pressed her knees together but I gave the front of her thighs a tap with my whip and she opened her legs. Her cunt was juicy.

'You're eager to be fucked again, aren't you?' I asked.

Phoebe's eyes filled with tears. She didn't move.

'You must answer when I speak to you!' I said, and to give emphasis to my words I slashed the crop across her swelling breasts three times in quick succession...

Phoebe threw herself backwards in an automatic response to the sudden, shocking, pain. Her scream was muffled by the gag or it would surely have been heard even in the sparsely inhabited industrial suburb where she had found shelter. Red ridges marred the creamy whiteness of her large breasts.

I stood over the trembling figure, whip in hand.

She scrabbled at the remnants of her knickers with her bound hands, pulling at them until the ruined material parted. She spread her legs to show her neatly trimmed blonde bush and pinkly glistening twat. Her eyes, wide with pain and fear, begged me to spare her tits further punishment. She raised her hips, offering me her cunt in surrender.

I bent over Miss Howard's recumbent form and gently flicked each nipple with the leather loop on the end of my riding crop. She stiffened, expecting the worst.

'So you are eager to be fucked again?' I repeated.

She nodded furiously.

'Whenever, and however, I say?'

Phoebe nodded again. I knelt astride her waist, ignoring the proffered pussy.

'Because if you once show the slightest reluctance to oblige me, Miss Howard, I shall take my little whip to these!' I said, putting down my riding crop and grabbing two fistfuls of tit. She tensed as I lay my erection between the throbbing mounds and squirmed in agony as I squeezed them together either side of my swollen penis and rode her, hell for leather.

The tit-fuck didn't last long. I was too excited. I came quickly and copiously.

I smeared the warm gism over Phoebe's battered breasts, which seemed to soothe them and when I removed the gag she thanked me!

She had little to be thankful for. I had brought with me a stout eye-bolt and a length of chain which I attached to a strong point in the wall above her bed. She said nothing as I wound the end of that chain around her middle and padlocked it in place.

'Well, Phoebe, ' I said as I fastened her upper arms together in order to force her breasts to stand proud, 'you have only yourself to blame for your present predicament. You should have kept quiet about our little, er, encounter in the box-room.'

'You raped me!' she said tearfully. 'I had to report you! What did you expect?'

'I expected you to use your common sense and be like Dad, keep mum!' I joked.

Miss Howard didn't laugh so I thoughtfully rolled on a condom and tested the sleeping arrangements. Things were a bit tight, but I wasn't complaining.

Money was tight, too. Phoebe had spent most of her savings and I had none. The next morning I left her chained up and took Phoebe's few jewels to a pawnshop. Mr Isaacs (not his real name) gave me a fraction of their value but showed he could be relied on to take 'hot' items. He thought they were stolen. When cash ran short during the weeks that followed I stole jewelry and small items from houses and cars and Isaacs took them all.

I also took any sex toys I found during my burglaries. Phoebe dreaded my return with yet another harness, whip or strange vibrator which I would oblige her to use. During the day, when I was in the house, she was unchained - naked, of course, and in high heels lest she should be tempted to make a dash for freedom. She was writing a novel.

At night, my sex-slave and erstwhile tutor was fastened to the bed in one position or another for my pleasure and amusement. She seldom climaxed during my rough 'love-making'. Afterwards I'd beat her and make her masturbate until she did. She dreaded her nightly ordeal by rape and never became inured to the shame and humiliation she endured at my hands.

Phoebe particularly disliked being sodomized. It was only necessary for me to hint that I intended to penetrate her anally for my blonde sex slave to become very distressed. With her neck chain attached to her strapped ankles she was in no position to object, but she tried. She begged me, sobbing, 'Not that way! Please, Sebastian! F... fuck me properly. In my c... c... cunt!' (Phoebe still had problems saying the 'F' and 'C' words as she once called them)

Her tearful pleas only increased my intention to bugger her.

How she wept as I warmed up her tight little sphincter with my riding crop! The tears flowed even faster as I unrolled a thick walled ribbed contraceptive - marketed under the trade-name 'Ass Bustah' - onto my swollen prick, scant inches from her eyes.

She was still begging me to 'spare' her as I parted her tightly clenched buttocks and smeared a dollop of lubricant on her arse hole. Phoebe howled as I inserted the hard rubber tip of the special condom into her rectum and screamed with increasing intensity as each rib was forced into her trembling body. She passed out as I rode, booted and spurred, to my climax.

While she was recovering from her latest ordeal, I told Phoebe that we were going to have a visitor the next day. Rebecca Isaacs (not her real name), the fence's daughter, had decided that I would make a satisfactory boy-friend. Rebecca was a self-confident little brunette. She wore a ring in her nose and, she hinted, other parts of her anatomy. It had been all I could do to stop her following me back to Phoebe's sad little house, 'to get to know me better'.

When I explained to the eighteen year old that I was in a special relationship with an older woman - a masochist who demanded to be treated as a sex slave - she expressed disbelief. Rebecca suggested that she be invited in to meet '... your fantasy female! Cos' if you're lying you're gonna need to find another outlet for your stolen goods, Sebastian, honey! If you're not, we could have some fun together, eh?'