Beaten and Broken

Amy Price looked into the mirror. Her own deep brown eyes stared back at her, set in a pale face which contrasted with her dyed-black hair. She looked into the mirror a little longer, considering what to do with her hair. She settled on pigtails, a look she had previously detested, but it did seem to turn a few heads last time she wore it that way. Besides, she was sure she'd overheard Steve say that she looked cute in pigtails to one of his friends, and she liked the idea of catching Steve's eye. But as she looked back at her own face she realised that, cute as it was, she needed something more to stand out from the crowd. She selected a shorter skirt than usual, a pleated one which ended mid-way down her thigh. Exciting, but not slutty she liked to think. Then she looked back into the mirror. Dare she wear make-up? Make-up had been the start of her ordeal last week, and she paused while she wondered whether to risk it again. She thought about the cane's stinging blows, the burning pain, the feelings of invasion and objectification that she'd suffered for simple make-up last time. And then she thought of her hobble to the school bathroom, desperate to wash her face but still whimpering in pain with each step. Then she thought of Steve, his easy smile and innocent good looks. And then she defiantly said into the mirror "fuck you, Headmaster" and liberally applied red lipstick and black mascara. But once she'd done it, she couldn't help the memory of the cane stubbornly re-emerging as well as the slight twinge in her stomach which had started to accompany that memory; it was a bizarre twinge, like a mixture of fear and more arousal than she would like to admit. Amy shook her head, confused.

"Amy, time for school!" came a call from downstairs. She shook her head once more, and walked out to the car. It really was time she learned to drive for herself, after all, she was eighteen and didn't like the way her mother still drove her to school like she was a child. She grudgingly sat down, slouched in her seat. "Oh Amy, please sit up straight" said her mother. There was something about her tone, Amy thought. Something that implied she was a nuisance, an annoyance. Her mother seemed to have been using that tone a lot recently.

"Mum, stop treating me like I'm a little kid. Slouching isn't gonna kill me."

"Please Amy, it looks terrible you know." She used that same, slightly annoyed, tone. As if Amy's slouch was a speck of dust on her otherwise-immaculate image.

Mum, leave it..."

"And is that lipstick? Amy, you shouldn't wear that to school. And look at your skirt! It's far too high!"

Amy had had enough. This constant criticism had been going on for far too long, and she let out a blunt "fuck off, would you?"

Her mother's expression of cold disapproval turned to outrage. "You'll walk to school if you're going to use that kind of language."

"Fine."

The walk was undoubtedly going to cost her time, make her late for school. Normally she would have cared, but not today, relieved as she was to experience the catharsis of blunt defiance. She took a deep breath of the cool autumn air and smiled as it cooled her. Then she began walking to school, a satisfied smile on her face.

By the time she approached school, she was feeling more nervous -- she was half an hour late, later than she had ever been before. She was also increasingly conscious of her short skirt and her make-up, nervous of drawing attention to herself while wearing them in case the Headmaster saw. She tentatively pushed open the heavy iron gates, and walked towards her classroom, but as she turned the corner, she saw the headmaster walking in the opposite direction.

My, my, Miss Price, running a little late, are we?" he said, patronisingly.

"Uhm... yes sir, the car broke down," lied Amy.

"Are you sure, Amy? It looks to me as if you spent a lot of time putting make-up on this morning. You know that make-up is against the rules."

"Well... yes sir, but, I, ah..."

"My office. Now, Amy."

"No... please sir..."

"Yes, Amy, it seems as if you have not yet learned your lesson."

Amy turned as if to run away, but the headmaster grabbed her shoulder.

"Don't try to run, Amy," he said, "you will only make it worse for yourself. Now, go to my office."

Timidly, Amy walked into his office, and stood in the same place she had last time, opposite his desk. "Do you think that you can come to school dressed like this? Like a whore? Look at that skirt, and that make-up. Do you think that this is appropriate?"

"No sir, but..."

"But nothing, Amy. Bend over the desk."

"N... no, sir, I won't do it," she stammered, surprised even at herself.

Suddenly, the headmaster grabbed the back of her neck and forced her to bend over the desk. "I said bend over, Amy" he hissed. He strapped her down onto the desk, and she found herself unable to move her legs or torso. This time he also strapped down her arms. She felt totally helpless once more, and gulped nervously. He stood in front of her, and she looked up at him with her eyes while keeping her head bowed, attempting to look as innocent as possible in the hope that he would go a little easier on her, but as she looked at him she saw that his eyes seemed cold and merciless. And then she saw that cruel smile once more. "Miss Price, to begin with you will receive five strokes with... hmm, the paddle, I think."

"Y... yes sir" she said, her eyes wide open in fear. She felt the paddle being placed on her arse, and then he pulled his arm back, preparing to strike. She breathed in deeply, as her heart seemed to thud against her ribcage. She still had to sit down gingerly from the last caning, and she gulped as she prepared for more pain.

There was a loud "SMACK" as the paddle connected, and Amy let out a yelp as she felt the pain spread across her. It seemed to run down the marks where the cane had been like a river of fire. Then the second one blow hit her, and her legs reflexively tried to kick back, but she was powerless against the straps that bound her. The third next three blows rained down on her as she struggled helplessly against the restraints. The excruciating pain was unbearable for her, and tears began to flow freely. Once the paddling had stopped, she lay limply on the table, sobbing. Through her mask of tears, she saw that the headmaster had pushed a button on his intercom.

"Mr Keats, to my office, please."

Amy's tears dried, but she felt a new wave of fear wash over her. Mr. Keats was the PE teacher, a tall, powerfully built man in his twenties with blonde hair and a stubbled face. Amy had always thought of him as ruggedly good-looking, but since he was a teacher she had never made these thoughts known. Still, she couldn't stand the thought of him seeing her like this, and she knew she couldn't take a caning delivered by those massive arms, with muscles that seemed to strain against the skin as if wishing to be free.

Mr Keats arrived quickly, and strode confidently into the headmaster's office as if it was his own. When he saw Amy restrained he grinned like a hungry animal with evil, lustful eyes.

"Keats, Amy here thinks this is appropriate attire for school."

"Do you know what the boys think of you if you do this, Amy? They look at you like a piece of meat, like an object for their gratification. Do you know how that feels, Amy?"

Amy shook her head, attempting to make her face as girlishly innocent as possible, still fervently hoping that this would make them lessen her punishment.

"Well you're going to learn, Amy." He removed her restraints and said "stand up." She stood up shakily, a little surprised, but relieved. "Now, you are going to do exactly as I say, or you will be spanked, do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Firstly, to understand how the boys see you when you dress this way, you are going to strip for us."

"B... but sir..."

"No buts, unless you would rather receive a caning."

Amy knew she couldn't take another caning, and she looked down timidly as she took off her shoes, then she meekly began to undo the buttons on her shirt. She could feel her cheeks turning bright red as she did it, and she kept her eyes glued to the ground until all the buttons on her shirt were undone. Then she nervously slid it off to reveal a black bra covering her small, milky white breasts. Mr Keats' grin stretched wider as he said "very nice, Amy. Now, the skirt." Amy looked up at him, and she saw that he was staring at her breasts. A part of her was flattered by the attention he was paying to her body, and she looked at those powerful arms and thought about his toned arse. Then she realised that she was starting to get wet.

"No... sir... please" she said, desperate to hide her wetness from the two men.

"Now, Amy."

Amy slowly slid off her skirt, keeping her legs tightly together as she did so. She risked a look upwards and saw Mr Keats' had a huge bulge in his pants. She gulped but also felt herself becoming even wetter. She tried to cover her panties with her hands as naturally as possible as she stood in front of the two men in her underwear. She saw the headmaster go for the cane and began to tremble.

"Please sir, don't... not again..."

"Relax Amy, this is just a little reminder of my authority," he said. Then Mr Keats spoke.

"Take off the bra."

"O... okay..." Amy slid off her bra to show her small but perky breasts. She felt her pink nipples stiffening in the cool air they had suddenly been exposed to. The headmaster took a couple of seconds to stare at her breasts, appreciating them as if they were a fine work of art. Amy blushed a little more, this time because she liked the attention and the appreciation of her body, though she would never admit it. Mr Keats spoke:

"Lie down on the desk, on your back." Wordlessly, Amy complied. "Now, spread your legs."

She kept her legs shut close together.

"Now."

"N... no sir."

"Suddenly the cane came crashing down on the desk, right next to Lola's ear. She jumped and opened her legs wide, allowing the men to see that her panties were soaking wet. She remembered that she had worn white today, and prayed that they were not so wet that the men could see through them.

"Amy, you seem to be enjoying this a little too much," said Mr Keats

"I have just the solution in mind" said the headmaster, his eyes focussed on her breasts. "Restrain her, Keats."

Both men forced her arms to the legs of the desk and tied them down. Then they tied down her legs and finally, the strap was placed around her waist so that she couldn't move once more. The headmaster reached into one of the draws behind him and pulled out a black and red ball gag.

"From now on, you have lost the right to speak. You will have this right reinstated when either me or Mr Keats believes that you have earned it." Amy kept her mouth shut tight as the headmaster approached with the ball gag. "My, my, Amy, I hope you don't think that your little show of defiance is going to be effective." He nodded to Mr Keats, and Keats grabbed each of her nipples between thumb and forefinger, and then slowly started to twist each one. Amy clenched her fists until her nails started to dig into the skin of her palms as the pain intensified; her eyes were shut tightly in and soon fresh tears sprang forth and started to roll down her face. Mr Keats twisted and twisted until she felt as if her nipples were going to be torn off, and she opened her mouth and screamed in agony. As soon as she did, the ball gag was roughly stuffed into her mouth and fastened into place. Mr Keats continued twisting her nipples and she howled muffled screams through the gag.

"That's enough, Keats," said the headmaster, a little angrily.

Reluctantly, Keats released his grip on Amy's nipples, and she her relaxed her clenched fists, her tense body going limp once more. The headmaster looked at Amy and saw that her tears had smudged her makeup, making the mascara run in dark rivers down her face. He said "Mascara, Amy? What did you think you were doing? Clearly, these punishments just aren't getting through to you. It seems I must resort to the belt."

Amy shivered with fear as she saw him remove his leather belt and hold it above her aching breasts. Then the belt came down, striking at her breasts and her nipples as she writhed in pain and struggled in primal fear against the restraints which bound her. The furious blows rained upon her and she bit down hard into the ball gag which muffled her anguished cries. Finally, the beating stopped. Then she heard the headmaster say "Keats, is she still enjoying this?"

"She seems to have dried up, sir." Amy realised they must have been staring at her panties, and despite her predicament, she still found herself feeling somewhat embarrassed.

"Excellent, she should not be enjoying this. No reason you can't, though."

Mr Keats smiled and pulled a pair of scissors out of the draw, and cut away Amy's panties. "Please, untie her, I'll have more fun that way."

The headmaster smiled and undid the restraints. Amy was lifted off the desk by Mr Keats' powerful arms, and she stood looking at him, and saw that the huge erection in his pants had not diminished. He took off his shoes, his socks and his shirt, and she couldn't help being a little impressed by his six-pack abs. He slowly took off his pants, smiling as he did so. Then came the boxers, and Amy stood naked, vulnerable, and confronted with his massive erection.

"It's... it's... huge" she gasped without meaning to, and it was. She estimated that it was a good four inches longer than the headmaster's, and he was a well-endowed man himself. He strode confidently towards her, grabbed the back of her little neck in his massive hands, and bent her over the desk. Then she felt it. His massive cock was pushing at the entrance to her arsehole. Her eyes wide open in fear, she frantically shook her head and cried out a "no, please, no!" muffled through the gag.

"I think she's trying to tell us something" said the headmaster. Mr Keats didn't seem to intent on obeying Amy's wishes, but the headmaster had that cold, cruel smile Amy had so often seen, and he said "don't penetrate her, not yet, Keats. I have an idea." Reluctantly, Keats pulled away from Amy's arsehole. "Now Amy, I am going to ungag you, and you are going to say exactly what I tell you to say." Amy felt the strap around her head being undone as the ball gag was removed. Mr Keats moved to stand in front of her. "Now, get on your knees." She got onto her knees and looked up at the two men. "First, repeat five times 'I am a dirty slut.'"

"I... I am a dirty slut" she said, nervously.

"Louder, Amy."

"I am a dirty slut. I am a dirty slut."

"Louder, clearer."

"I am a dirty slut! I am a dirty slut!"

"Very good. Now, like a dirty slut, you are going to beg for Mr Keats to fuck your pussy."

"I... I... but..."

"Now."

"P... please, fuc-"

"Please sir."

"Please, sir, fuck my pussy."

"What do you think, Keats? Will you take her pussy?"

"I think she's going to have to do better than that if she wants to avoid anal. Amy, lie down on the desk and spread your legs wide for me."

Amy carried on kneeling, frozen for a moment. Then she saw the headmaster pick up his belt. She darted towards the table, but not before a stinging blow found its way to her back. She lay down, flinching as her aching arse scraped along the desk. Then she lay back, and blushing, she slowly spread her legs while the two men stared intently at her pussy.

"Well Keats, she's yours' first."

Keats smiled as he walked towards Amy, then he did something which surprised her: he knelt down and began to lick and kiss the inside of her legs. He kept kissing, moving down the inside of her thighs while his hands explored her breasts. Despite the pain in her breasts and her arse, she felt her body responding to his teasing kisses, and struggled to contain a small gasp as his tongue approached her pussy. His mouth reached her lips and she moaned, then he started to lick and suck at her clit. Amy moaned louder; this was the first time any man had ever gone down on her, in fact, it was her first sexual contact apart from the rape she had suffered at the hands of the headmaster. As he licked her faster, she started breathing rapidly, surprised at his expert touch.

"Amy, you must ask permission before you cum" said the headmaster.

Amy would have liked to believe that this was not going to happen, that her body wouldn't respond to Mr Keats' touches, but she could feel herself nearing climax. She fought it for as long as she could, tried to take her mind away from the man licking and sucking her, so expertly caressing her clit with his tongue, but she knew she could not fight it. Growing desperate, she shouted "please, may I cum?"

"Not yet, Amy. Not yet."

"Urgh... please..."

"No, Amy."

"P... please sir, I need it!"

"Not yet Amy."

"Please! Please!"

"No."

"Ugh... God... PLEASE SIR!" she screamed.

"I am going to count to ten, when I reach ten, you may cum. And then I expect you to thank me and Mr Keats."

"Y... urgh... yes sir!"

"One."

"Urgh..." she moaned.

"Two. Three."

"God... fuck..."

"Four." Amy was panting hard, she felt like she couldn't fight it.

"Five." Amy's hands clutched vice-like around the desk legs as she did everything she could to fight it.

"Six."

"Fu... urgh... fuck..."

"Seven. Eight."

Amy's face had turned red with the strain, and her face was a mask of concentration as she tried to hold on through the last exquisite, exhilarating, agonising seconds.

"Nine." He stayed silent for a couple of seconds, watching her struggle, and then he said "ten."

Amy threw her head back and screamed in ecstasy as she came. Pleasure seemed to flood from her dripping pussy and flow through her body. Her grip relaxed on the desk as her breathing slowed, the tension flowing away and her orgasm subsiding. She looked up at Mr Keats, wild-eyed. "Fuck me" she said.

She wasn't as ready as she thought she was for his huge cock slowly pushing its way inside her, and she panicked and tried to pull away. Angrily, he grabbed her legs and started to force his way inside her.

"No, please, I'm not ready..."

"That's not what you said a moment ago."

"But I... I... I don't know what I can take..."

Mr Keats stopped for a second, and smiled deviously. "How inexperienced?" he said.

"I'm... still a virgin" she said.

"I had no idea this was going to be so fun" he said, as he grabbed her hips and, in one powerful thrust, forced his whole length inside her. She screamed in pain at the sudden assault, and tried to push away with her arms, but the headmaster seemed to have anticipated this, as he had walked around the desk, and as soon as she started to struggle, he held down her shoulders. She writhed against his grasp as Mr Keats continued to roughly fuck her pussy. The headmaster adjusted slightly, laying a forearm over her chest and leaning on it so as to prevent her moving, and then, with his other hand, he grasped one of her aching nipples and twisted it. She started to cry in pain once more, and Mr Keats started grunting. His eyes were closed. Though she would never admit it, Amy had watched a fair amount of pornography, and knew that he would soon cum.

"N... aaarrgh! Not inside..." Her nipples were tweaked harder. "Please! Don- aargh! Don't cum inside..."

Keats gave one final, painful thrust and then grunted "wasn't going to..." Gripping his cock in one hand, he clambered on top of the desk, astride Amy. He pointed his cock straight at her face, and started jerking it. She knew what was about to happen, and she tried to look away, but the headmaster had grabbed the sides of her head and was pointing it straight at his cock. His cock seemed to explode, spraying her with jizz as if from a hose. Her face was drenched, splattered with his sticky white cum. The tears ran rivers through it as she cried from the pain and the shame of feeling like a little slut. The headmaster grabbed her and bent her over the table once more. He restrained her again with practice ease, and pulled out a leather strap. This time there was no lecture, no formality, he simply beat her arse with animalistic aggression as she screamed and pleaded with him to stop. She howled as the strap stripped away the flesh on her arse, and begged and begged him for mercy. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, and more pain than Amy had ever known before, he relinquished. She kept sobbing, her arse seemed to be on fire and she could feel blood running down her leg. And then she felt the old gag go in, the one which prevented her from biting down but allowed things to be put in her mouth. The one she had been facefucked with last time.