Service Provider Ch. 01-13

One morning, Matt informed Lauren that the day of her first test had arrived. The three of them were sitting in the kitchen. "The test includes two parts. One is pain, the other is humiliation. Are you ready to submit?" It was practically a rhetorical question, since the girl's whole demeanor had instantly changed into one of excitement, her skin flushed and eyes shining.

"Yes, Matthew." They went to the den, where Janice had set up an old, unused cat-scratching device. It was a two-foot high pole covered with carpeting. A small but thick cushion was balanced on top. Janice stripped Lauren and applied oil roughly to the beauty's body, applying the greasy liquid on Lauren's breasts and ass with harsh slaps. Matt inserted a ball gag into her mouth. Janice told Lauren to kneel with her ass against the pole, legs crossed behind it. Matt bound one ankle to another. Janice inserted a spreader bar between her knees and fastened cuffs to both elbows. Matt pulled the elbows back to her ankles, forcing the girl's back to arch over the top of the pole until the cushion rested in the small of her back. Lauren grunted from discomfort. Her head was hanging upside down, her breasts pointing straight up, her pussy spread.

Janice applied cloverleafs to the tips of each long, thick nipple and attached cords to the clamps. She tied the cords tautly to a ceiling hook while Matt took photos of the tortured, glistening girl. He ordered his mother to kneel in front of Lauren and suck her cunt while he took a flogger and began lashing the girl's belly, thighs and breasts. The tawny skin quickly reddened and blotched. The combination of expert sucking and the sting of the whip brought the writhing girl closer to an orgasm. She knew she could handle this level of pain.

She never expected the next step. Matt exchanged the flogger for the cane and began methodically striking the helpless girl, first with blows to her ass from underneath. After a half dozen screams, he rained a torrent of blows onto all sides of her breasts. He paused only to stretch the breasts upward another couple of inches, distending the distorted mounds and especially the nipples. Lauren groaned, but her pelvis never stopped thrusting against Janice, who had added a thumb into the girl's cunt and a large finger into the girl's ass.

With great care and precision, Matt struck each nipple, obscenely stretched to an inch and a half, on all four sides. Lauren shouted in an obliterating orgasm, cumming as Matt struck the other nipple from all four sides, the girl climaxing repeatedly. Matt threw down the cane, pushed Janice aside, knelt in front of the girl, and grabbed her slippery hips. Janice slid underneath them both and started to lick his heavy balls while shoving three fingers into her own cunt. Matt shoved his cock all the way up the girl's cunt, cumming himself after only a few strokes, but pulling out while he was still shooting, aiming his load on the girl's tortured nipples. The heat of his burning jism on her ravaged nipples threw Lauren into a final climax. Janice shouted out her own climax. Mother and son collapsed on each side of the limp slave girl. The only sounds were three people gasping for air, accompanied by the sound of oil and cum dripping off Lauren's torso onto the floor. She emitted a strangled cry when Janice unclamped the cloverleafs and blood returned to the beaten nipples. Matt pulled the gag from her lips. "Did I pass Part One?" she asked in a hoarse voice.

"With flying colors," Matt said. "You were great."

" How soon do we do Part Two?" Lauren asked.

Next up: Janice's return to the Headmaster, where she relives her experiences as a student in the same office.

Chapter Four — Ansonia Academy, 2nd Session

Janice, obedient to the long-distance will of her dominating son in college, arrived on campus and entered the vestibule of the administration building. She felt electric with excitement. Standing in a dark corner of the dim vestibule, she furtively opened her blouse and applied the clamps and weights, sighing deeply from the cutting pain and buttoning the blouse with difficulty. She hoisted her skirt and fastened the second pair of clamps and weights to her labia. Walking slowly to the second floor, she knocked on the Headmaster's door promptly at 5:00 p.m., wearing her uniform. He had heard the clicking of her jewelry even before she knocked. She had replaced the ripped, soiled white thigh-highs provided earlier with a charcoal gray pair. She hoped he would understand that it had simply not been possible to attach the nipple clamps, weights and chains over the blouse.

"Good afternoon, Janice." He noted how aroused she already was, the jewelry beginning her well along the path of severe pain and pleasure. She stood in position in front of his desk, staring at three new rows of photos. "Pull up your skirt and tuck it in so I can be sure you've clamped your pussy lips." She complied, showing her strong, long legs and silver adornments, in such contrast to the tanned, olive skin. "Very good."

He showed her the first row, wherein she was tied upside down, drenched in cum and cream of wheat, pussy lips clamped and tied wide, clit lassoed. "I'll bet this posture was not too difficult for someone so supple from yoga. And it's a relief to see your thighs have been caned."

He studied the middle row, where she stood in front of the curtain rods. "Yes, your back and thighs are now striped. See how good your tits look, banded by the black straps above and below them? My goodness, your nipples look as if they're two inches long from the clamps on that hanger! I see this is the first group where you're looking into the camera lens, as if you want that long cylinder up your cunt as well."

Gratefully, there was only one more set. "Yes, the classic French maid at dinner time. Your front looks magnificent since your tits are enclosed in – what are those, napkin rings? – and your nipples are tied off. And I see both your cunt and ass are filled with dildos, lubricated by gobs of heavy 'whipping' cream – how appropriate! A sense of humor is essential, especially when you're wearing that cute cap at such a rakish angle. Anyway, that's enough of your family photo album. Let's discuss a different sort of history. Janice, I need to understand your . . . proclivities and . . . tolerances. Were you ever disciplined when you were a student here at Ansonia?"

"Umm, yes, Headmaster."

"Who administered your punishment?"

"The—the previous Headmaster."

"I see. Were you reprimanded more than once?" This was the first question that surprised and flustered her.

"Oh, yes sir!"

"How many times?

"Um, I don't know, I mean I can't remember."

"Why not?"

"Well, sir, it happened so many times, you see." He raised an eyebrow, waiting for more. "I mean, almost on a weekly basis."

"Describe your punishments. What forms did they take?"

"I'd been reported to the Headmaster for constantly fidgeting in class, so during summer session, near the end of a day like today, he sat me in a chair and strapped my knees to the corners. Since the chair had no arms, he strapped my wrists behind my back. Then he left and let me sit there for a half hour."

"Let's recreate it so I'm sure I understand." She spread her thighs and he strapped them tightly to the corners, causing her short skirt to ride up her thighs so much that he could see the lace tops of her stockings, her bare thighs, and her panties. Behind her, he wrapped a strap around her wrists, forcing her breasts to strain against the tight blouse. "How did you feel about being tied?"

"First, I felt humiliated. Then, as I was waiting for him, I began to feel . . . excited by the situation. When Headmaster returned, I complained that I actually had trouble breathing. I thought he would untie – or at least loosen – my wrists, but he thought my difficulty was because my blouse was so tight. So he unbuttoned it down to my skirt and pulled it open beyond my bra. He was actually correct – I did breathe easier." Knowles unfastened the blouse and pushed it to the side of her bra, relishing the site of her clamps, weights and marks, her breasts so marked they looked like a road map of a city. Her chest was damp with perspiration.

"Were you wearing the same bra and panties?" he asked. She nodded. "And you were not yet a senior?" She shook her head. "Were you as fully developed then as you are now?" She nodded again. "How did you feel with your blouse open?"

"I kind of liked it, especially the attention, so I tried to distract him from his paperwork. After a minute or two, I asked him how long I had to sit there. He complained that he was tired of hearing me whining, and forced a ball into my mouth. Well, my Phys. Ed. Teacher had told me my body generated a lot of moisture: on my skin, in my mouth and in my vagina. She said, 'These are natural functions of the body and not a problem.' Here I was, perspiring on a hot July afternoon and leaking from my mouth all over my bra. When the Headmaster saw that, he said I was disgusting and told me to stop ruining my bra. I shrugged my shoulders, helpless, so he unclipped the bra and revealed my breasts. 'Now your saliva won't ruin your bra,' he said."

"I was ashamed that he'd bared my breasts, which he ogled. But since it was so hot, they also felt cooler. He couldn't concentrate at all on his work any more, so he removed his belt – one like yours. He told me, 'Normally, girls are disciplined with a caning on their bottoms, but since you're a special case, a fidgeter whose bottom is not currently accessible, I'm instead forced to whip your breasts.' I was shocked. He struck me a half dozen times. Even though it was only a belt, it still hurt like hell. When he had finished, I was only half awake, in a daze from the shock and the pain."

Knowles realized she was staring, not at his bulging pants but at his leather belt. He removed it and pulled her breasts out and up, exposing the wealed undersides. He whipped each one. She actually licked her lips. "What then?" he asked. Instead of continuing, she stared at her breasts until he pulled her nipples again, but downward this time, looking at him imploringly. He swiped the top of her breasts with the belt. "Mmmmm," she moaned, and finally resumed the story.

"He untied my knees and pulled off my panties." Not willing to untie her legs, Knowles took a scissor from his desk and sliced through her panties, removing the tatters. The site of her, scrunched up beneath him, breasts and pussy so close together, made him hard. Her belly, so heavily marked, never failed to please him. Her ripe shaved pussy, opened by the spread legs, was beneath his gaze. "I was still speechless. He then pushed my feet up onto the corners of the chair, tied my ankles there and untied one of my hands." Knowles did the same. "The next thing I knew, he pushed my legs wide open and stared down at my . . . privates (like you're doing now). I heard his zipper go down. "Rub yourself," he ordered. I stroked my clitoris." She began stroking herself. Knowles opened a cabinet drawer, returned with a small clamp, pushed her hand aside and fastened the clamp on the hood of her clit. "Unngghh!" she groaned.

After taking several seconds to compose herself as best as possible, she stroked her pussy and continued speaking in a halting manner. "It felt so hot to be rubbing it, tied and spread in front of him." She was getting excited to the point that she was flustered. "He grabbed my hand, held two fingers together, and said, 'Put them in.'" Knowles searched his shelves and saw an old novelty pen, the oversized kind that contained a dozen pens of different colors inside a two inch diameter shaped-shaped covering. He smeared lubricant on the six-inch pen and screwed it into her cunt.

"Yesss . . ." She paused so long he slapped a breast to focus her attention. "I was so wet . . . my fingers made squishing noises . . . which embarrassed me." She was so aroused by the makeshift pen dildo that she was having trouble remembering her thoughts. He pulled the pen almost all the way out and rammed it back home. "Suddenly . . . suddenly he was . . . what's the word . . . straddling the chair, his penis in my face. I didn't even think, I just took him in and did what came naturally . . ." Her words had trailed off. She was perspiring heavily.

"What . . . came naturally? Speak up!" He slapped the other breast to revive her.

"His penis ejaculated in my mouth and I never thought twice about swallowing it, all of it. Then I had an orgasm so strong I remember the chair bouncing around beneath me! With my fingers still inside me, he pulled his penis out of my mouth. I still remember long strands of. . . semen and saliva hanging in the air between my lips and the head of his shaft, kind of like those bridges made of rope, before they fell all over my breasts and stomach."

Knowles undid his zipper, pulled out his cock and inserted it in her mouth. She massaged his balls with her free hand. She was such a voracious cocksucker that he came after two minutes. "Do not swallow," he gasped. He withdrew slowly so that thick strands of cum extended between her lips and his cock before falling onto her breasts. He stuck his cock back in and withdrew a half dozen times, photographing, until her chest was coated with his entire load of cum.

"After untying my hand and legs, the Headmaster forced me out of the office so fast I had no time to clean up or even adjust my bra, which was humiliating, and I completely forgot about my panties. At the door, he said, 'Your session is not yet complete. You are to return in exactly one week.' I stared at him, surprised but also excited. At the door, I said, "Yes, Sir, I'll be prepared." I knew that word caught his attention and would leave him wondering for a whole week as I walked out.

Knowles unstrapped her hand and knees, ordering her to stand in position. "Continue."

"The next week, after Headmaster ordered me to strip, he pushed me face down over the corner of his desk, tying my arms and stuffing my mouth with the panties from the previous week." Knowles thought of a variation and moved his desktop sandbox so it was positioned beneath her. He unscrewed her nipple clamps and pushed her down, crushing her breasts into the coarse sand, and fastened her wrists. She sucked in her breath in pain from the clamp removal. She was surprised by how uncomfortable her breasts felt from the sand. "He moved those two small tables in your conference area, one on each side of the corner your desk. He made me kneel on them." Knowles moved the two tables from and positioned them as she'd said. They were six inches lower than the desk. She climbed on, a knee on each table. He saw the merit of this intriguing position. The raised knees angled her ass upwards, making her holes easily accessible. The weights hung lewdly below her pussy. "Headmaster whipped me. Afterward he inserted himself in my . . . ass . . . and took his pleasure."

Knowles whipped her back and ass a dozen times until her groans tapered off, and then held his cockhead at the entrance to her anus. When he did not enter her, she pushed back until her sphincter enclosed him, and then began pumping against him. He simply stood there, allowing her to do the work until they both climaxed as she pushed up and down on his entire length like a maddened machine. He flipped her over, sand coating the freshly whipped breasts. Her head hung over the far edge of the desk, a perfect angle for receiving his shiny cock. He slid it in and she cleaned him off, slurping noisily. He pulled out and moved back to her legs, positioning them so her vulva was at the edge of the desk, legs wide, feet braced on the two lower tables. With his belt, he whipped her directly on the cunt for a half dozen strokes until she came again, whereupon he jacked himself off with a few strokes until he sprayed a second load all over her mound. He grabbed his suspenders and adjusted the semi-conscious woman until the suspenders were fastened on her. As he cinched them tighter, the black fabric sank into her slit and ass cheeks, forcing his cum out of her rear channel, drenching the material until his spend oozed down to the floor.

He slapped her black-belted mound until she groggily came to and, grabbing her sandy breasts, pulled her off the desk. "Stand up and put on your jewelry." She arose slowly, the pressure from the suspender hurting her. But she managed to clamp and weight her sand-covered breasts and pussy. "Now get dressed." She grimaced as she fastened the too-tight bra over her aching breasts. She felt even more degraded by the cum on her mound saturating and staining the skirt.

"What happened next with the Headmaster?" he asked.

"After a year of weekly sessions he ordered me to Mass and Confession with Father Hood, to correct myself for being so wanton. The Headmaster said he was good friends with the Father and would check to make sure I attended."

"Did you obey?"

"Of course," she said, remembering the Father fondly.

"I'm also in close touch with the Father," the young headmaster said. "You are scheduled to meet with him again, but not immediately. For your next session, you'll be serving drinks and dinner to the executive board of the Academy at their annual, private meeting. As a board member, I will be attending and supervising you. This session completes your private payment with me, although I may call you back any time, as I see fit. Dismissed."

"Thank you, Headmaster." He watched her shuffle in pain down the hall. He knew she was unaware of the drops of cum dripping from her mound and cunt to the floor, leaving a dotted trail behind her on the rich, gleaming floorboards.

To come: Close encounters with Cecile, Lauren's harridan of a mother. Does she discover her daughter's true nature?

Chapter Five — Close calls

During the next few months, there were a couple of close calls with Cecile, the mother of Matt and Janice's next-door neighbor, Lauren. Two took place at Matt's house.

One night, Matt had arrived home and immediately taken Lauren, speechless from a ball gag, into the den, shutting the door. A few minutes later the doorbell rang and there was Cecile, smoking a cigarette and looking annoyed. Janice was always startled at her beauty, and the fact that she looked like Lauren's older sister rather than her mother. Their lustrous light brunette hair was identical except that Cecile's was cut short, although not as short as Janice's. Faint sounds came from behind the den's heavy door, the sounds of a flogger – or crop or cane – striking bare flesh. "Does Matt know where she is?" Cecile asked, without preliminaries, in an impatient tone.

Janice hated to lie. "I don't think Lauren's spoken to Matt since yesterday." This was true, since Lauren was usually wordless around Matt unless he asked her a question, or unless she had something special to say.

Cecile cocked her head. "What are those noises?" she asked. Janice had to think fast, distracted by the sounds, which now included muffled screams. She wondered which area of the girl's body Matt was whipping. "That? Oh, that's just Matthew watching wrestling on TV."

"Oh," the woman said. "All right." Without a "Thank you" or "goodbye," she went back to her house. Janice watched her fantastic body as she walked away. At 37, Cecile's figure was almost the same—and almost as great—as her daughter's.

The second incident occurred one weekend evening. Janice had followed Matt's instructions, ordering Lauren to strip down to her stockings and heels and kneel in the front entranceway facing the double doors. Janice dutifully clamped the girl's plump pussy lips, fastened the clamps to cords and tied them off to brass eyelets embedded in the floor, used to hook open the double front doors.