Service Provider Ch. 01-13

The men had a perfect view of her shaved pussy, exposed beneath a sheer G-string so tiny her pussy lips bulged around the cloth. The combination of the tiny size, dark color and transparency was intensely sluttish. In the intense light, several streaks were highlighted on her inner thighs. Her shame doubled, realizing they could all see the emissions from her wet cunt.

"She's such a slut," the Dean marveled. Chaining her own tits has made her wet herself. Did you pee on yourself?"

"No, Sir."

"Then what is that?"

"It's . . . it's not pee, it's . . . lubrication."

"Oh, is that what you call it? And where is your 'lubrication' from?"

"From my pussy."

The Dean yanked on her chains and Janice screamed. "Say it properly."

She took a moment to gather her thoughts. "The juice on my legs is from my wet cunt, Sir."

"That's better." The Dean knelt in front of her, pushed her heels off the tables and shoved her legs together. He thrust his hands under her thighs and raised her off the chair. "Take off your panties."

When she began to slowly remove them, he roughly yanked them off. The sight of her whipped mons, with its dense network of welts, sent him into a new level of excitement, his cock rock hard in his trousers. He pulled her pelvis down to the chair edge, roughly replaced her heels on the end tables, and stepped aside. The Board members stared in fascination at the livid weals and opened pussy lips, glistening in the spotlights. The Dean pulled the crystal stopper out of her slit.

The Dean picked up a couple of objects from a shelf and approached Janice. His extended hand held two clear plastic or acrylic test tubes. One was six inches and the other four. "Do you know what these are?" he asked.

"Test tubes from the lab?" she asked, her voice low with arousal.

"Very good, Janice. You know what to do with them." She stared at him imploringly, but he refused to make eye contact. "Do it—now."

Returning the glass, she took the tubes and looked defiantly at the Dean and two others at the table. She spread her pussy lips and, in order to lubricate it, screwed the short tube all the way into her cunt, shuddering with shame and pleasure. She collapsed back in the chair, hips moving with a minor orgasm.

After thirty seconds, the dean said, "We're waiting." She removed the slick tube from her channel, smeared with juice, and slowly worked it into her ass, shivering with pain while grunting with pleasure. When it was all the way in, she easily rotated the large tube into her cunt. There was silence for a minute, the tubes emerging from her holes in the bright light. She was entirely aware of how incredibly slutty she looked, "Work them." She stared at the Dean, eyes lidded from resentment and arousal. He lifted a wooden ruler from a shelf and struck her breasts, leaving a wide red band across the centers. She yelped in pain but proceeded to push one tube while she pulled the other, moaning nonstop.

The Chancellor could withstand no more. He walked in front of Janice, lowered his zipper, extracted his cock and held it in her face. She removed a hand from the small tube and massaged his balls while she took him into her mouth, sucking and slurping noisily. The Dean removed his pants and shorts and moved in to the right side of the President. Reluctantly, she removed her other hand from the large tube, spat a big gob into her palm and fisted the Dean's cock.

After a minute she pulled out the Chancellor's prick, turned her head to the side and swallowed the Dean's cock, pumping her hand up and down the President's shaft. After another minute, the Chancellor shouted, "I'm going to cum!" and shoved her back. The Dean's cock popped out of her mouth. She moaned with frustration, noticing the Headmaster's cock hanging at her other side. She turned her head and drew it in. The Chancellor knelt and, to her amazement, placed the head of his cock at the opening of the small tube, and let loose, screaming a string of words. "Fuck, yes, oh shit!" The words seemed especially vulgar, coming from his distinguished face. Semen splattered all over her vulva, but his aim was largely true and most of his spend entered the test tube. He simply lay down on the floor right there, too exhausted to move.

The Dean grabbed her hair and pulled her off Knowles' prick, slamming his own cock back into her mouth. She immediately began a hand job on the Headmaster. She sucked the Dean so voraciously that after a couple of minutes he suddenly pushed her away, yanked her forward so he could raise her hips, knelt and exploded into the large tube. Too low in the chair to finish her blow job for the Headmaster, she finished him with a spit-filled hand job as he grabbed the chains and heaved up, stretching her breasts until he sprayed cum all over them and she writhed in a final, guttural orgasm. Throughout all this, the Vice-Chancellor had remained in the background, taking photographs.

The Headmaster addressed the men. "This meeting is officially concluded," he announced, beaming at them all.

Next time, the Boardroom continues: Janice has a solo encounter with the enigmatic Vice-Chancellor.

Chapter Seven – The Boardroom (later the same evening)

Janice awoke groaning with pain, disoriented and uncomfortable, dazzled by bright lights. Metal teeth sank into her left breast, making her pussy tingle. She realized the chains had been removed and she was kneeling on two stools, legs and thighs spread as widely as possible, each leg lashed to a separate stool. Her pelvis was unsupported, hanging above empty space. Her arms had been tied behind her head. The teeth gripping her breast were on the end of stainless steel kitchen tongs, used by cooks to flip items being sautéed or grilled. Thick rubber bands had been placed on the tongs to force the teeth deeply into the breast, making it bulge straight outward. Her torso was shiny with sweat and crisscrossed with the Headmaster's strands of cum. "What's going on?" she mumbled groggily. "Where is everybody?"

"Oh, they all left, the lightweights," a voice she recognized said in a matter-of-fact tone. A hand emerged from the shadows with a second tong and positioned it around the right breast. "It's just you and me now." He added several rubber bands until the pressure became severe and she felt spasms in her cunt. "That was only the warm-up. This is the main event." She could discern him now, the Vice-Chancellor, smiling at her, biding his time, the only one who had remained in the background after she was abused by the Ansonia board.

His hand reappeared, holding a scissor-like clamping tool used by doctors—and in school biology labs. "Have you ever worn a hemostat before? I don't believe so." He twisted her left nipple as she tried to pull away. He closed the scissor-like handles until the interlocking teeth sank into the bulging nipple and locked the handles together. She yelled in severe distress and asked him to stop as he noted her groin gyrating.

"Having you fuck yourself with test tube dildos and give blow jobs is not sufficient for a slut of your considerable beauty, talents and appetites." He immediately applied a second clamp to her other nipple. Her thigh muscles seized in pain from the vicious teeth, and she screamed as electricity shot into her pussy. Her pussy was so drenched she wondered if she was dripping on the carpet.

"However, one would expect a short attention span from the Chancellor and the Dean, considering the Chancellor's advanced age and the Dean's inexperience in matters of this sort. And the Headmaster has a family to attend to." His smile remained. She felt fear and excitement and noticed the test tubes held in a rack on the table, a lit Bunsen burner beneath one of them. Next to the test tubes was a long braided whip.

"But don't worry, we still have both test tubes, filled to the brim for a true cum slut like you. Oh, the test tubes were my idea. The board knows I have eccentric tastes and were kind enough to indulge me by cumming into them."

As the Vice-Chancellor approached her again, a third clamp in his hand, she cried out and desperately tried to retreat from the gleaming jaws. Relentlessly, he positioned the teeth around the prominent hood of her clit and squeezed. "Arrgghh!" she screamed, knowing there was no one else to hear as she rocketed into an orgasm, the three clamps swinging and knocking into her skin as she bucked in a frenzy of lust. She was still cumming in a blinding orgasm when the lashes struck her. With daunting accuracy, he struck her raised arms in the armpits and her breasts right across the nipples, making no effort to avoid the clamps. He slashed her belly, her thighs, continued with a series of blows directly onto her slit, and finished with a slashing blow landing on her clamped clit. She exploded in an anguished shriek of ecstasy, shaking the heavy stools so hard he thought they might topple over. Suddenly, she sank back limply.

Exhausted, Janice was aroused from a state of semi-consciousness when her left pussy lip was pulled open. She half-expected the searing pain of the clamp, which was then tied to the side of the stool. The tong handles had been tied to cords that extended straight up, fastened to the metal track hanging from the ceiling for the spotlights. The effect was amazing: not only were her large breasts pulled vertically, but they were also bulging from the pressure of the tongs. The last clamp was attached to her right labia and tied off. More cords had been tied to the handles of the nipple and clit clamps. Her body was a vast sea of searing arousal.

With hooded eyes, surveying her whipped body covered with the evil stainless steel devices, she stared at the Vice-Chancellor, now naked, and desired his cock, one of the most perfect and beautiful she'd ever seen. She begged, "Please, please fuck me, Master. Please fuck me now." Still smiling, he positioned his cock at her slit, held onto the cords and pulled them simultaneously as he sank his member into her cunt and savagely pistoned in and out. Her groans began nonstop and increased in volume as yet another overwhelming orgasm built in her.

He yanked back her head. Even in her delirious state, pounding her pelvis on his cock, she knew subconsciously what to do – because she wanted it. She opened her mouth as he upended the large test tube into her gaping mouth. Although she tried to swallow all of the hot cum, she choked because her head had been yanked back too far and spewed most of it out in a geyser above her head, drenching her black hair, face, breast tongs and clamps. She came in a twisting, heaving eruption. He held on as if she was a bronco. When she subsided, he picked up the second test tube and slapped her cum-covered cheeks. "Look at me. I'm going to fuck your ass with their cum. Say it."

"Yes, please fuck my ass with their cum, Master." He pulled his cock out of her cunt, poured the test tube contents over his prick and slammed it into her ready ass. He pounded into her and exploded, pumping a massive load into her hot ass, both of them yelling in gigantic orgasms.

Afterward, she was deeply unconscious. He reinserted the test tubes into her holes and photographed her on the stools, the gleaming metal from the tongs and clamps reflecting the light. Her raw pussy lips were stretched open more widely than he'd thought possible. He enjoyed photographing close-ups of her breasts and groin. Before leaving, he removed the tongs and clamps, untied her, laid her on the carpet, extinguished the burner and left her something.

She awoke, naked, sore and hung over on the floor as dawn light entered the windows. She was plastered with scabs of dried cum. She thought of how degraded they'd made her behave last night, how much abuse she'd withstood. An expensive piece of stationery lay on the floor next to her in a puddle of cum that had leaked from her ass and cunt. Lying in it, half-submerged, were her G-string an exquisite red rose. She removed the G-string and placed the sodden item in her handbag. She'd never seen a rose stem with so many thorns, and wondered if the Vice-Chancellor was proud of her. When the school term commenced, a busy bachelor such as he might even need personal catering at home . . .

Upon her arrival at home, she found a note from the Headmaster in her handbag:

"You will be notified of our next board meeting. The board is extremely pleased with your unstinted devotion to duty. The Vice-Chancellor tells us of your remarkable tolerance and high pain threshold.

"However, we will require an additional 'waitress' to be at our complete disposal next time. Please find a server, as strong, capable and willing to serve as you are, whose age is more in line with that of our students. You probably have a young girl in mind already." Janice wondered if Matthew had told them about Lauren.

In the next episode, Matt reveals the inner Cecile.

Chapter Eight — The Real Cecile

Cecile knew that her daughter, Lauren's, heart was set on going to her boyfriend's, Matt's, college. She invited him for dinner at her house with Lauren. She wanted to break the bad news to them together. Although Matt was not looking forward to having dinner with Cecile, he could hardly refuse. He arrived on time, well-dressed in a sports jacket. He handed Cecile a beautiful bouquet, realizing for the first time what an incredible piece she was. She wore a short, tight skirt and skintight sleeveless top, unusually provocative for a weekday dinner.

Naturally, Matt compared her to both his mother and girlfriend. He didn't realize how well Cecile compared until she bent over to serve his beer on the coffee table in the living room, when he realized he had a full-blown hardon. He'd always been blind to her body because she was rarely around and when so, unlikable. As she arranged the flowers in a vase on the coffee table, drinking a huge glass of scotch, kneeling and bending over, he had plenty of time to imagine her stripped, bound, and subservient, her oiled skin twisting in pain and excitement, cum streaks on her smooth dark skin, her shaved pussy leaking all the way down those spectacular, long legs.

Finished with the arranging, she turned to him and was startled to see his eyes boring into her body. Flustered, she said dinner was ready and left for the dining room, aware of his eyes on her as she walked away.

Lauren was quiet as they began dinner, dreading her mother's secret agenda. Cecile had refilled her glass of scotch and was making significant headway on it. Lauren hated her, figuring that Cecile's provocative outfit was intended as competition for Matt's attention. "Lauren, I've decided you're not going to Matt's college, but to the junior college here in town." Lauren was stupefied with shock. Matt realized this dinner should have been a private conversation between mother and daughter. He guessed that Cecile had invited him in order to humiliate Lauren.

"Mother," she said, trying to control her anger. "Why are you doing this? I've already received early acceptance at Matt's school. It's an excellent university, not a mediocre junior college. Plus, it's really strong in the departments I'm interested in. And we can easily afford it."

"I don't care," was Cecile's inane response. "Eat your soup." Trying to be cooperative, even though she had zero appetite, Lauren began her cream of cauliflower.

"Mrs. K.," Matt said. "It's really good for kids to get away and grow up at a college away from home. I mean, it's not like you two spend that much time together. Like, when was the last time you two had dinner or did something together?" Neither of them could remember, but Cecile was intransigent.

Matt tried again. "Mrs. K.," this is a major decision affecting Lauren's entire future. Please take some time to reconsider." He wondered whether Cecile was acting this way in order to provoke him. Perhaps she wanted to be punished.

"She won't! She's horrible! She just wants to punish me!" Lauren screamed, shoveling a spoonful of soup into her mouth. Cecile slapped her daughter, hard. Soup sputtered out of her mouth, white gobs spattering her black blouse. Cecile and Matt stared at the girl, both thinking the same thing. She looked like some guy had just shot a big load of thick jism all over her chin and breasts. Matt looked at Cecile. Her eyes were wild, her face flushed. She licked her lips. Lauren sat, frozen.

"That kind of abuse is not appropriate, Mrs. K. Don't do it again," he warned her.

"If you're going to issue commands in my kitchen, you'd better back them up," she retorted, and raised her hand to gratuitously slap Lauren again. Matt shot up, his chair falling down behind him, and grabbed Cecile's raised wrist.

"Stop!" he ordered, his hard-on returning as he stared down at her heaving breasts. "This behavior is unacceptable." God, she was hot, even when behaving abominably. "Or would you like to be slapped as well?" His question changed the tension in the room. Suddenly mollified, Cecile took a mouthful of soup. Matt remained standing at her side, standing guard, his groin inches from her face. With perfect sneaky timing, Lauren struck back, slapping her mother twice on each cheek. In a moment, Cecile's blouse was also covered with the creamy soup.

Matt knew he had to change the dynamic. "Lauren, it's not acceptable to slap your mother, even after she slapped you. Mrs. K., why don't you punish her?" Lauren was incensed, but Matt said to her, "Wait."

Cecile was confused, but understood a line had been crossed. Haltingly, she said, "What do you mean?"

"I mean spank her, but not here. A formal punishment, in the living room."

"Y-yes, all right." Matt grabbed Lauren's wrist and pulled her up. He could tell she was fuming inside. "Go to the living room and get in position with an eye mask," he told Lauren. Sullen, she was yelling "No!" inside, but she had been too well-trained to speak or refuse one of Matt's commands.

Once Lauren had walked out of the dining room, Cecile finished her scotch and began following her until Matt called, "Stop! You can't walk into your living room dripping all over the carpet and floor. Take off that disgusting blouse." Cecile grasped that a line had not just been crossed, it had been left behind.

There was a long moment of silence, but Matt was not concerned. Shrugging, Cecile silently unbuttoned the blouse and dropped it on the dining room floor. God, she had a beautiful back and shoulders, crossed by a thin black bra strap. He walked over to her side, looking at her chest. Her breathing accelerated as he stood against her side. She wore an expensive but slutty black lace bra, the lace covering hardly anything, the demi-cups exposing the tops of her dark aureole.

With his left hand, Matt picked up the soup bowl, grasped the hair on the back of her head with his right hand and pulled so her head tilted upward. "Eat it," he ordered. She opened her mouth as he tilted the bowl and gobs of soup slid into her mouth. But the rate was way too fast for her and soup streamed down her neck to her breasts. "Clean it," he said. She licked the bowl, laving the sticky soup residue. Watching her big lips, he almost came in his pants.

Once she'd cleaned the bowl, they went into the living room. Lauren stood facing the back of an easy chair, feet spread wide, eyes blocked by the mask. She had no idea what had happened in the dining room. Nor did she know her mother stood there in a slimy bra. "Remove your blouse," Matt said. Like Cecile, Lauren dropped it on the floor next to her and bent over the chair, resting her arms on the chair's arms.

Matt led Cecile over to her daughter. "Pull up her skirt and tuck it in." Lauren stiffened, resenting her mother's presence, humiliated as Cecile raised her daughter's loose skirt above pink stockings, revealing the tawny thighs, and fastened the skirt inside Lauren's waistband. Only then did Cecile notice that her daughter's pink panties were completely sheer and that marks crossed Lauren's ass. Her pussy creaming, Cecile gasped and turned to Matt, but he stared directly back at her, his face a mask. "Pull them down."