The Crazed Janitor Pt. 04

This story is a work of fiction which contains strong elements of great humiliation, racism, non-consent and abuse. Please do not read any further if any of these elements bother you. Such acts should never be done in real life.

This is the fourth (and end) part in a series. Please read the previous parts to understand up to this point.

*****

With an evil smirk, I look down at my toy. Hard to believe that it's my toy. My Toy. Hard to believe it's been only about a couple of hours since I've had my toy. Even harder to believe all that I've done to my toy. Even harder still to know I was the one that did it. Me. The sweet, nice man that keeps the school clean.

She made me. She made me into this. She made me do this to her. If she didn't act like I was the Devil on earth, I wouldn't have done anything. If she wasn't so pathetic and cowardly, none of this wouldn't happen. If she wasn't so stupid...I would have stopped a long time ago. But I'm not stopping.

Looking at my toy, to which I can honestly say I've forgotten her name, I think of all that I've done to her. Made her painted herself white. Sprayed her naked body with cleaners. Brushed those hard to reach places. Placed mousetraps on her titties. Taped her to the wall and much more. Funny how when I say it out loud, you wouldn't think I was talking about a 18 year old human.

"Get up," I say after I cut free the twine from her ankles and then remove the chains off her so she can move. She's been trapped on the table for so long I don't even know if she knows she can move.

I listen to her feminine groans as she begins to move. Goodness, her body must be sore from everything I've done to her. Good thing she has a darker skin tone. It'll hide the bruises better. Plus, her skin tone fits her.

She keeps groaning as she sits up on the table. With another loud stiff groan, she slides off the table and stands. Then, in what make me harder still, she puts both hands back on top of her head. I feel the tingle in my member build as I see this. She still is so scared of me that she does this. Either that, or she has grown to love what I've done to her.

"Hold still," I order with a smirk. I then take the brush she used to paint herself and paint her back with white paint so it matches the front. I don't have to do this as the front was the most humiliating part for her, but I feel that I must. Like she might expect it. So I move the brush all over, covering her back and legs with a sloppy paint job.

Once I stop, I put down the brush and stay behind her without saying anything. I let silence build as she can't see me, so she doesn't know if I'm laughing, glaring or even looking murderous at her. That's when I notice, I don't even know what I am. I was mad, then happy, then amazed. Now? Now I have a hard on, that won't go away. That's all I know.

"We goin' to the mechanic's shop," I finally say, knowing no one will be in it till last period, so I'll have a few hours with her in there. She doesn't respond to this, just keeps standing there, looking pathetic. I know she's probably wondering what more I can do to her. Sadly, she's bout to find out I have a wild imagination.

"You gonna walk down the hallway, just as you are. All the way to the end, till you reach the shop," I inform. "If someone sees you or stops you, you tell them the truth. You tell them, 'I deserved what happened,' and that's all you will say, understand?" I state again making my voice seem dark and menacing.

"I understand," she says softly. I can tell she wants to say more, but doesn't. Maybe wants to beg for me not to do this, or beg me for clothes, but she won't. She knows if she does, it'll only get worse for her.

"Then," I say and then move to the door. "Get going, the colors won't reach the hill till you dance," I say, going back to crazy man mode as I open the door.

-----

My skin feels on fire and what's under my skin burns even hotter. It feels like if you put an ice cube on me, it would melt instantly. Yet, the reason why I feel so hot is because...I'm cold and dirty...and must look so horrible. My entire body is naked and abused. It's been worked over and humiliated, yet...I feel so different, so hot, so wanted. I've never felt like this before.

The crazy man opens the door and I start walking. I'm unable to look at him in the eyes as I walk but I feel them boring into me. He said he might kill me. And I believe that to be true. There's nothing I won't believe he would do now.

As I walk, I feel my skin crawling as it's roughly coated in thick paint. It drips off in some places but has also dried in others. Where its hardened, I can feel it breaking apart as my body moves. More so, I feel my breasts. The mousetraps are still firmly attached, swinging with each and every step I take, making my breasts sway more than normal. Worse still, I feel my womanhood, still coated with paint.

Unlike before, I step outside the room without looking to see if anyone was in the hall. I full heartedly walk out, with everything showing. I make sure to keep my hands planted to my had so if someone does see me, they see me in all of his evil, delightful glory. I know he wants someone to see me like this, like his black pussy trophy. To show what happens to those that cross him.

I walk down the hallway, feeling the cold A/C all over, which makes me shiver at some points which feels so weird as my insides burn so much. It is the worst possible thing to want, but I want him to touch me again. To touch me in any way he wants. Maybe a spank, maybe just a touch on my shoulders. I just need to have another release. To be seen like this, to be paraded around, is so humiliating. It makes me almost moan with wanting to be fucked again.

I turn the corner into the main hall, and my heart does stop as I hear noise. But the feeling of horror and hope disappears as I notice it's way down on the other side of the hallway. Where if someone did see me, it would just look like I had a weird white outfit on. Even the windows of each class seem to be covered or no one faces the window.

It occurs to me, no one might see me like this. No one will see what he's done to me, except him. Knowing this makes me want to scream so people will flood the halls to see my abused breasts, painted pussy or my naked painted white body.

Now I've reached the door of the shop. I stay here, looking at the metal door, feeling dejected and quite sad. I stay here for several moments before I realize I'm alone. I thought he followed behind me, but he didn't. I'm alone. This scares me and again that urge to scream comes to me, but this time because he left and won't touch me.

"You look so stupid and pathetic, you know that?" His voice suddenly says from behind. At once I breathe a sigh of relief and also almost cry in shame. I want this to be over, but I still want more. I want him to take me again, to say he can't get enough. Oh god. What is wrong with me? What in the world is wrong with me?

He moves to the door, having walked a different route than I did, probably in case someone did see me. He unlocks it with his keys and opens the door. I start to move forward but he puts out his hand to stop me.

"What you doing ya cow?" He asks angrily. "Just for that, do 10 jumping jacks," he says and then crosses his arms impatiently. Humiliated more, I hop in the hallway, while parting my legs and letting my arms swing over my head. Doing this does just want he probably wanted, lets my pussy lips part, and my swollen breasts bounce. I do one after another, feeling paint fall with each one. After just 5, I feel like I might have a stroke from the tingle and heat inside me.

"Good, now get inside," he growls once I finish, and I do. Entering, the room is strangely wide open. There's a big engine in the middle of the room suspended by a chain, which must be what the students gather around during class. Along all the walls are different workstations filled with the same tools. The lighting is different in this room as well. It's darker here, though that's probably because only one of the overhead lights are on.

"That...is an American made, full tilt, beautiful engine," the crazy janitor proclaims as he moves up to it. "In the darkness of twilight, I like to gloss the fine tuning and piece together the traps," he says, speaking in that nonsensical yet intelligent manner. My mind struggles to understand what he means, but all I get is that he really likes that engine.

"Bend over it," he orders out of the blue, saying it as if he was saying something causal, like what time it was. I glance at him a bit confused but I don't think twice. I move to the engine, which isn't very large or wide, and bend completely over it. At once I feel the cold of the metal press against my thighs and stomach as I bend all the way over. To do this, my knees have to bend slightly to let my feet remain on the floor.

Just as I do this, I feel the engine behind rattled. For a moment I think it's been turned on, but no, he's pulling on a chain in the corner, raising the engine up off the ground. As he does this, I hang onto the hunk of metal for dear life. He stops once my feet are no longer on the ground, so my legs just hang off the end. Since the engine is so short lengthwise, my breasts hang out on the other side as do my arms.

"See the holes?" He asks and I see him pointing down at the concrete ground. True enough, there are several large drilled holes on the ground that have metal covers. They must be used for something to do with the engine, but what...I don't know. Then he reaches in one, and pulls out a heavy chain. Once he knows I've seen it, he lets go and it retracts back into the hole quickly.

"Steadies the world so it can be worked on," he comments in his crazy manner and then makes the engine spin. As I make a complete circle, I understand what he is saying. The chains must attach to the engine to prevent it from swinging or spinning about. Since they are retractable, they would pull it towards the ground to keep it steady.

I gasp in surprise as I feel him wrap one chain around my right wrist. The coldness of it is what surprises me the most. I'm made to watch as he wraps it twice around my wrist then puts a lock over crossing links. The moment he lets go, my hand moves towards the ground on the hole as the chain tries to retract. It's not painful, I mean, I can lift my arm up, but it'll get tiring if I hold my arm for long. So I let my arm be made taut by the chain, pulling it downward.

Then he wraps my left ankle with another chain from another hole. When he lets go, my leg is pulled in the direction of the hole, making it spread and putting more pressure on my right arm which is also chained to the ground. It doesn't take a genius to figure what he is doing.

Nor does it take him very long. Within a couple of minutes, both of my hands and feet are chained with those icy cold chains. Both legs are spread in different directions, as are my arms. My legs are spread very wide, making it very easy for him to use me again. In my mind I imagine I look like a white painted version of a starfish, held in place by chains.

"Those look lonely," he comments when he moves towards my head. My head, thankfully, isn't tied down or anything. I'm fully able to lift it up and look at him as he kneels in front of me. It almost looks as if he's looking at my face, but he's not. Following his gaze I see who he's talking too. My tits.

They dangle below me, the mousetraps still attached. My nipples are still very hard though it's becoming somewhat painful. I've never had them stay hard for so long. But I guess having a pair of mousetraps on them would do that.

"W-What...are you doing?" I ask, very worried as I see him bringing something below me. It's a large metal wrench that's being held upside down. I don't understand this at all. For a moment I think he means to tighten the wrench on my nipple, but it's upside down, so he can't.

With wide eyes I see what he means to do. I try to move to stop him, but the chains keep me in place. The end of the wrench has a large hole in it, no doubt for hanging it up on a peg. Or...for hanging them from the hooks that are on mousetraps. I do struggle now, but all that happens is my breasts jiggle around comically.

He grabs the hook of the mousetrap, which would normally help set the bar back, and then hangs the wrench on it. My eyes budge as I feel my tit being weighed and stretched down. Looking down, I see it being made almost into a cone as it dangles downward. The wrench probably doesn't weigh but half a pound at most, but when it is hanging from your tit, it feels like a ton.

Helpless I watch as he attaches another one to my other nipple. This, for some reason, hurts even more than the first. My poor breasts. They hurt so much they are almost numb. And just by looking at them, I know they are greatly swollen. I bet if I tried on my bra, my tits would be way too big for it now. I can feel them throbbing as they are pulled at.

Laughing, he pushes me by my shoulders, making my body and engine move just a bit, but making my tits swing in circles and for the wrenches to swing even more. I'm unable to help the shrill sounds that come from my mouth. The shrill sounds of the pain and shameful pleasure of what he's done to me.

-------

A laugh escapes me as I look down at her, bent over the huge engine, shackled to the chains like some weird modern day slave. The way her tits sway in circles makes me laugh even more. But the way she cries out after seeing them? I could pee myself from laughing so hard. How pathetic.

"Like I said, there are still two places I need to deal with," I tell her, trying to keep my excitement under control. With that statement hanging in the air, I walk to the far wall, where they keep their power tools and gadgets. I look over them all, trying to find the one that I'm looking for. Then I do. The motorized buffer.

The motorized buffer is just what it sounds. It's a mobile buffing machine which is designed to be able to buffer a car all by itself. It has a movable arm on it which comes with all sorts of attachments. The main attachment is an arm with a buffering rag that can spin as it moves, not to mention pull back to apply more polish from the supply. This arm, and the motorized wheels can start at the front of the car and buffer all the way until it makes it full circle.

I...don't need all the fancy parts or features of it. So I remove the motorized wheels so it can only stay in one place. Then I remove the polishing rag from the end of the arm. In its place I jam a spare stick shift from the 'parts' bin. The gearshift has a small thick head but looks more like a small video game joystick than anything else to me. With it attached to the arm, it sticks out sideways, almost like it's a large finger pointing to the door.

After doing this, I adjust and play with the settings on the machine. This takes me a good 5 minutes as I try to get it exactly the way I want it. But finally, I think I get the settings the way I want and I turn it on. The machine moves the stick shift forward about 2 inches (as it thinks it's right in front of a car). Then it pulls the stick shift back 2 inches. I watch it do this for several more times until I start laughing again.

I pick up the machine and then put it down behind my toy. I place it on the ground in between her spread legs, and then lift the arm up. The extendable arm goes higher and higher until it's right where I want it to be...aimed at her asshole.

"The first one," I comment, and having to guide not just the arm, but the entire machine, I place the stick shift right so it presses against her asshole. When I do this, I see her body tense up and she tries to look behind her and can't. In my mind, I hear what she might want to say, the pleading, begging, maybe saying this is her most private place, or that no one's touched her there. Doesn't matter, not any longer.

"Is punishment for spilling my coffee," I inform, and then begin to press the head of the stick shift against her, forcing it inside slowly. She starts to groan and beg "Please no," but I keep going. Her body tenses even more as I go but I stop after I've pushed it in about an inch. The way the machine is placed, there's no way she'll be able to force it out herself.

Proud of myself, I step back and look. It looks like she's being ass fucked by an odd colored dick. Laughing a bit more, I turn the machine on. It hums to life and the arm moves forward the two inches inside her and then back out. It moves in and out. It's fucking her ass. My idea worked better than I could have believed.

"You feel that? You deserve it," I tell her as I watch her ass get ravaged. She doesn't scream or cry, she just groans with each thrust of the machine. Since the machine is constant, her groan become constant to with the same beat. "Ah, oh, ah, oh," over and over again.

"Now , what do we say?" I ask her, coming around to look at her white covered face. "I...deserve this," she answers, her eyes closing. "Deserve what?" I ask, pretending not to understand. "I deserve to be fucked in the ass for spilling your coffee," she says rather quickly and with some anger. "Good girl," I reply with a smile.

"Next is your other hole..." I say moving next to her face.

---

My ass feels like it's been ripped apart as whatever is behind me keeping jamming itself into me. I've never, ever even thought of anything related to that place, but since it is happening...it feels...feels...horrible and wonderful, god awful and beautiful. Tears come out as I feel this as I'm so ashamed yet so terribly enraptured as I feel myself cumming again.

"The other hole...that is your mouth," he reveals, slapping me in the face a few times and laughing. "You have no idea how stupid you look. How pathetic. I mean, you are getting fucked by a damn machine," he says and laughs at me, making my already warm body feel like it's going to explode.

"But...all great things must end. Even this," he says, motioning at my used, abused body. "You are going to pleasure me with your mouth. When you make me extremely happy, I will let you go. If you don't, you stay here, just like this to be found, understand?" he asks, looking down at me with almost a father sort of look.

"I...I understand...and deserve this," I repeat, as I move my hips in time with the thing fucking me to make it easier. He moves his crotch right in front of me, where it is perfect level with my face. For a moment he almost looks nervous as he unbuttons his pants. After all, I've never seen his member...only felt it. But then he pulls it out, and I'm in awe.

It's not the 12 inches I thought it must have been. Nor is it as smooth as glass. It's a dick. A normal looking dick. And humiliated, I open my mouth eager to have it in me again. I move my head as much as I can and take him inside my mouth. My lips tenderly wrap around his member while my tongue touches the tip.

Slowly, I pull my head back, sliding him out of me as my lips press firmly against him. Then I move my head forward, making my tongue lick back and forth on the tip and down his shaft. I repeat this, sucking gently and moving my head up and down. I'm blowing him. Giving him a blow job. Sucking him off. Me. I'm doing it. Miss perfect.

I thought he would taste horrible, but he doesn't. He tastes oddly salty and sweet. It's the taste that makes me move a bit faster. That's when I hear him moan. This sends sparks over me and I go even faster. He likes this. He likes the way I'm doing it, though I've never done it before! I pause at the tip of his shaft, allowing my tongue to flick over all of it, which makes him moan again.

The machine keeps fucking me, my hips keep rocking, and my breasts keep swinging under me as I keep bobbing up and down his cock. I'm going very fast now, so much that it hurts my neck. There's a strange squishing sound as I move up and down on him and I swear he's thrusting his hips some into my mouth. He keeps moaning, and each one makes me move faster and faster. It's now I feel the tingling build between my legs again.