Fettisia's Torment





     The Child-Woman named Fettisia stands trembling with

fear.  Her full crimson lips quiver.  Goosebumps prickle

the surface of her flesh.

     As punishment for her transgressions she has been kept

after class at her district's Government School for Sexual

Preparation.  She is thirteen years of age.

     A golden chain, fine but strong, has been wrapped

around her neck and then hooked to the punishment hook

above the blackboard.  She cannot move forward or from side

to side without feeling the strangling pressure of the

golden chain against her windpipe.  Fortunately for her,

she is wearing special shiny leather boots with seven-inch-

high heels.  Were it not for the heels, which give the

small Child-Woman those feel extra inches of height, she

would slowly choke to death.

     All the same, Fettisia the Child-Woman is not happy.

The seven-inch heels are extremely uncomfortable.  To

complicate matters still more, the shiny leather boots have

been laced to an almost unendurable tightness with the

schools's boot-lacing machine, a cruel and torturous

instrument said to have been inherited by one of the

ancestors of the school's founder who was thought to have

participated in the Pro-Christian Inquisition of 2089 as

well as the great Burning of the Virgins that had followed

soon-after.

     The Child-Woman's straight blonde hair spills like a

fluffy cloud over her bare sun-bronzed shoulders.

     Her slim strong thighs shudder.

     Her green eyes are damp with tears.

     Her face is contorted with pain.  So agonized is she

that she is unable to enjoy the soft caress against her

plump child-breasts of the black satin lining of her

rawhide brassiere.  She does not even feel the rubbery

squeeze of her torturously tight flesh-colored latex

panties.  She feels only the discomfort of her cruelly

laced leather boots with the seven-inch heels.  That, and

the cold grip of the golden chain around her neck and the

fearful anticipation of her teacher's excruciatingly

punishing black bullwhip.

     By twisting her head, Fettisia is able to see the

words "Fuck me, suck me" written in tremblingly childish

letters on the schoolroom's blackboard.  They have been

written there one hundred times by Fellatia, one of

Fettisia's young classmates.  Fellatia has been punished

for a far less serious transgression than Fettisia.  It is

now many hours since Fellatia had expiated her guilt by

writing "Fuck me, suck me" on the blackboard one hundred

times.  She had gone back to her cell, accompanied by one

of the school black uniformed guards.

     Fettisia sobs silently.  The bell in the tower of the

school had just struck midnight.  A cold draft races

through the empty classroom, raising still more goosebumps

on Fettisia's bare flat bronzed midriff.  The salty tears

gush more heavily now from her green eyes, down her

straight nose, across her full quivering crimson lips, into

her wet pink mouth.  After all, she has been trussed in

this manner since three o'clock in the afternoon.  She does

not know how much longer she will be able to bear this

agony.  Only the thought that if she faints the golden

chain will strangle her keeps her from keeling over.

     Quite suddenly, from the stone corridor outside the

classroom, Fettisia hears the sound she has been

anticipating for the past nine hours--the metallic clang of

her teacher's heavy sterling silver evening slippers

against the cobblestoned corridor floor.  All at once there

is a rush of air.  The brass-studded leather classroom door

swings wide.  Teacher has arrived.  She clangs into the

room, resplendent in her silver lame' skintight evening

dress, her hair done up in a severe bun fastened with a

manacle, her eyebrows garishly painted on in huge, thick,

sweeping, greasy arches, her lips painted with shiny black

lipstick, her stainless-steel incisors honed as sharp as

carving knives.

     Little Fettisia's heart leaps with hope, her Teacher

is not carrying her despised black Spanish leather

bullwhip.

     The Teacher crosses the room boldly, clanging toward

the blackboard, an evil wordless hiss emanating from her

lips.  Her cold eyes examine Fellatia's scrawl on the

blackboard.  She glares with satisfaction and then fixes

her icy eyes upon the trembling trussed-up Fettisia.

     "So, my wicked little wastrel," the Teacher purrs

malevolently, "how have you enjoyed your punishment do

far?"

     "Oh!  V... very... very well indeed, thank you,

Madame!" gasps Fettisia fully aware of the even more

ghastly punishment awaiting any student who fails to

appreciate fully enough any act committed upon of against

her person by the vicious schoolmistress.

     "You lie!" growls the Teacher, using her silver-

lacquered right hand to slap Fettisia's trembling cheek

with a resounding crack, eliciting a small shriek of

surprise and pain from the bound thirteen-year-old.  "Lying

little bitch!  You have note enjoyed one second of this!"

     Fettisia's mind races beneath a mist of pain.  She

must think of an answer which will not contradict anything

her Teacher has said, but that at the same time will

express appreciation for the agonies she had been

suffering.  She thinks quickly.  Then speaks.

     "Y... yes, indeed, Madame!  The hours I have spent

here, humiliatingly chained and trussed, have been the

utmost torture for me.  But I have learned to enjoy such

torture, indeed to relish it, in your class in Advanced

Sadomasochism.  And therefore I have very much enjoyed this

agonizing punishment, Madame!"

     The Teacher laughs, the light glinting off her sharp

stainless-steel incisors.  "Marginally well spoken, little

slut!  You have a quick wit about you.  It will stand you

in good stead when you are sent for further training in the

steaming brothels of Imperial Casbah."

     And then the Teacher's smile melts into a frown.  "But

quick wit is not enough," she says.  "As you are well

aware, you are being punished for habitually slow arousal

in your Anal Intercourse class.  True, you gasped and

moaned loudly along with all the other Child-Women when the

stud-slave assigned to you thrust his huge burning organ

into your tender pink rump.  But you were faking it!

Faking it, I say!  I will not have my little sluts faking

pleasure!  Never!  Never!"

     "I shall try to do better in the future," sobs

Fettisia, her tears now gushing down her slim graceful neck

and into the satin-lined cups of her rawhide brassiere.

     "I shall try to do better in the future," mimics the

Teacher with a mocking sneer.

     She spits in Fettisia's face.

     "Little bitch!" the Teacher hisses derisively, "I am

not interested in your attempts!  I am interested in your

success!  Who was it three years ago that taught you how to

bring the highest pleasure imaginable from the use of your

tiny pre-pubescent clitoris?  Who taught you to use that

stupid little mouth of yours to wring screams of delight

from male and female alike before you had reached the age

of twelve?"

     "Y... you, Madame!" screamed Fettisia, sobbing in fear

and shame.

     "Yes!" screamed the Teacher in return.  "I run the

most successful schools for sexual enlightenment in the

history of the world!  And I will not have some pitiful

frigid little slut ruining my perfect record!  Do you

understand me?  Do you?  Do you?"

     "Yes, Madame," sobs Fettisia, submissively.

     "Very well, then," says the Teacher, softening an

inscrutable trifle, "I shall unchain you and put you to the

test."

     So saying, the schoolmistress unhooks the golden chain

from the punishment hook above the blackboard and unwraps

it from around Fettisia's graceful neck.  Fettisia is

extremely careful not to breathe a sigh of relief.  Such a

sigh might only arouse her Teacher to horrible paroxysms of

anger.  All the same, as if merely for sport, the Teacher

abruptly whips the thin length of chain in a quick high

arc, striking it powerfully the Fettisia's bade midriff.

Fettisia squeaks in agony, as she had been taught to do, as

a bright red stripe fades into view crossing the small eye

of her indented navel.

     "Go you your desk and get your dildo,"  he Teacher now

commands.

     Obediently, Fettisia slips down the second aisle of

desks i the classroom until she arrives at her own desk,

third from the rear.  She lifts the lid and rummages

through the desk's contents.  At last she finds the dildo,

nestling snugly between a textbook on group orgies, a

monograph on lesbianism which she has been using as a

reference source for a forthcoming term paper, and a jar of

spiced oriental masturbation cream.  She takes up the

dildo, closes the lid of the desk and then returns to the

front of the classroom, hobbling uncomfortably in her

extremely high-heeled boots.

     At last back in from of her Teacher, the thirteen-

year-old Child-Woman stands rigidly at attention, scarcely

daring to breathe, awaiting her Teacher's next command.

     "Very well!  On your knees, slut!  Position number

three!" orders the harsh instructress.

     Immediately as she has been taught, Fettisia falls to

her knees, bruising them painfully against the hard cold

floor.  Then she bends forward slowly, in a graceful arc,

until her forehead is touching the floor ad her delectable

rubber-incased rump is pointing upward, toward the ceiling.

     "Now insert the dildo into your anus," orders the

schoolmistress, harshly.  "All the way in, as deeply as it

can go.  And be quick about it!"

     Instantly fettisia obeys.  The point of the fat dildo

thrusts against the rubber panties.  Fettisia's insides are

penetrated by the now rubber-encased dildo.  She can feel

the rubber stretching in the interior of her posterior

orifice, pushed by the unrelenting hardness of the firm

vinyl dildo, an exact replica of her stud-slave's painfully

huge and powerful organ.

     Fettisia's insides burn with the agonizing thrust of

the hard smooth latex-encased object.  She bites down hard

on her crimson lower lip, closes her eyes, attempts to

translate the searing pain into sexual pleasure.

     "Withdraw!" commands the watching schoolmistress.

     Fettisia pulls on the dildo, feeling the rubbery

contraction of her latex panties outward from her orifice

as she down so.

     "Insert!"

     Again she plunges the huge horrid thing deep inside

herself.

     "Withdraw!"

     "Insert!"

     "Withdraw!"

     "Insert!"

     More and more rapidly come the commands.  Faster and

faster plunges the object of sexual education.  Slowly,

passion fastens its grip upon Fettisia's overstimulated

nervous system.  The burning cavity begins to flutter with

true sexual excitement.  The fluttering races through her

body, spreading to her vagina, causing her to pulse and

twitch every which way.  Perspiration now pours down her

forehead.  She gasps and wheezes, heaves and sobs, moans

and gurgles as the vicious schoolmistress continues to bark

out her cruel commands to insert and withdraw.

     Fettisia's cheeks are flushed.  Her knees are grinding

against the hard cold floor.  Her body writhes as she

plunges in and pulls out.  The Teacher smiles, watching,

waiting, smugly enjoying every gasp and wheeze of the pain-

racked passion-tortured student.

     Finally laughing cruelly, the Teacher steps forward,

bends, inserts a slim sliver-lacquered middle finger

between Fettisia's straining young legs, thrusts, pushing

in the rubber, stroking the hard little button of the

clitoris through the thin, stretching latex of Fettisia's

skintight panties.

     The pupil gasps loudly, then shrieks, levitating into

the air on a powerful jet of passion, her insides throbbing

and contracting painfully, wonderfully, incredibly in the

ecstasy of orgasm.  She screams with both pain and delight

and then falls flat upon her face.

     "Much better," says the Teacher softly, smiling down

at the quivering, sobbing, hysterical mass of Child-Woman

flesh.  "Not perfect, but much, much better.  Take you

dildo back to your cell and practice for tomorrow's

lesson."

     The girl staggers from the room, dazed, tearful yet

already eager again for the press of vinyl against anus she

will feel the moment her cell door clangs shut behind her.





                -- END --