Classmates Revenge by Lance Edwards
Femdom Erotica. A notorious lothario, Ed Marsh, has more than just a remarkable member. He has an entire school he tends like a private garden, choosing which blooms to groom for eventual plucking. Yet after a decade of such unethical behavior ” of heartlessly bedding an endless succession of former student infatuates ” his tactics have finally backfired.
Three of his former pupils (now college graduates with a fetish for domination) decide to teach their old professor a lesson. Seduced and coerced into a summer of slavery, Ed must not only suffer the vengeance of women for his many sins. He must also manage the competing demands of his various lovers’ allure ” all while being drawn into a deadly conflict with the obsessed stalker of the mistress destined to redeem him.
This story celebrates the kink lifestyle with a lot of bondage, torture, anal play, orgasm control and even sexual asphyxia. While mostly devoted to women dominating men (and other women), men are allowed to dominate women in limited instances.
Oh Goddess, this was it! It was finally happening to him!
Beyond the ecstasy of hope and joy Ed felt at the suggestion of imminent forgiveness, and the exaltation of another extreme submission session after weeks without an addiction fix, he was suspended on tenterhooks for the excruciating culmination too interminably delayed.
Tara had teased him with this previously.
Accoutered as a nurse, then as now she’d been embedded to the thumb in his insatiable bum. Four full fingers lodged half-again past their last knuckles corkscrewed and prodded at him. Recouping his earlier eagerness for the challenge at hand, Ed arched up and groaned aloud as that slut-madness descended again yet tenfold.
Before had been just a threat and a harbinger.
Ed remembered facing his flaming reflection in the baptismal basin. He’d been begging for that enormous insertion to worsen. Yet rather than the full-on fisting he so insanely craved he’d been given agonizingly distending enemas instead. Those were followed by a police baton – and endless hours of relentless dunking and double-fucking.
That had been an initiation for the ages, no question. Yet throughout it all, and all the other incredibly testing torture-orgies galore he’d been the center of since, Ed had still regretted being denied that ultimate bitch-on-the-bottom brutalizing. He wondered if his anal fixation could encompass it. He’d especially wanted his big-boned owner to bludgeon him, even before he owed her such an enormous debt of repentance. They’d all been pumping iron all summer, especially lately, How big around was that brawny arm by now?
The awareness that such a challenge was actually upon him (Tara first of course) had Ed practically frantic with toe-curling squirming. All through the insertion of one slippery finger added to another, through their methodically lubing and probing dilation leading up to this penultimate palm’s-width rotation, Ed had writhed in his restraints with sweaty-sweet agony. Even reveling in this preparatory reaming he’d nearly screamed with the overweening, tear-streaming need to take that whole big bum-punching fist in. Now he was finally going to get it!
It was still hard to credit. Hell, at first he’d thought he was dreaming.
The ever-inventive bondage aficionado to whom he’d completely ceded his soul had again left him elaborately lashed up in the back shower stall. Yet since any uncontainable whimpering might have drawn attention should Patrisha come nosing around, Ed had been contorted up quite a bit less stressfully than usual. As a result he’d fallen asleep. The voice of his wife so surprised and delighted, daunted and taunted him that it just had to have been subconsciously conjured.
“It’s time for you to earn my forgiveness, slave. Are you ready to suffer a disloyal slut’s only appropriate punishment?”
Then out of the ether Tara had snarled. And not even a dream could be so hideously enticing.
“Get ready for the sodomy of the century, bitch-boy. Your mistress is unleashing me on you at last. We’re here to start hammering you for real!”
Blinking suddenly awake to see his trio of goddesses looming so celestially above him had been absolutely rapturous.
Beaming down at him, Mistress Mesoamerica was a spectacular vision of feminine perfection forever beyond his merit. Drill Sergeant Tara sneered as fearsomely as a war deity. Towering like a colossus though, all gigantic tits and prodigious prick, it was his hugely voluptuous Earth-mother, Venus-embodiment Goddess Julie that most compelled subject Ed to grovel with lustful worship. Too thrilled and intimated to risk offense he’d dropped his gaze and instantly obeyed every instruction made.
“Hold still while I untie you.” But of course.
“Get on the toilet and take a dump. Drop every bit of ballast that you can.” Done.
“Use the bidet and get good and clean, both inside and out.” Gladly, my gorgeous goddess.
“Now get out here in the gym with us. We’re using the equipment for positioning.”
Indeed. Next Ed found himself bound out on his widely-spaced knees.
He was bent over an iron barbell, his bound arms stretched behind him above his head. With his face lifted by bowed shoulders, fresh lipstick labeled his sins and thickly lacquered up his suck-hole. Meanwhile the ring-gag kept this locked into a ruby-round, spit-dripping come funnel.
Tinkling bells dangled from his horizontal torso; the rings piercing his nipples pulled these painfully attenuated toward the floor. The attached weights swung and tugged. All the interior lights were on, turning the window-wall into one big mirror – just the way they liked it.
Facing his outrageous image, Ed had felt his caged snake straining insanely at the degrading spectacle he made. When giant Goddess Julie stepped up stroking that divine avenger, deigning to declare her latest decree, he’d hardly dared to believe.
“Now slut, as I said, we’ve agreed upon your punishment. For betraying our sacred commitment you must finally suffer your very first fisting. Expert Tara will break you in for us. If you seem sufficiently penitent at the brutal finish, after I’ve exhausted my own gouging and pounding, I will forgive you for your infidelity. We will all return to the loving wonders of yore.
“So brace yourself, bitch! Sergeant Tara’s been waiting forever for this!”
She wasn’t the only one!
And so after weeks of dread-filled yearning (and a few swift minutes of binding and positioning), after a too-tantalizing titillation of slowly coaxing an opening and liberal slickening of said, pig-slut-dog Ed squealed out his newly annealed fealty shrilly pealing as he finally received his pitiless first fisting.
Tara’s thumb had folded into its palm, turning a jutting hook into a protruding knob. Her surprising strength, developed not only here in this very gym but over years of hauling on the handlebars of her hog, shoved him hard against the barbell as her entire hand suddenly rammed into his ass right up to the wrist.
Raucous jeers raised the roof!
Everybody seemed friends again. Even in his ecstasy of excruciated stretching, Ed noticed his owner already thawing.
Carrie was kissing her congratulations; Julie was accepting this open-mouthed and groping her in return. Then evilly laughing Tara was slowly twisting and driving in even harder, and Ed had no consideration for anything left but the unprecedented enormity of his rectal agony.
How was his sphincter not snapping like a rubber band? For that matter, how was his body not splitting apart like a log in an industrial wood-chopper? How was it remotely possible that human flesh could accommodate such a monstrous intrusion? It was like being gored by a triceratops horn, impaled on a crusader’s stake – or punishment-fucked by some supremely vengeful hermaphroditic deity. And still this ordeal was in its infancy!
Sobbing in his shocked extremity Ed felt seized by terror as well as appalled slut-lust. His whole body was shuddering uncontrollably; he couldn’t begin to take any more of that arm! Of course Sergeant Tara proved the lie in that. Her pushing and twisting penetrated even further, then turned to nudging and actual thrusting.
Weights swinging, bells jingling, his sobs falling into cadence with the force slamming his body forward, Ed grimly fought not to howl madly for mercy.
Of course beyond forfeiting his forgiveness there was no safe word here. And no one could understand him anyway. His mouth was wedged into an aching gape; the long runner of spit depending from his lower lip swung like a pendulum with his body’s oscillation. Tears smeared the reflection of his monstrous ignominy and the admittedly guilty slut could only do as his owner had ordered. He braced himself to endure the most unspeakable assault ever, praying for it to become easier to take, to grow masochistically gratifying rather than just surpassingly traumatic. In fact it was obligate upon him to eventually find it so.
At least his sadistic mistresses were loving it. Perhaps he could catch their contagion.
Tara was crowing with triumph as she built up a proper rhythm, still driving further inside with each twisting thrust. Carrie slapped his ass with wicked congratulations; she and Julie continued to celebrate with catcalls and kisses. They reminded Ed that though he was nearly shrieking with the ever-increasing distress, he wasn’t even technically being fisted yet!
Sergeant Tara still held her fingers straight and rigid, pointing them to a taper. Once she’d loosened him up the barest modicum, she began to fold these individually in, starting with the littlest. Eventually all five were clenched tight.
Now that he was finally really getting what he’d so insanely, stupidly craved, squealing slut-pig Ed couldn’t believe it once again. What in the world had been wrong with him? Too late for regrets now, bitch! To more roars of female approval Sergeant Tara spread those butchy lats and the endless brutal butt-bludgeoning truly began.