The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Rachel carelessly twirled her cheap blue biro between two fingers while her gaze fell absently on the dreary white clock ticking slowly above the blackboard. Several times the pen tumbled from her hand but was repositioned instinctively, her eyes barely blinking as the timepiece struck three in the afternoon.

Sat lazily at the desk next to Rachel, Lauren tugged at strands of loose blonde hair that seemed to be falling out of its correct placement in the delicate sculpture atop her equally delicate head. Suddenly agitated, she pulled the biro from Rachel’s hand and slapped it on the vaguely-sloping wooden desk in front of her.

Behind them, towards the back of the class, someone coughed.

As the only student in the crowded class still writing in her exercise book, Stephanie seemed to be a focus of attention to all those around her. Looking back up to the board, she squinted to make out the next line of chalked letters before hastily proceeding to copy it down. As she did so, her long brown hair fell into her face and she brushed it aside with her left hand.

Stephanie had accidentally left her glasses at home this morning; she could see well enough without them but reading from a distance, such as from the blackboard, was the very reason she had been forced to start wearing them in the first place. But then, she had hardly expected to need them on the very last day of school.

A shadow fell over the wall near the closed door at the front of the classroom, then a figure rushed passed the window mounted in the door itself. A second later, and more students walked on by the door, eagerly making their way down the corridor towards freedom; towards the main school doors; but ultimately towards home.

Nearly every student, sat at their desks in the almost silent room, glanced at their teacher with desperate eyes; eager to be setting off for home themselves. The teacher, Mrs. Birches, was sat reading quietly by her own larger desk at the head of the class. She seemed to be unaware that her class existed at all.

Stephanie finished copying the notes from the board and carefully placed her stationary and the exercise book itself into her tiny backpack. Mrs. Birches, as if this was the signal she had been waiting for, lifted her head suddenly and looked across the classroom.

‘Okay class, you can go now.’

Chairs squeaked as thirty-two students all leapt up at the exact same moment. Bags were shouldered and talk broke out throughout the room as the excitement of leaving school behind them suddenly reached an all time high.

‘Take care now! And don’t forget to return any outstanding library books!’ The teacher continued, struggling to speak above the commotion of the classroom.

Stephanie was one of the last out of the room, but since the narrow corridor was already jammed full of uniformed students eager to escape their current location she didn’t make any attempt to hurry herself.

Making her way past her fellow schoolmates, some laughing, others with tears in their eyes, she slowly made for the school doors at the far end of the corridor.

A good few minutes later, she emerged into the late afternoon and her eyes quickly adjusted to the natural light outside. Pulling her grey sweater over her head, she moved past a large group of students hanging around on the steps outside then sighted her own friends waiting for her at the bottom.

‘Hey Steph! Hurry up will ya!’

Louise took Stephanie’s hand as she reached the final step and dashed with her over to the rest of the group. There were hugs of laughter and excitement between the four girls, then Kerry and Georgina turned and spat their tongues out hilariously at their old school building.

Almost bending over in amusement, Stephanie tied her school sweatshirt around her waist and left the sleeves dangling down the front of her dark grey plaid skirt, which in itself reached down almost to her knees.

Finalising their departure, the four girls locked arms and walked together down the footpath towards home, laughing about anything and everything.

Waving goodbye to her friends, Stephanie half-skipped playfully down the park alley that led first to the rundown park itself and then by another alley, to the street in which she lived.

As she giggled to herself and looked forward to the big after-school party that would take place down by the lake later that night; a dark figure watched her from behind a pair of huge oak tree’s hanging lazily on the grassed area of the park.

Although he didn’t want to admit it, he was watching her intently. The way her whole body moved was just so enticing, so young and desirable. His eyes trickled along her dark brown hair, across her clean white blouse and down past the skirt to her shapely legs. She reached the middle of the tarmac area near the park apparatus itself and suddenly bent down to tie a loose shoelace. The figure looked eagerly over and strained to see down the top of her blouse as she struggled with a knotted lace.

There was a loud bark from behind him and he turned quickly, startled as if he had been caught.

‘Be quiet Jasper! I’m only taking a piss!’

He turned back, fastening his trousers as he did so, and looked out across the park. Stephanie was nowhere to be seen.

Momentarily puzzled, he stepped out from behind the old thick trunk and took in a full view of the park. Shrugging to himself, old Bernard called for his dog and went on his way.

Three years later

Slamming shut the door of his silver unmarked police vehicle; Detective Peter Hammond quickly surveyed the street around him. It was a typical neighbourhood; detached houses on both sides of the street with a fairly quiet and well-maintained road running between the footpaths. Hammond couldn’t recall there ever being a disturbance in this part of town, let alone anything like what he was about to deal with.

Climbing over the police barrier and making for the nearby house surrounded by a dozen police vehicles, he was almost instantly met by his work partner of two years, detective Jacqueline Green.

‘It’s down here in the basement,’ she said, pointing to a small door in the side of the staircase, ‘I made sure it was all left as we found it, but forensics are already going over the place.’

‘That’s okay. Have we got anything on the guy who called us up?’ he asked, ducking down to avoid banging his head as he carefully entered the small cupboard-like space.

‘The anonymous call? No, but you can bet it was the same guy who did all this.’

They had to stoop low as they descended the small steps which led to the buildings old basement. Reaching the bottom, they passed several forensic experts who were busy carrying equipment up and down the tiny staircase.

Turning to his left at Jackie’s prompting; he could see bright light coming from around the corner. Pressing to the side of the corridor as another forensic member moved past, they eventually turned towards the light source.

Hammond didn’t quite know what to make of it at first, but as his eyes readjusted to the bright artificial lighting, he quickly become aware of what he was seeing.

‘A classroom?’

Jackie nodded her head sullenly, ‘I guess you could call it that.’

All around them on the walls were large printouts of sums, poetry, charts, displays, even the table of the elements. At the front of the ‘class’ was a large blackboard, covered in rather complicated looking math. The ceiling was supporting several light beams, and the floor was covered in a light blue carpet.

Jackie motioned to the single desk in the middle of the room, ‘That was where we found her, chained up to the seat, with one hand free to... well... to do her work.’

Hammond walked over to the desk setup, a strange looking wooden seat fixed to the floor and a flat table that seemed to be attached both to the floor and the chair itself.

Jackie continued as he took in some other aspects of the chair, ‘we assume from the victim’s rear-end injuries that he would pivot the chair forward, like this.’

Taking the strong wooden chair carefully in gloved hands, Jackie pushed it towards the table. The front legs were hinged to the floor, seemingly for this very purpose. It was quite clear that when the sadistically-designed chair was pushed forward, the victim tied to it could be easily spanked.

‘So, we’ve got us a wacko who likes to play the strict teacher... how is the girl?’ Hammond enquired, eyeing the dildo apparatus pointing upwards in the centre of the seat.

‘Well, it’s going to take us a while to figure out what he did to her mind, but physically she’s taken every type of torture I can come up with. The skin on her rear is so badly bruised, its scarred purple.’

Hammond snorted to himself, disgusted.

‘She had impressions on every joint of her body, wrists, elbows, ankles, the lot. She wouldn’t have been able to move at all, except of course, for her left arm.’

Picking up one of the neatly piled exercise books at the side of the room, Hammond flipped through the pages. He was greeted by row after row of arithmetic. Everything was dated, and set out precisely and neatly. He put the book down and found the one with the earliest date. The writing was terrible.

‘And I think it’s safe to say that she’s right-handed.’

Jackie took the exercise book as he offered it to her, but a questioning glance was directed to her partner.

‘He made her write with her left hand, probably gave him plenty of opportunity to punish her for her sloppiness,’ Hammond looked around casually, ‘what a sicko.’

‘So what’s her name?’ he asked.

‘We haven’t been able to get anything from her, but in one of the books she seems to have been doodling on the inner back page.’

‘And?’ Hammond enquired over his shoulder.

‘Assuming it’s her name, we think she’s called Stephanie’

Hammond sat down carefully, and peered through the glass in front of him. In the next room, behind the one-way mirror, another detective was interviewing the girl that had been found at the house. Besides him Jackie was busy taking notes.

The girl had long brown hair, remarkably well kept, and a nice, attractive face. She seemed to be petite, and to any mans eye’s had a very good figure. But she was still wearing a school uniform, and a very revealing one at that.

‘Why hasn’t someone offered her more appropriate clothing?’ he asked, somewhat angry.

Jackie briefly looked up, ‘she refused to change. She went crazy whenever it was suggested that she change into something else.’

‘No doubt our sicko is behind that.’ she added as an afterthought.

The female detective in the interview room asked Stephanie if she remembered anything about the man who had held her at that house. Stephanie giggled and started to recount her twelve times tables.

The interviewer looked towards the mirror-wall and shook her head. She stood up and left the room.

‘We’ve been trying for hours; nothing seems to get through to her.’ Jackie contributed, ‘But one thing we have discovered is that she’s a genius.’

‘How so?’ Hammond quizzed.

‘Well, we gave her an IQ test. She accepted it like it was a ticket to Disneyland. She performed incredibly. And another thing, we’ve checked every school within fifty miles of the house, her uniform isn’t standard at any of them.

Hammond strained his eyes at her school wear, a short sleeved and tight fitting white blouse with black mini-skirt and a small bright red tie. Her legs were covered with a pair of black stockings which halted just below the skirt and matching high-heeled boots up to the top of her ankles.

‘I could have gathered that.’ He stated.

Jackie gave him a shrug, and produced a piece of paper, ‘the shirt has this woven into the fabric above the left breast.’

Hammond almost laughed.

‘Manacle’s Further Education.’ He read out loud then added, ‘What a wacko.’

‘I think I’ve got something.’ Jackie informed Hammond as he sat down next to her in the office. It had been a week since the anonymous phone call which had tipped them off about the house, and progress had been incredibly slow since then. Things hadn’t been helped by the victim’s apparent inability to assist them.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘Well, I’ve been looking through old cases, both here and at other departments. Take a look at this.’ She handed him a brown folder and he pulled off the paperclip holding it together. Flicking past the standard police reports, he found the photographs situated at the back.

‘Jesus.’ Hammond stammered.

‘Same thing, two years back. Girl found tied to a chair, at a desk, in a classroom underground.’ Jackie looked pleased at her findings, and Hammond smiled back.

‘So, we’ve got us a serial case. Any patterns?’

Jackie smiled again, ‘Both girls were taken on their last day of school.’

‘So... all we need to do is find out what school is his next target and be ready. Not an easy task considering the amount of schools in this area alone.’

Jackie nodded thoughtfully, ‘But there’s more. Both schools finished their term earlier than is usual. Only four schools in this part of the country do that, something to do with teacher training.’

‘From our wacko’s point of view, he might well pick girls from those schools because he feels that they need more ‘teaching’ than others...’

Jackie continued the lead, ‘and if we assume that he picks a different school each time then we can pretty much narrow it down to only two.’

‘Well that’s definitely a good lead, keep on it. But there’s three months until the end of school term, let’s see what else we can find before then.’

Climbing from his seat, Hammond began to make for another office when Jackie stopped him.

‘And how’s the baby coming along, Peter?’

He turned and smiled, ‘Faye’s six months pregnant. We asked not to be shown whether it was a boy or girl though. So there’s no real news!’ he answered, walking away from his grinning partner.

‘What’s this?’ Hammond asked, three weeks later in the very same office.

Jackie looked up from the screen and then back again, ‘the previous girl, Natasha, she’s still in rehab, but her condition is greatly improved. I sent someone over there to interview her.’

‘And how did it go?’ Hammond sat down beside her and half-listened to what was being said on the small screen in front of them.

‘Well... apparently they only managed to get her out of the uniform a few months back and aside from the fact that she too has become far more intelligent, she was generally quite social.’

Jackie cleared her throat and continued, ‘seems our guy does it because he believes that there’s too much temptation in the world.’

Hammond shot her a questioning glance.

‘From what I can tell, he puts them through intense pleasure by many different means—you saw the vibrator equipment on the seat—and they have to find the strength to pretend it’s not there; and just get on with the work he gives them.’

‘Sounds like some sort of kinky game.’ Hammond interrupted.

‘But this isn’t between two people who love each other; if she indulges in the pleasure he gives her, she’s brutally beaten. Natasha had scars all over her body—especially on her rear.’

‘And there’s more,’ Jackie continued, ‘I now know that both girls were short-sighted, they couldn’t see well farther than five metres. But here’s the problem, when Stephanie was kidnapped, I found from her mother that she hadn’t been wearing her glasses that day. Natasha on the other hand, had been.’

Hammond caught on quickly, ‘So, either there isn’t a link, or... these weren’t random pickings—he knew a lot about these girls.’

Jackie nodded knowingly.

‘The blackboard in both rooms was almost exactly eight metres from the desk. So in both cases, the girls would have had difficulty reading what he was writing. He no doubt knew that.’

Hammond felt his fists clench, ‘Sadistic son of a bitch. Makes them write with the wrong hand, and that’s when they can actually see what they have to write. No wonder they received so much punishment.’

Two weeks later, a school bell rang for the last time that term. Suddenly the playground of Gavin Willingham’s School for the Disabled was filled with laughter as dozens of wheelchair-bound, limping, deaf or blind youngsters made their way out of the school grounds, many of them for the very last time.

Hannah was amongst them, using both arms to push her wheelchair along and down the ramp. Her long blonde hair was fastened in a ponytail to stop it blowing in the wind and her small oval glasses made her look the part of the adorable teenager that she was.

Wearing long black trousers and a light blue blouse, Hannah waved back as her friends departed in other directions or boarded special mini-buses.

She was glad that she didn’t require the professional help that some of the others did, and felt sorry for thinking that way, but at least she could still live a relatively normal life. She was attractive, knew how to dress, and managed to keep in good shape despite her being bound to a wheelchair—perhaps forever.

Wheeling down the empty path, she looked forward to telling her mother all about the last day, and the treats the teachers had set up for them. She couldn’t have been more surprised when gloved hands reached behind her and pulled her from the wheelchair, tossing it on the footpath like a spent beer can.

Hannah opened her eyes and was immediately thrown into a nightmare. As her vision stirred, she realised that her glasses were gone and her hair was dangling in her face. Shaking her head sharply, she achieved nothing more than throwing a few strands out of her sight.

But that was enough. She could vaguely make out a blackboard in front of her and other things on the walls around it. She tried to move her arms but they were securely fastened to the chair in which she sat. Tight metal shackles were around her wrists and arms. A larger one appeared to be around her neck.

As the horror of this bizarre kidnapping and restraint kicked in, she acknowledged that her clothes had been removed. She was wearing what seemed to be a school uniform, something she had never had to wear before. Its white blouse fitted her figure perfectly, the top three buttons undone to reveal her cleavage. A short black skirt was around her waist, but she couldn’t look down any farther than that because of the ring around her throat.

She shrieked in terror, somehow still trying to make sense of it all. That’s when she noticed the figure dressed from head to toe in black. It was stood next to the board, writing something in small letters that she couldn’t quite make out.

Hannah called out to the figure frantically; her mind didn’t seem to tell her the obvious—that this person was her captor.

Her eyes widening in panic, the figure walked over and unfastened the restraints on her left arm, placed a pencil and exercise book on the small desk in front of her and returned to the board.

She started to cry, but the figure turned to her again, ‘Copy down the notes from the board.’ he spoke in a low husky voice.

Amazement now joined the list of emotions coursing through Hannah’s fragile body, and she found herself speaking timidly, ‘What?’

The man repeated his instructions.

‘But I can’t see!’ she screamed at him.

Again, he repeated his command.

She took up the pencil and instantly realised that she wrote with the other hand. The man was turned towards her now, watching her every movement. She looked at the board and took a guess at what the first line said. Opening the book carefully, she pressed the pencil to the paper. And the lead broke.

She looked desperately at her captor, still too groggy to understand that this was all really happening. Her eyes, full of tears, pleaded with him.

The dark man walked slowly over to her and with little opposition, restrained her left arm again. He reached down and unbuttoned her blouse, setting aside the neat red tie and letting her oval breasts hang free. She instantly struggled against impossible bonds, and repeatedly begged him to stop. He held them briefly in his gloved hands then reached into a hidden pocket in his black jumpsuit. Grabbing the left nipple, he placed a clamp over it, looked up to watch the expression on her tender face and then dug it into her flesh.

She visibly shook with pain. Her screams told him how much pain. The second clamp went on in much the same way, digging into the other nipple. The first shock didn’t prepare her for the second, and Hannah’s body trembled violently as the teeth drew blood.

Suddenly the earth seemed to move for her. She realised that her chair was being tilted forward towards the desk and she screamed out again. Feeling tired of her shrieks; the man held the chair with one hand and stuffed a pair of knickers that he produced from another pocket into her mouth. They were Hannah’s own virgin white panties, still moist from when she wet herself during the kidnapping.

She began to force them out of her mouth, disgusted, but he had already grabbed a roll of tape and bit a piece off. As the knickers started to emerge from her succulent lips, he pushed them back in and fixed the tape over her mouth.

Useless mewing followed, but he ignored her. Holding the chair at roughly 45 degrees over the desk he attached the other ends of the clamps to small hooks at the top of the table. He could see in her eyes that she knew what has going to happen, even if she didn’t believe it actually was happening.

Making sure the clamps were tight enough, and moving his face down next to her smooth white breasts, pulling the fronts of her draping blouse over her back, he let go of the chair.

Her eyes screwed up instantly as her tits stretched; the force of her own weight pulling her agonizingly backwards while the clamps held her firmly forwards. He pressed a finger to her left breast to test its tautness and watched for a minute or two as she ever so slowly fell backwards and her tits stretched just that little bit more.

Leaping away, the man walked behind her and carefully tucked the back of her black skirt into the waist. Eyeing the cutaway section of the chair where her bottom was now left completely underwear-free and exposed, he wasted no more time.

His first gloved spank caught her completely unaware on the right cheek. As if the pain of the clamps wasn’t enough already, Hannah now had to cope with being thrust forward with each slap only to have her breasts tugged hard as she fell back into position.

He was deliberately spanking her slowly, admiring each new patch of redness on her bare bottom as he did so. And he knew of course about the torture her breasts were going through. That didn’t concern him. This girl was naughty. He’d soon put an end to that. Being naughty wouldn’t get you through life. This girl needed to be taught about the real world.

Yes, he thought to himself as he firmly smacked her smooth behind to the sounds of hopeless mewing and crying noises, this girl was lucky to be tutored by him. So very lucky.

Jackie paced into the department cafeteria and called over to Hammond on the other side of the mostly empty and spacious room. He hurried over when he caught the look on her face.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked quickly, leading her out of the room and into the vacant corridor.

Jackie looked down at the papers in her hand then struggled to find the right words, ‘We missed something.’

‘Come on Jackie! What is it?’ he asked, placing his half-eaten sandwich on a desk nearby and giving her his full attention.

Jackie let out a deep breath, ‘We just received a missing person’s report. A girl named Hannah Jefferson has been missing for twenty-four hours. Her parent’s phoned in.’

‘How is this related to our case?’

‘She’s disabled, wheelchair-bound. She attended a special school, and the term finished yesterday. Long natural hair and short-sightedness, the signs are all there. Her wheelchair was found only a few streets down from the school itself.’

Hammond gazed over her shoulder, lost in thought. They hadn’t considered special schools at all.

‘Our guy just got him another victim, and she’s no doubt going through the worst ordeal of her life at this very moment. And there’s not a thing in hell we can do about it.’ Jackie’s teeth were clenched and faint tears pooled in her eyes.

Hammond grabbed his jacket and walked away down the corridor, leaving Jackie standing there unsure of how to proceed.

Hannah let out a low moan, as discreetly as she could. Her lips fell open in gentle pleasure as the vibrator pulsated deep inside her vagina. Tied and unable to move save for her left arm, she could do nothing but squirm while the plastic device fucked deep into her now wet cunt.

It was ribbed, huge and thick and was responsible for stealing her virginity only ten minutes ago. The whole event had sickened her, raped by a strange rapidly vibrating cock, while her bottom still stung like a thousand bee’s had attacked her.

The man had continued the smacking for longer than she wanted to recount, but afterwards he was remarkably polite; lowering her carefully to the ground and soothing her aching breasts. Her uniform had been neatened and her hair brushed tidily downwards, its natural blonde colour mixing well with the rest of her clothing.

Hannah wasn’t sure if the stretching of her tits had in some way damaged them, but she couldn’t help but notice how hard and pert; not only the nipples; but the whole of the breasts felt. The fabric of the tight blouse, now re-buttoned at the front, brushed over them ever so gently as she squirmed on the vibrator and the sensations she received each time were arousing her incredibly.

He had removed her gag, threatening to replace it if she made too much noise, and promising her a hard spanking if he was required to do so.

Turning from writing on the board, the white chalk making a mess on his black gloves, the man watched beneath the table as the vibrator continued to hum deep inside Hannah’s rather tight slit.

Her legs were tied apart, as they had been from the beginning, to the outsides of the front chair legs. The table of the desk itself was just above her most private of parts, laid bare and wide open for him to observe as he pleased.

Right now, she was plugged into a mains-run vibrator operating at half speed. He could see clearly from her face that she was starting to enjoy it more than she would like to admit.

‘Does that feel good, Hannah?’ he asked sharply.

‘No sir!’ she lied desperately, hoping that he didn’t suspect otherwise. The lecture she was being forced to copy down from the board at this very moment was all about not giving into the pleasures of the flesh. Hannah had already interrupted the meaning for herself, despite her lack of good sight and the awkwardness of writing with the wrong hand.

‘Good. Never give into temptation. Pleasure is a great enemy, a storm that shadows us all. Learn to keep it at a distance and you will not be ruled by it.’

Hannah only vaguely listened as he rambled on, but as he came closer to her she struggled to hide her true emotions; desperate to conceal the pleasure that coursed throughout her body for fear of another spanking. Her slightly-freckled cheeks were bright red and sweat was starting to appear along her forehead.

‘Are you sure your cunt doesn’t feel good, Hannah?’

She struggled briefly with her words then replied quickly ‘No sir.’

The man walked slowly behind her and came closer to her restrained body. He put his head gently on her left shoulder and instantly felt her breathing rate shoot up, her chest springing back and forth rapidly. Casually looking down the top of her blouse at the fantastic cleavage hanging loosely below, he gave her a swift command.

‘Stop copying from the board and give me your hand.’

She did so, confused and unwilling. He reached around and took her arm, angling it down under the table. Quickly, he pushed her hand against her cunt and held it firmly in place by the wrist.

‘Now play with yourself.’

Through the mixed pleasure of her tingling breasts and her throbbing pussy, she ran her fingers along the top of her cunt where she believed her clitoris to lie. For the first time ever, Hannah masturbated, driven by desire as the plastic cock fucked her into submission.

The dark figure reached for a small metal box attached to a lead winding away along the floor. Sliding a plastic lever upwards, while still holding Hannah’s hand securely against the centre of her spread legs, he felt her squirm more rapidly as the vibrator increased in speed.

‘Now Hannah, does your cunt feel good?’ he asked again.

She unknowingly tipped her head back and rested against his as the pleasure reached a new high. She manipulated the area where her clit was situated until she hit the spot itself. Forgetting herself completely, she let out an audible moan and clenched her vagina muscles against the device wedged inside her.

Speaking quietly into her ear, the man pushed the vibrator up to maximum.

‘What a dirty, filthy little slut you are, Hannah.’

Either the dirty talk or the increased throbbing sensation on her cunt sent her to the edge. He felt the muscles in her arm go tense as he held it then watched her mouth fall wide as she started to pant in preparation for an enormous orgasm that was building deep inside her passage.

Reaching the very edge, she felt her arm be pulled away from her clit and the vibrator start to die down, before coming to a complete stop still lodged a full eight inches inside.

She turned to him with desperate eyes once again, but this time it was different. She had hit the edge without being allowed to finish. Her face was an expression of immense need, but he ignored her pitiful attempts to permit her to be released of the desire; to let her come like she so badly wanted.

‘I’m disappointed Hannah.’ he said emotionlessly, placing her left arm in its bonds and pivoting the chair towards the desk once again.

This time, he pushed the chair as far forward as it would go, stopping only when her breasts were squashed flat against the table and she was forced to turn her pretty little head on it’s side slightly. Fixing the chair in place by linking several hooks together, he lifted the skirt over her back and tugged the vibrator out of her pussy with one swift movement.

She screamed as he did this, but her pleasure was quickly dying down; the thought of the spanking coming next was an almost terrifying prospect.

And it did indeed come, in the shape of a ping-pong bat. Her fragile rear was quickly covered in new, brighter red marks as the smacks alternated between cheeks. Hannah let out a loud yelp as each one landed and screwed up her eyes to try and block out the pain. But the spanks weren’t getting easier to bear, they were getting much harder.

The man clenched his teeth as he took out his anger on the teenager pressed to the desk in front of him. How dare this little slut indulge in everything he’d been teaching her to keep away from! He directed the blows at the right cheek and launched into a rapid series of hard and stinging slaps across her flesh. The girl was screaming in agony and wriggling urgently before him.

Manacle didn’t care. He was going to cleanse her soul of temptation; free her mind from the everyday desires that the rest of her friends would no doubt be controlled by. This one would truly experience freedom, as had Natasha and Stephanie before her.

Those two had thanked him extensively after they had realised just how filthy they had been. He smiled as he remembered the happy moment when Stephanie had wrote a special lecture just for him, commemorating him for choosing her and liberating her dirtiness. Both girls had been more than willing to express their gratitude by providing sexual favours of all kinds; they understood fully that their teacher wasn’t as fortunate as they; that he had no-one to tutor him to expel his own desires. Natasha had often cried when she thought about the sorrowful story of the teacher who helped others escape the ultimate nemesis, when he was incapable of evading it himself. She fucked him especially hard after such thoughts, desperate to do anything she could to make it easier for him.

He knew Hannah would be just as grateful for his efforts; that she would be no different from the last two slim and sexy teenagers.