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When Wednesday came, Caitlyn didn’t have to be told to strip for Mr Jones. She started undressing eagerly, of her own accord, and she immediately knew it was her best striptease yet.
The difference was that she *wanted* to arouse Mr Jones. She wanted his cock to be hard. She wanted him to tell her she was a good girl, and let her suck his cock.
And that wasn’t all she wanted. She had been thinking all week about how he had beaten her tits with the wooden ruler, and how it had hurt, and how the pain had been both bad and good. She had realised that she wanted it again – she wanted it badly – and so when the last of her clothes came off and she was standing naked in front of her guidance counsellor, she threw herself at him and kissed him on the lips.
As before, he kissed her back, and as she pressed her tits against his chest and her pussy against his groin, she felt the answering hardness of his cock straining against his pants.
When the kiss was done, he said, “I told you not to do that, Caitlyn.”
She bit her lip. “I know, sir,” she said.
“Do you want your tits beaten, Caitlyn?” asked Mr Jones.
She paused – and then nodded.
He grabbed her by the hair, and forced her to the ground, so roughly that she banged her knees – and yet she gasped with pleasure. The feeling of losing control, of being forced, was everything that she wanted. Mr Jones arranged her breasts so that they were resting on the desk, and then picked up his ruler and began to strike her titflesh with it, again and again.
Caitlyn brought a hand to her pussy and began to frantically masturbate as the guidance counsellor abused her breasts, and she was able to achieve orgasm on the ninth blow of the ruler against her boobs.
After the tenth strike, she turned to extract Mr Jones’ cock from his pants, desperate to suck on it – but to her surprise, Mr Jones pulled her upright by her hair, and then forced her to bend over his desk, tits down, ass out. At first she didn’t understand what was happening, but then she heard her guidance counsellor unzip his pants, and she froze.
He was going to fuck her. He was going to *rape* her. He was going to take her virginity. She was going to lose her virginity, right here and right now, to her school guidance counsellor. He was going to fuck her – unprotected – and cum inside her, whether she wanted it or not.
Part of her was horrified. Part of her wanted to struggle.
But that wasn’t the part of her that made decisions these days. These days, she thought with her cunt, and her cunt was *ecstatic*. Not only would she be fucked – really *fucked* – but she would be pleasing Mr Jones, and making Mr Jones pleased made her feel more fulfilled than just about anything.
He might even tell her she was a good girl.
So she just wiggled her ass enticingly, and a moment later she felt the warm, wet tip of a cock poking against her pussy lips, and a moment after that it was sliding inside her, filling her fucktunnel in a way that felt deliciously *right*.
She moaned with happiness as she was raped, eagerly bucking against Mr Jones’ cock, desperately hoping she was fun to rape.
She had always imagined that the first time she had sex, her partner would say beautiful, loving things to her, but instead what Mr Jones said was, “You are a stupid, brainless little cockteasing fuckpuppet, Caitlyn,” and Caitlyn orgasmed when she heard it, because she knew it was true – she had *always* known it was true – and it felt so good to hear someone finally say it out *loud*.
She orgasmed again when he ejaculated inside her. She was on birth control, but she knew there was a chance she might get pregnant anyway, and the idea of being such a *cliché* – a pregnant teen whore – made her convulse with slutty shame and need.
When it was over, he pulled out of her, and he taught her how to clean up after sex – wiping the man’s cock clean on her face and tits, and then sucking the last cum off it with her mouth, before transferring the excess cum from her pussy into her mouth using her hands.
“Good cunt,” he said when she was done – and it made her feel so proud and happy that she wanted him to rape her all over again.
He offered to tutor her in a subject, once she was clean, but she turned him down.
“I know I’m going to fail, Mr Jones,” she said. “You were right, I’m not very smart. Let’s just focus on teaching me to be a good stripper.”
So for the rest of the session he had her crawl around on all fours, the way she might crawl on stage. And he stuffed ripped-up pieces of paper up her cunt and her anus, the way that customers might stuff banknotes into her holes to reward her for her stripping. And he called her a stupid cunt, and a big-titted whore, and a disgusting rape-pig, so that she could practice smiling brightly as she was demeaned and degraded, and thank him for the compliments.
She may have waited 18 years for her first raping, at the hands of Mr Jones, but she only had to wait a couple of hours for her second.
It was dark by the time she was leaving school, still floaty with the endorphins of sex and praise and submission, and she didn’t see the boys until one of them had a handful of her hair.
“Look,” she heard one say. “It’s the cunt that masturbates in Mr Ford’s class.”
There was laughter – and then she was being dragged, violently, by her hair, to a dark shadowy corner behind the school gym.
She thought there were four boys – and she recognised one of them as Todd Grel, who she had been friends with since kindergarten. There was no friendship in his eyes now – just lust, and an erect cock in his pants.
She thought about calling for help – but it was public knowledge now that she masturbated in class. She was wearing no panties, and her see-through white top showed her tits. Would anyone even want to help her? Or would they just join in?
And besides, wasn’t this her destiny? Didn’t she *want* to be raped?
She felt a boy rip off her shirt, and another dragged her skirt down her legs. One boy unzipped his pants, and then she felt his cock against her cheek, as she slapped her face with it repeatedly and laughed.
She was on her knees, naked. Someone else grabbed her hair and pulled her around to face them. It was Todd, and he had his cock out too. Casually, callously, he slapped her across the face – hard – and when her mouth opened, he stuffed his cock into it.
She began to suck, instinctively, obediently, submissively. She felt hand on her waist, lifting her up, and she cooperated. A moment later, a cock was sliding into her cunt, even as she continued to suck on Todd, and she moaned. There were hands on her tits, squeezing, pinching, and it felt good.
They used her for more than an hour, and they all ejaculated inside her. Todd managed to cum twice. They fucked her mouth, her pussy, and her anus – although they at least allowed her to scoop cum and pussy juices from her pussy and use them to lubricate her ass before they took her anal virginity.
They said very little to her – although they talked about her. “Fuck, she’s tight,” said one boy as he raped her pussy. “She sounds like a fucking animal,” said another boy, referring to the moans she made as he violated her ass. “Pinch her tits harder – her cunt squeezes your dick harder when you hurt her,” suggested Todd.
They enjoyed being cruel to her. Todd wasn’t the only one to slap her face – they all took a turn. One boy punched her in the tits a few times, as if they were boxing bags, and another kicked her in the cunt after he was done fucking her.
She was genuinely crying when they were done – but she was happy to be crying. She knew her tears aroused them. And the tears acknowledged the resolution of a tension. All her life she had been a dumb fucktoy, but she had never admitted it, never allowed her friends to acknowledge it – but now people were treating her exactly like she deserved to be treated, and it felt so good to not be *pretending* anymore.
She didn’t forget Mr Jones’ lesson, either – she cleaned off all the boys’ cocks when they were done with her, using her face, tits, and mouth, and then cleaned herself up by digging the cum out of her pussy and ass with her hands and transferring it to her mouth.
Her clothes were ruined – ripped. They left her there, lying behind the gym, as they wandered into the darkness, laughing and sharing crude jokes, and when they were gone, she scuttled home, naked, trying to avoid anywhere that she might be seen.
Her parents were blessedly out for the night, and there was no one to ask her why she was nude, or covered in cum, or to stop her from going to her bedroom and masturbating to orgasm after orgasm.