Story: Allison’s Education, Part 4 – Mathematics

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Chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four | Twenty-Five | Twenty-Six | Twenty-Seven | Twenty-Eight

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Over dinner, Allison dared to broach an awkward topic with her parents. 

“Why do you call my breasts… fuckbags?” she asked.  “And… udders?   You didn’t used to, before I changed schools.” 

“Well,” said her mother, “when we applied to your new school, they were very empathetic about the situation.  They said it can be very traumatic to learn that your daughter is a big-titted slut, and see her kicked out of school for being a whore.  They suggested that we go to see a counsellor, and we’ve been doing that at Tuesday and Thursday lunchtimes, while you’ve been at school.” 

Her father spoke up.   “The counsellor said it was unhealthy for us, and for you, to keep pretending you were a normal girl with normal tits.  It was his idea that we should just use the words that came naturally to our minds when we looked at you, like fuckbags, and rapemelons, and sex-balloons.” 

Her mother continued.   “He actually thought that would be good for you, too, sweetie.  Try saying ‘I have big, slutty rapemelons.’” 

Allison blushed, and looked down at her tits, and mumbled, “I have big, slutty rapemelons.” 

Her father beamed.   “See?  Doesn’t that feel good?  And he also thought it would be healthy to recognise that your fuckbags really are very distracting, and just accept that it’s okay to look at them.” 

“Your father misses a lot of what you’re saying when you speak, dear,” said her mother, “because he’s concentrating so hard on looking at your face instead of your udders.   It’s really easier to just let him stare at them.” 

Her father was already doing that, actively staring at Allison’s breasts across the table. 

“You really do have very pretty whore-pillows, Allison,” he said. 

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The next day, Allison had Mathematics with Ms Sophie, a gorgeous redheaded teacher. 

“Okay, boys,” said Ms Sophie, as the class took their seats.  “Today we’re going to talk about a practical use for maths.  I want you all to look at the nearest girl, and try and use maths to work out the volume of her tits.” 

Allison blushed as Davis, seated next to her, turned to stare at her boobs. 

Allison’s friend Kiki put up her hand.  “Ms Sophie,” she asked, “what are us girls supposed to do?” 

Ms Sophie looked irritated.   “Well, Kiki, as you know, there is no point trying to teach girls mathematics, as their brains simply can’t handle counting higher than the number of holes on their body.  But I suppose I should give you a task to keep you busy.” 

She thought for a moment, and then said, “All right, here’s a problem for you.  Assuming a boy can ejaculate 5 mls of semen every 60 minutes, and you were being raped constantly by three boys, work out how much cum they could pump into you in 24 hours.” 

Allison sat, blushing, thinking about being raped and trying to calculate how many times she would be ejaculated into, while David stared at her boobs, occasionally taking notes on a piece of paper. 

Miss Sophie walked by and rapped Allison across the tits with a whiteboard marker. 

“Shoulders back, Allison,” she said.  “Stop slumping.  Let David get a good look at those udders.” 

At one point, David asked for permission to measure Allison’s tits with a ruler, and Ms Sophie gave him permission.   

Allison did her best to ignore David as he reached out, grabbed her boobs, squeezed them, separated them, and then mashed them together, while pressing his ruler against her nipples, her sideboob, and her underboob.

To her shame, Allison found herself getting progressively wetter the longer she thought about rape, and the more that David played with her fuckbags.  She was fairly sure that her cunt juices were soaking through her panties into her shirt.  She desperately wanted to escape to the toilet, to masturbate, but she couldn’t with David groping and squeezing her breasts. 

By the time the exercise was over, Allison was so horny she didn’t even hear David’s answer as to the volume of her breasts – although she did hear the rest of the class laughing at her in response. 

And when Ms Sophie asked her if she had solved her own problem, and worked out how much cum her rapists had deposited in her, Allison could only make a low, distressed, slutty moan. 

“That’s what I thought,” said Miss Sophie.  “That is exactly how female brains work.  David, would you slap Allison across the udders five times, to discipline her for her failure?” 

David eagerly whacked Allison’s tits – hard – with his hand.  And though it was incredibly painful, Allison found herself wishing that David had been told to hit her six times, or seven, or even eight. 

Because she was pretty sure that if only he had punched her boobs a couple more times, she might have been able to orgasm from the pain…

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