Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

Self-Bondage Humiliation 2

by Zephyr

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© Copyright 2014-2022 - Zephyr - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbf; MF+/f; fpov; naked; basement; cuffs; gag; bond; bdsm; blackmail; party; torment; tease; insert; susp; force; cupboard; hum; oral; sex; climax; cons; reluct; XX

Continues from

Part 2.

Antonio Meraz was a quiet, standard intense Italian guy. Liz told me he played rugby like he did everything else, looked it over, planned his steps, then made things happen. He was scary good, she said, when he wanted to be. He had shown up at a few of the parties, kept an eye on me from a distance, but never did anything with me. Two or three of the players didn't want anything to do with what was being done to me, and he was one of them. Happy to socialize, happy to drink the beer, wasn't into abusing the furniture. He took crap from some of the guys for never doing anything with me, even when they taunted him to come up and kiss me or feel me up or have sex with me, but he pretty much just waved a beer bottle at them and laughed them off. They all did respect him, he was almost a 4.0 student, came from some manufacturing family in New York City, was a marketing and management double major, and everyone had penciled him in as one of these "take over Dad's company when he gets old enough" stories. And by all the looks of things he could. And he could kick a rugby ball, Liz told me, half the field and quite often land it in a four-foot circle.

I recognized him from the few classes we inevitably had together over time. He had never really associated with me (I had probably made my disdain for rugby players too well known) but every once in a while when I was lightly dressed I could catch him looking me over. And then knowing he'd been caught, he'd look anywhere else for the rest of the hour. But he stayed away, and the haughty bitch I was back then liked it that way.

He was MVP this game, and I found out later the guys were ragging him all the way back, and it was a two-and-a-half hour ride back. Well, Lara is yours tonight, finally going to dip your wick in that, aren't you? After a while of this, he suddenly said yes, that he wanted me up in my room all night and yeah, it was time to try me out.

So when they got home, they told me all about it as they took me down from where I had fastened myself into the frame, and took me upstairs and locked me spread-eagled still naked to my bed. OK, at least I was going to be able to spend the night on my back. And Antonio was muscular enough, and serious enough that he no doubt knew his way around a woman's body. I sure hoped so. Well, I'd be seeing his methods up close before too long and would have an informed opinion by morning.

He came in about fifteen minutes later. Normally when this happens the guy has the fourth beer in his hand mostly drained, is buzzed and is ready for some fun with a helpless female. He had the beer but it was still full. He locked my door, put the beer down on my desk, moved to the bed and began to unfasten my hands.


When my hands were free, he pulled one of the pillows and the top blanket off the bed and threw it to the floor in the middle of the room. "Lara, I don't do things to helpless women. It's wrong. Just please tell everyone we had sex the normal way, then I let you loose and we fell asleep together on the bed. I'll sleep here on the floor for a few hours, then go home, and hopefully they'll shut up. OK?"

I looked at him, then managed to nod a yes. He rolled off the bed, stripped down to his undershorts, arranged himself on the pillow and with the blanket under him as a pad, and lay still. Probably was, really, actually, going to go to sleep. He did have a decent to decently-large package from the looks of things.

Something flipped inside of me. Maybe a little outrage. Maybe gratitude that at least one of them saw me as a human being despite everything that was happening. And a small voice inside me pointed out that I actually was looking forward to the orgasms.

I unlocked my ankles and removed both sets of cuffs. And then I slid off the bed, down to where Antonio had in fact started to doze off, and started to trace the outline of his manhood through his boxers.

He came back to and grabbed my hand. "Lara, you don't have to do this. Go back to sleep. You've got the night off." But it was too late for me, he had already become hard, and yes, he looked good.

I pulled my hand free from his and slid his boxers down. He looked like he was going to stop me, had a little fight inside himself, stayed still. I finished pulling off the boxers. Yep, he looked good up close, too. "You're not making me. I want to."

"I'm not like them. I'm not into hurting women! It makes me want to puke."

"You gave me the night off." I replied, starting to sound a little cross. "And this is how I want to spend my evening." I stared meaningfully down between his legs. "You don't want me, then?"

He was taken aback and silent at that for a few seconds. "I've thought you were beautiful from the first second I saw you. But you're heading back to your family out west, and I'm going back to the City to mine. So, no, it'd never work. And I don't waste people's hearts, mine or anyone else's, on one-night stands." I was surprised he knew that much about me.

I climbed up and straddled him far enough to put the slit of my pussy rubbing right against the head of his cock. I was plenty wet. All I had to do was slide down and he'd be inside me. And it'd feel real good. And I wanted it. But I waited.

"I want you, Antonio. You aren't forcing me to do anything. You're a hunk, you're well-built, and" I smiled "you'd feel real good inside me right now."

He grabbed the bottom of my tush, preventing me from sliding down. I wondered what would happen if I tried to force myself down on him, but he seemed pretty strong and wasn't having much trouble holding me up.

"I'm a gentleman, and I don't take advantage of ladies! We don't do that. Look, if you're just afraid of what will happen if you don't. We can both say we did and no one will ever know. You don't have to." But he was rock hard underneath me, just knocking on the outside, and it felt real, real good.

"Then fine." I shot back. "Don't argue with the lady, then. Screw my brains out. I'm asking you to. I'll beg if I have to. I want you to. Unless you don't."

He stopped dead for about ten seconds, then withdrew his hands. "Yeah, I want to." He admitted, almost a whisper. And then I dropped down fully on him, and yes, it felt incredible. After about four thrusts on him, the world whirled on me and when it stopped I found myself on my back and him continuing in and out of me from above in a more traditional and quite energetic fashion. I just smiled and clasped my arms behind my head, watching his eyes.

He was good. I came twice, him once, then we fell asleep right there on the carpet. His watch went off around three AM, and he woke with a start, realizing his situation, and started to stammer an apology for the things he'd done, to which I rolled over, put my finger across his lips and then replaced my finger with my lips. After the kiss I just shook my head at him. "No, no, don't apologize. That was beautiful. You were great. You gave me what I wanted. You're beautiful!"

He kissed me back, and then put on his clothes and was gone. I reassembled the bed and lay down on it, intending to go back to sleep. I felt so good, so relaxed, it took a whole ten seconds.

I came down for one game, and some stuff had been added to the frame where I'd be displayed later that night. A ratchet-like mechanism was attached to the top of the frame right over my head and the wide bar from our weight bench hung from it. A sit up board was clamped right behind it, its padded surface running from the top to the floor. I had no idea, but figured I'd find out, and they hadn't told me any different, so after I had set up the beer and snacks, I stripped and cuffed myself into the frame the traditional way, which backed me up against the sit up board.

It turned out to be Bruce's idea. They attached my wrists to the outside of the wide bar, keeping them spread above me to the winch, which looked like it could be used to bring it, and therefore me, up and down. Another board was placed in front of me and my ankles were tied to it, leaving them straight out in front of me and about four feet apart. Useless for trying to help me stand.

So as they added slack to the winch line I slid lower until I was almost in a sitting position, except there was no chair underneath me. My legs were way out in front of me and spread what would have been for anyone else obscenely wide, for me these days down here it was about average. I found that the rope to the keg, when pulled, worked the ratchet mechanism above me and dropped me about a quarter of an inch each time. Bill tugged at it repeatedly until I was about a foot off the floor. Then I found out what this was all about.

Bruce took the beer bottle that he had by this time emptied, and placed it under me, inserting the neck into my vagina. Another piece of wood between the bottle and the floor ensured it would stay right there and be driven all the way up into me. It was pointed out to the crowd that every time someone got a drink I'd be dropped a little further and the bottle would go more fully into me, until it was all the way in, so everyone drink up!

Of course there was nothing I could do about it. I was dropped onto the bottle the first time in about two minutes. I could pull a little up on the wide bar, but Bruce whispered that if I pulled up high enough to drop the bottle out he'd spank me hard before setting it back up again, so I didn't do anything.

Once the bottle was all the way in, someone cranked the ratchet back up and I was slowly dropped back onto it again, three times. After the second time my wrists were starting to get tired, but Mitch, the bastard, came by and ran clover clamps onto my nipples over to the bar attached to my hands. He made them tight enough that my nipples were already stretched, if I let go of the bar I estimated, and could see he planned that I'd be hanging from my nipples instead of my suspension cuffs. Ball gagged, all I could do was glare hatred at him, and of course no one interfered. And so, halfway down the third time, my hands gave out, and I let out a squeal of pain as my entire weight went on my nipples. The nearby people stopped for a second, but nobody did anything about it, so there I hung. I went pretty much straight off into subspace with that, I was aware of what was happening but mentally was gone and just a limp rag of a naked woman to be abused, which they did. I maintained awareness of my surroundings, and could respond if someone asked me something, but otherwise I just wasn't there.

That lasted about ten minutes. Liz noticed, got my suspension cuffs hooked up to the bar, and while my nipples were a little stretched I wasn't hanging by them any longer. Nobody would tell her who did it to me, but I don't think she had any doubt.

Someone replaced the regular beer bottle with a long-necked, larger beer bottle. I came back long enough to be unhappy about that, which had no effect except a little laughter and Liz' incorrect assurances to the crowd that I was loving this. The regular beer bottle had been comfortable, filling, an easy fit but the long-neck was about 3 inches longer. Without a choice I found I could accommodate that, too, and went down on it (or it went up into me, depending) twice. Then someone, I think it was Creighton, came up to me with a wine bottle. I shook my head and mumbled no, but nobody was listening, I was cranked up to an adequate height and the neck of the wine bottle inserted in me.

The long-neck beer bottle was about as much as I could handle, and this one was about five inches longer. On top of that, it was so much bigger, about four inches in diameter. I didn't think I could fit it in me, I'd just tear or wind up stretched and run aground on the bottle. I tried to struggle, but since I was tied in place it had no effect and nobody paid any attention to it anyway.

The first three or four beers people got weren't a problem, but then my weight started driving the flare of the bottle into me. I found the strength to grab the wide bar and pull myself up off of it, but that only lasted a few minutes. My arms gave way all at once and I felt myself stretch as I sank all at once about four inches onto the bottle. I screamed.

What I didn't do, to my amazement, was tear. And while it didn't feel real good (great taste, hardly, but surely not less filling!). Bill had come over to refill his beer, and watched me as the keg handle came up and I went a quarter-inch further onto the bottle. It didn't hurt, I already had the widest part of it in me, so all I did was sink a little further. He looked concerned, so I gave a wan smile and nodded. He took the first swig out of his cup and moved off.

I found before the night was through that I could in fact sink fully onto a 12-inch wine bottle. I proved it twice.

Several more rugby games occurred, nothing extreme happened, two of the nights the MVP took me upstairs and did my tied and helpless body, the others I spent standing there getting groped and my nipples tugged, with breaks to go on my knees and suck someone off and a very occasional being tied to the table and fucked. Almost could put a girl to sleep.

Then the no-extreme stuff ended one Wednesday night. After setting up, I cuffed myself into the frame. I didn't need to strip, I wasn't wearing clothes down here anymore, they were just something more to clean up. I wondered what would happen tonight, and why I didn't refuse to be a part of this.

But I knew why I didn't refuse. Liz was right, I was secretly loving this. Well, maybe not so secretly. I stayed wet and turned on most of the time I was down here, and had explosive orgasms between parties remembering what had been done to me and how I felt. And nobody gave me a bit of problem anywhere else. I saw all of them at one point or other through the week, and none of them had ever done a thing negative to me. Some in fact were more gallant, opening doors for me and things like that. Probably thinking of the last time I had given them a blow job. And what they'd want done the next time. I stopped running from it, yes, I was a slut, and all these guys' bitch, but it wasn't going to last forever, and it was nothing I ever would have wanted to happen, but it was… fun.

This game Mitch turned out to be the MVP. He brought a bag down and a small electric motor which had a barrel to wind rope on attached to it. This went on the ground right beside my frame. They took rope, looked like 3/8 nylon, out of the bag and tied one end to my ankle on the side away from the motor. Mitch ran the rope through the eyebolt that ankle was attached to, up to the eyebolt above it, through it and to that hand and back again, over my top to the eyebolt holding the other hand.

As he pulled the slack out of what he had done so far, I suddenly figured out where this was going, and it wasn't good. But I was already chained in position, so I could do nothing but watch as he ran the line down to the eyebolt for the other ankle, in and out of it and the free end was tied in a catch on the motor's winding wheel. I could see that as the motor ran, it'd wind and take all the slack out of the ropes. They had turned my frame into a standing rack.

There was nothing I could do anyway. Steve asked, "Won't that get too tight and hurt her?"

"Nah." Mitch replied. "It has a governor and I've set it for two-twenty-five. Plenty enough to stretch her and get her off the ground, and she'll feel it, but it won't hurt her." I wished I shared Mitch's opinion. And I really, really wished I wasn't about to verify it.

He reached down and plugged the motor in. It came to quiet humming life and the wheel slowly started winding. I would have struggled, but what good would it do? Now that it was set up and was going to take a while, everyone wandered off until it became more interesting.

The first thing that happened is that it pulled all the slack out of my hands, which took about fifteen minutes. Then with nowhere else to gather from, the pressure started to move my feet outward and little by little they slid further apart. Jamie came by and took a few pictures. Liz came by, quite drunk, and spent a few minutes running her hands over my chest and arms, telling me how good I was going to look stretched tight. Maybe she'd whip me later when I was tight, off the ground and unable to move.

As the rope slowly crept tighter, I was forced up on tip-toes, which made it almost impossible to resist my feet slowly being pulled the rest of the way apart. They were about the full 5 feet apart the frame would afford and the strain on my crotch was starting to be a noticeable hurt, and I didn't think I could spread them anymore. Which turned out to be the case, with no more slack from my ankles the winch started lifting me off the ground. I scrabbled with my toes for the minute or so it took them to lose contact with the floor, then the struggling was all over. I assumed a hard "X" figure as my wrists and feet were slowly maneuvered as far apart as they could go. I wound up stretched tight, with my feet about four inches off the ground.

There was no slack left any more. It was just stretching, just torture now. Every joint in my arms and legs was burning and felt like it was stretching out of its joints and sockets. Mitch was wrong, or maybe he knew and just didn't care. That 225 pounds, or whatever, hurt! Nobody cared. Some of them were enjoying it. Some people came up and touched me, felt me up, one took a flogger and used it gently on me for a while. I recall at least one person having sex with me, there might have been more. I had long since faded off into subspace and was safe there.

This time when the team came down, there was an extra face. Angie, if I remembered right, Jamie's girlfriend. New person. No, no, no, no, no.

Liz came up to me, quiet, looking down, apologetic. "Sorry about Angie, Lara. I know we agreed no one else could get involved, but Jamie and Walt fucked up and she overheard them talking about you down here at the parties. And she threatened to go to the dean if we didn't start including her."

There was nothing I could do, naked and stretched out, anyways. Liz gave me a small apologetic smile and moved off in search of Bill.

Angie was about my height, bleach blonde hair halfway down her back, curvy, close but not as curvy as me. She was in white shorts and a tank top, and had looked me over as she got her first beer, but otherwise was off near the pool table and Jamie. She came by once and traced her finger all over my chest for a few minutes, but left me alone outside of that. After about an hour and three beers, though, she made her move.

"Jamie, I want you to tie me up to Lara." Angie started. I gave a start, but that was about all I could do. She fished the backup set of suspension cuffs out of the box and tossed them to him, then reached down and stepped out of her shorts. No panties. "Tie me up right like she is, facing her, then take a belt and wrap it way tight around our chests." Off came the top and bra. "And if she doesn't kiss me well enough, you whip her backside to help her want to."

"OK." Jamie warned her. "But if you get tied up like that, you get treated like that." Angie just glared a defiant you-better-not look at him. After a second, she started audibly tapping her high-heeled foot.

Jamie was pretty drunk, but he wasn't stupid. The suspension cuffs went on her wrists and ankles, and she was fastened facing me, right in my face. The beer on Angie's breath was awful, and she was pretty well blitzed. The belt was wrapped around our chests, and we, especially our breasts, were squished together (she had just an average-large size chest, but I made up for it) and our faces were forced to touch. "Ok, bonita, kiss me and make me happy I'm here." She whispered to me. "Or else."

Having nothing better to do, and even less choice, and helped by the few beers I'd been fed, I opened my mouth and Angie's tongue slid right in. I wasn't lesbian, or even bi, and I'd never even entertained the thought of doing things with another girl, but I was into being forced, and I was definitely being forced here. And I better get with the program before Jamie, who had lots of reasons to keep Angie happy, decided to motivate me.

It was ok. I closed my eyes and kinda managed to forget I was kissing another girl. The beers helped. I had someone tied up to me, kissing me, and it did feel good, and I was being forced to do this, which also helped. So we kissed, and both drooled a little, but after a few minutes I gave up caring, since I had no choice, and started kissing her back and enjoying it. We got our share of attention, and it lasted for a little while. I could hear cameras around me every so often, but that horse was so far gone from the barn for me that I hardly thought of it, but wondered how Angie's life was about to change.

After about a half-hour someone decided to turn the tables on Angie. OK, if she wanted to be a prisoner-slut, they'd show her what it was really like. Out of the corner of my eye while Angie and I kissed, I could see Arnold going to my toy bag and grabbling my sleeping blindfold. It was over Angie's eyes before she knew what was happening. Then Arnold, without making a sound, dropped trou, pulled her hips back just like people did to me and slid into her.

She let out a squeal of outrage, and started yelling "No, no, no." But by this time Jamie was ready. After the third "no" her mouth was open wide enough to pop a ball gag into it, and he did. Spread hand and foot as I was, she could do nothing to prevent it from being strapped tightly into her mouth. Squeals were the best protest she could make as Arnold, then Mike, then Steve all did her (while Mike was busy Shawn did me). And the cameras were going for her this time as well.

They left her there for the remainder of the night. After Steve she stopped protesting, either starting to enjoy it or just realizing that it did her no good, so the ball gag was pulled out (but the blindfold left on). She remained silent after that, and didn't try to kiss me anymore. About three more guys over the course of the party took advantage of her, to which she more or less co-operated, by her body language just trying to get it over with faster.

This party ended early, around 1:30. Everyone else had left but Liz and Jamie. He had taken his girlfriend a second time and then passed out snoring gently on one of the sofas for the last few hours. Liz let me go, then motioned for me to let Angie out as she made a very rapid departure of her own.

Angie was pretty much gone, drunk and tied standing for about five hours, fucked more than half a dozen times, and she had cum by my count at least three times, maybe four or five. I pulled off the blindfold and smoothed out her hair as much as I could with my fingers. She blinked to adjust her eyes to the light as I took the ankle cuffs off her feet, then I reached up and disconnected her wrists. As expected she pretty much collapsed, so I guided her down to a soft crash landing on the nearest couch.

She rested as I tidied up, but after about ten minutes stirred. She found her shorts and top (she discovered her bra was long gone) and put them back on, and walked unsteadily over to Jamie and stood over his passed-out body. I wondered if the dishing out of hell was about to begin, and if we could prevent police intervention from all the screaming and bodily injury that was probably going to ensue. But she knelt down tenderly, opened and dropped his pants, and began sucking gently on his cock, which soon swelled up under her efforts. I wondered if we were going to have a Lorena Bobbitt re-enactment here, but he came around gently, began caressing her hair and quietly complimenting her efforts until he grabbed her hair with both hands and I could see him spurt and her swallow it all. Nice form, I thought, taking notes.

"Take me home now, pobre." She whispered gently to him. "I've had a hard night and I need my shower, my bed, and my man beside me."

He looked up at her. "Not mad?"

She smiled tiredly and a little wanly. "Nah. I'll kill you later for that. Maybe in about 10 years or so." She smiled at the shocked look on his face, then shook her head. "I asked you to tie me to her, demanded you do it, even though you warned me things might get out of hand. While I was there I accepted that I was ok with this happening, just this once. You didn't let me get hurt, just well fucked, and, you know, I kinda liked it." She smiled. "But that was that, and never again. Only you." She squinted at him. "Let that happen to me again, and I *will* cut your balls off, Entendes?"

"Entendido." They got up and started to leave.

"Good night, Lara." Angie called as they left. "Had a good time. You're an awesome kisser once you get past it. Thanks!"

Antonio was the MVP the next game. He again had me left upstairs for his personal and private use, and he again immediately untied me. He laid back down on the floor again, and I snuggled into him almost immediately. He snuggled back. We didn't have sex, although I made it clear I was willing, but he declined. Yes he wanted me. Yes, this was probably the only time he'd pass up that offer. But he wanted to pass on it once, for him. But he would, with a little pestering, snuggle. So we snuggled. He felt great. I pointed out after a few minutes that the bed would be a lot more comfortable, so we moved up there and continued snuggling. It was probably one of the happiest nights I'd had in years, easily happier than any night I had since being caught in the basement. We slept soundly next to each other until morning.

One day in Antiquities class turned out to be the worst non-party day of my life. It was a 11-to-12 class, and the class was empty until another class started at 1. Mitch was in the class with me, along with three of his buddies, all rugby players, all regulars at the parties.

The bell rang and most of us packed up and started to leave. Jerry, one of the four, stopped me and started asking me questions about the test we were having on Friday. I didn't feel real comfortable, I was lightly clothed in a really short halter-top sundress and flats, and he was enjoying the view. But I didn't want to diss him and get him pissed at me, which he could avenge at a party, so I answered his questions patiently.

But then I looked up. Mitch, Jerry, the other two guys (Steve, but not my housemate Steve, and John) were the only ones in the room any more, and the other three were walking up to me. I'd have been uncomfortable at any time, and feeling (correctly) like I'd been set up, but with Mitch in the mix I felt hugely uncomfortable.

Mitch came right up to me. "The next party isn't until Tuesday. Give us all blow jobs before you leave."

I felt my blood run cold. Everyone here knew the rules. They could, and did, do anything they wanted in the basement, but it was never supposed to happen anywhere else. I had a sinking feeling, surely everyone here knew that.

"Not here, Mitch. You know that." Suddenly, I (correctly) felt very surrounded. And cornered. I was correct about that, too. "Only in the basement. Wait until Tuesday. I'll blow all four of you all night then." I realized I couldn't run, between the four of them I was boxed in.

"Here. Now."

"No! Someone will come in!"

"One of us will stand at the door and tell anyone who wants to come in that a teacher is counseling a student and they asked to be undisturbed." The four of them moved closer, and I started to feel desperate.

"You promised! You all promised! Only in the basement!"

"We don't want to wait that long. We know you don't have a class until 3. You can do all four of us and be out of here by 12:45."

"Let's go to my basement. It isn't far. Or to one of your rooms. I'll do you all. Just not here, not in a classroom in the middle of Raleigh Hall!"

They moved in a little closer, they were all just within arm's reach of me. If they were trying to intimidate me, it was working perfectly. "Here." Mitch repeated. "Now. Or we'll take it out on you at some of the parties, and who knows where some pictures might show up. Nothing quite showing your face, but enough to get people wondering."

I could scream. It would be the end of my college life here. Everything would come out. Damn them, they knew! They promised! But as I looked around, none of them looked in a compromising mood.

It would just be four blow jobs. Mitch was right, It was about 12:10, I could probably be out of here by 12:45. I nodded and in a quiet voice surrendered. "Who's first?"

Mitch sprang into action. "Steve, go stand outside the door. John and Jerry will go first, you'll be third and I'll go last." Steve grumbled a little, but headed for the door. Right after that, before I could realize what he was doing, Mitch had reached under my dress, found my panties, and yanked hard down. By the time I reacted, they were down around my ankles. Actually lower than that.

John dropped trou and with a huge smile settled into my chair. I looked around, and still seeing no mercy, stepped over to him (leaving my panties on the ground) and kneeling down, took him into my mouth. God, I hope they all came fast.

I started using my hands, but one of the other two grabbed them and held them behind me. I could deal with it. I could have made them come faster with the use of my hands, but down in the basement quite often I serviced the guys with my hands behind my back (usually handcuffed) or tied out to the sides or somewhere else so I could only use my mouth. It would make things take longer, but ok. 12:50 maybe.

Then I felt the cold steel at my wrists held behind me, and I started to struggle but whoever had my hands held them tight and the handcuffs were pretty much on me by that time anyway. I heard both sides ratchet down and the hands holding mine, no longer needed, release.

I pulled out. "No, no, no. Take them off!" I growled.

"Keep going. You have to do all four of us."

"Not like this."

"Yeah, you're right." And Mitch grabbed the hem of my dress and pulled it up over my head then down past my hands, leaving me completely naked. It was a halter top dress, so the handcuffs didn't prevent it from coming completely off. I cussed out my decision to wear that dress this morning. The dress was thrown on a desk a few away.

"If you don't keep going, *right now*, we'll take your dress and leave you just like this. Handcuffed, naked, and in the middle of campus. You don't get the handcuffs off or your dress back until all four of us have come, so you'd better get busy."

I fought it, but lost. I realized he could do just what he threatened. I certainly couldn't stop him, and I couldn't chase him down the hallways like this. Yeah. I got a quick mental image of that. Stark naked and my hands cuffed behind me, doing a full frontal down the hallway at lunchtime. I got my panic back under control, and decided to keep going. To be honest I had no promise that things would stop after the fourth blowjob, but I was naked and my hands cuffed behind me, and I needed these assholes to let me loose, so I did as I was bid and got busy again.

John came a little early, I slurped him all up. Jerry was all positioned at the chair beside him, I scooted over and started working on him while John re-dressed and switched places with Steve.

Jerry took a little longer than I wanted. When I looked up after finishing him, it was 35 after. Steve was ready, so I jumped on him. He took a few minutes, but eventually I felt him stiffen up, push his cock hard into my throat, and spurt deep into my mouth. Used to this, I handled it adroitly, but it was 50 after by then, and people would need to start coming into class soon. I hoped they'd just let me go, it would serve Mitch right to miss his turn, but they had different, much worse ideas.

The three of them picked me up and carried me to the back of the classroom, where there was a mop closet. It was about 10x5, and they manhandled me, still naked, into the room and sat me down. I felt someone fumbling with keys at my wrists and one cuff came off. I figured they were going to leave me here to get dressed while they escaped, but nothing nearly so nice. I was forced to lay down flat on my back, and the free end of the handcuffs was run through a water pipe that ran floor-to-ceiling at that side of the room, then reattached to my free wrist. They were going to leave me here! Still naked and handcuffed! While a class was held in the room outside the door! Struggling wouldn't help, screaming would just get me discovered. "It will take forever Mitch Daniels," I vowed in a hiss, "but you'll get yours for this!"

He looked at me. "If you ever tell anyone what happened here, if they even dream it, one night down in the basement, I'll get you alone and whip you back unconscious again the same way." I shivered uncontrollably. "And then I'll put a dozen more marks on your unconscious body as an extra. Understand?"

I just glared at him. I was scared and wanted to scream, but it would only make things worse. To be honest, it couldn't get much worse, but at the moment the way things were if these demons would just let me go I could still graduate, and get way far away from them and eventually make a full escape. So I held my tongue.

They all backed out of the room. A moment later, Mitch came back in with two short pieces of rope, which he used to tie my ankles wide open to either side of the closet. Then he turned off the light and closed the door, and I heard them go to the door and tell John to let people back in (they were all in the 1 PM class). I sat in terrified silence as I heard people enter the room, the small conversations, moments of terror for me as people walked past the door to my mop closet. All they had to do was open the door and there I would be, flat on my back on the floor, hands cuffed to the far wall, ankles tied obscenely open, doing my Sharon Stone without a skirt imitation. I'd die. I'd transfer to another state to finish school (but this nightmare would probably eventually find me there, too). But I would separate Mitch Daniels' balls from his body before any of that happened.

A couple of times before the class started people walked, and two people even had a conversation by the door, to be honest it sounded like Mitch and Steve. Several times people stopped in front of the door, and I tensed up and held my breath, waiting for the sound of the handle turning, but it never happened. Up and down, terror passing to quiet terror. I wasn't gagged, but I might as well have been, I couldn't make a sound for fear of triggering my discovery. So I just lay on the floor, listening to the class go by, the drone of the instructor's voice, my shoulder blades and butt getting cold from the concrete, and waited.

Finally it was over and the people in the class were leaving. What now? What if they just left me here? It could be hours before someone found me. The janitor staff around 10:00 PM would surely use the things in the closet to clean up. But after a few minutes where the noise outside receded to stillness, I heard the door open and the light click on, and Mitch entered the room alone.

"I don't think it's a great idea to stick any portion of me in your mouth, huh?" He asked. I just glared daggers. But his clothes were off in a few seconds and he took me vaginally. From time to time he'd take his hands that were normally at either side of my breasts and put them straight onto them, crushing them down. I whimpered a little, but not knowing anything about what was going on in the classroom made as little noise as possible. He took his time with long, slow strokes, drawing out the time and his pleasure, but finally he tensed up and I felt him spurting into me. He settled down, then after a moment sat up and re-dressed. Just before he left he fished the handcuff key out of his pocket and pressed it into my hand.

"Your dress and shoes are stuffed into your backpack. Remember what will happen to you if you tell anyone about this!" And then he was gone.

End Part 2


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