Cleo's Extraordinary Education

The life class was packed, the room hot. The college air conditioning system had broken down, again, that morning, and Cleo was perspiring more than she would have liked. She could feel the dampness spreading on the upper slopes of her breasts, and she mentally cursed her decision not to wear a bra that day under her loose summer dress. She frowned, and forced herself to concentrate on the naked male model who was the center of all their attention.

Her charcoal made quick, accurate strokes, describing his body. She was good at this, she knew she was, and gained great pleasure from the slide of the line she was describing. The model was a young man, not overly muscular, but he had a neat, well-constructed body, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted. An actor, she thought, definitely an actor picking up a few spare dollars for posing nude.

When she came to his loins, her concentration stumbled and she paused. He really did have very well-developed genitals. His penis was large, even at rest, his ball-sac round and tight, and her mind hovered over them uncertainly, trying to integrate their marked disproportion into her design.

She knew well enough what the problem was. She could feel a prickling and rising in her nipples, and felt abruptly self-conscious, knowing they were visible through her dampening dress. She had been celibate for three months, three months since....

She shivered as she remembered, despite the warmth. And with an effort named it. Her deflowering. Her abduction. Her forced and forceful training. For what she did not yet know....

She remembered the heat in her bedroom that night, at the beginning of the summer break, the house dull and lifeless, her companions having left for their various homes, Cleo herself facing a lonely two months as her parents were on a world cruise and she had opted to stay in the city in the hopes of finding work. She was restless and awake, feeling homesick, and comforting herself in a way she often did, two fingers thrust busily between the slippery lips of her young, tight cunt, with its covering of blonde hair, so intent on her small pleasures that she didn't hear the bedroom door opening. The first she knew of her assailant's presence he was looming over her in the moonlight, observing her nakedness, her raised knees and parted thighs, her moist sex, her masturbating. He seemed immensely tall from where she was lying, and very solid and muscular: he wore only a pair of summer jeans. His maleness bulged tightly and obviously against the thin material.

Before she could yell his weight was upon her, his mouth covering hers, stopping her voice with his tongue in her throat, his hands pulling and pinning her wrists together behind her. From somewhere he produced a pair of handcuffs and her wrists were quickly secured behind her: a gag followed and she found herself naked, helpless and voiceless, pulling at the handcuffs to no avail, and wordlessly staring up at him as he knelt between her legs. He smiled. 'Now we can relax, Cleo....'

He knew her name: but she certainly didn't recognize him. He had very blue eyes and she had to admit, even in her predicament, that he was good-looking: strong features, wide shoulders, a broad almost hairless chest, narrow waist. He was unzipping his fly as she watched, revealing a cock as stiff as a telegraph pole, standing straight up in front of his flat muscular stomach. He stepped off her for a moment and disposed of his jeans: Cleo was too scared and stunned to move, remaining as she had been when he arrived, her thighs still wide open, her cunt still moist, the desire her fingers had induced still undiminished, if anything further aroused by his swift and brutal assault.

He sat on the bed, between her legs, his thighs under hers. His strong fingers insinuated themselves under her buttocks and he lifted and pulled her towards him. Grasping himself with one hand he guided his thick cock head between her thighs, and lifting her again he forced an entrance, just, nuzzling within her, letting her cunt feel his male size and strength. Cleo gasped behind her gag and tried to wriggle away but he could hold her easily with one hand and with his other he rolled one of her rapidly stiffening nipples between thumb and forefinger, tugging at it painfully, then released it abruptly and slapped her twice with his open hand, back and forth across her face.

Stunned by the blows, Cleo gave up all pretence of resistance and could only moan as he shoved his ten thick inches into her tight young virgin cunt. She felt her hymen breaking and the dampness of her own blood and tried to scream but couldn't, could only feel his inexorable iron cock pressing, pressing into her very center. Once jammed in her to the hilt, he pushed her over flat on her back, and lifting her bottom tucked a pillow under her. His face was close to hers and she could see his intent, enthralled look, the look of a craftsman enjoying his skill...

He began a slow, regular rhythm, taking his time, enjoying his prey, coming almost out of her and sliding all the way back in, grunting as he reached the limit. His fingers moved on her breasts, his mouth caught the pink bud of her nipple, nipping at her. The little stabs of pain lifted and jolted Cleo, further and further up onto a plateau of desire she had never previously known. She wrapped her legs around him and began to help him, driving him faster into her with her heels, drumming on his back, wanting him now, swept away by the storm of passion. His fingers reached under her and he began to rub at her clitoris, flicking and tweaking her, alongside the stout pillar of his cock, lifting her more and more into an ecstasy she wouldn't have believed possible. He was thrusting ever more rapidly into her, his self-control abandoned, chasing the satisfaction of his own desire, ramming her, jolting pleasure through all her body. She felt that she was nothing but his receptacle, a squeezing tight tunnel for his big cock. She began to spasm on him in the onset of her orgasm and felt him stop, jammed fully into her, then came herself just as he pumped his semen into her, mewing behind her gag, awash in pure mad physical joy, awash in his come.

He held her on him until after the final jerk and spasm of his cock, and then as she felt herself falling away into the exhausted aftermath of her desire, wanting just to hold his big muscular body to hers, tightly, and drift off into sleep, he let himself slip from her and rolled off the bed and came back a moment later. The last thing Cleo knew was the sight of the damp cloth covering her mouth and nostrils, and a strange hospital smell, before she sank into complete unconsciousness.

She came to on an old and filthy mattress in the dark, closed in back of a jolting van. She was dressed (he must have dressed her while she was unconscious) in a schoolgirl's uniform that seemed a couple of sizes too small for her, comprising a short white blouse which showed the tops of her breasts and her midriff and a miniscule tartan kilt. And she was bound hand and foot, her arms lashed neatly together behind her with a rough hemp rope, from above her elbow to her wrists, her thighs secured above the knee by a broad leather belt, her knees sharply bent and her upper torso bowed outwards as the rope which secured her wrists was also securing her ankles. Her bondage was completed by a tight ball gag, rendering her - once more - voiceless.

She lay in a state of fear and confusion for what seemed like hours, drowsy and nauseous from the chloroform, being jolted by the van's motion on what felt like a forest track. She came to abruptly as the van stopped, her senses alert to whatever it was that awaited her.

The doors opened on bright morning sunlight and warm forest smells. Her assailant of the night before, whistling to himself, picked her up easily and slung her over his shoulder like a sack. She could see only the ground they were walking over: then the wooden planks of the porch of whatever habitation it was that she had been brought to: then a well-polished wooden kitchen floor: and a set of steps leading down into a cellar. Her captor dumped her on a narrow old-fashioned iron bed, and set about freeing her limbs.

When he had finished and she was sitting on the bed's edge, rubbing her sore wrists, he pulled up a nearby kitchen chair and sat on it, his arms folded on the back, his chin on his arms, very close to her, his strong blue gaze transfixing her, like a snake with a rabbit. She pulled herself nervously back on the bed, leaning on her arms, aware of the way that the lift of her breasts in that position pulled the white blouse clear of her midriff, exposing her stomach.

'You cannot escape from here,' he said. 'And all you need to know is that you have been chosen, and are here to be trained. By me. You will call me sir at all times. I am being paid a great deal of money to perform this service for certain people, and I do not fail at what I do. By the time you leave here you will be an obedient and willing slave. You will also be in better physical shape than you have ever been before. Do you understand?'

She nodded, dumbly. His cold gaze rested on her. 'This is your first piece of disobedience. I said, you will address me as sir at all times.' Almost before he had finished Cleo found herself blurting out the words - 'Yes, sir, I understand, sir....' 'A little too late, I'm afraid. I shall have to discipline you....'

Cleo, panic-stricken, backed further away from him on the bed but the only thing on the other side of the bed was the whitewashed cellar wall. His whirlwind strength engulfed her again and she was dragged by her wrists and long auburn hair across the cellar to fetch up facing a narrow iron pillar at the center of the large, well lit space. He handcuffed her wrists on the other side of the pillar and lifted them up so high she was dancing on tiptoe, slipping the chain of the handcuffs over a conveniently placed hook. He pulled her ankles forward and handcuffed them together on the other side of the pillar also, so that the metal pole pressed into her, between her thighs, across her flat stomach and between her breasts. A wide leather belt wrapped around her waist and the pillar further constricted her movements.

'You may scream all you like. You will not be heard, except by me, and I rather like the sound....' Her short skirt was lifted and tucked into its waistband at the back, exposing her neat butt to his hands, and whatever other implement he might care to use. She wore only a thong under it, and this he lifted and pulled tight around her hips. Then he came to stand in front of her, and with a strange crooked ironical grin, he slowly unbuttoned the white blouse, pulling it down off her shoulders, leaving it entangled on her arms. She wore no bra, and the metal pillar was cold against the tender skin of her cleavage. A blindfold descended over her eyes. She heard the sound of a drawer being opened, then jumped as his hands began to stroke the very tips of her breasts, around her aureoles, gently. His other hand caressed her plump cunt-lips through the thin constraining material of her thong. The gentleness of his touch, after the harshness of his words, sent a flood of relief through her and she gasped out her gratitude spontaneously, 'Ohhh... thank you sir...'

Cleo was proud of her breasts. They were full, seeming a fraction too large for the slim curvaceousness of her body but pleasingly so: firm and plump, a little tip-tilted, with large brown aureoles. Her nipples were big too. She felt him beginning to tease them, gently plucking them between finger and thumb, at the same time as the fingers at her sex slid under the damp cloth and felt their way, gently, in between her labia. A familiar prickling went through her loins and she moaned and pressed herself against the pillar, careful not to constrict his access to her body, but feeling the yearning begin again, the need to be fucked, hard, as she had been the night before. Her nipples stiffened in his palms and he began masturbating her in earnest, his finger sawing in her salivating passage, whilst slapping the tips of her breasts with two fingers. When her nipples were achingly stiff he stopped: Cleo heard a snick and felt a sharp jab of agony, first in one nipple then in the other. She cried out in pain, feeling a weight pull at two of her most tender places, hearing the clink of a small chain against the pillar.

His voice was low, close to her ear, almost caressing. 'As you are a novice, I will proceed slowly, to introduce you to the first few degrees of pain, which are I assure you only a tiny fraction of what you will routinely accept at my hands before your training is completed.... I will also allow you to contemplate what that might mean, for a while, before I begin....'

With that he left her. She heard his footsteps receding up the cellar steps, heard the snick of the light switch and knew that she was alone, a bound and manacled captive, in the dark.