Chapter 8: Powerless
I can't believe I just masturbated for Coach Marshal's video camera. Oh my God. Have I lost my mind?? Maybe I could have talked myself out of getting in trouble for some of the other stuff, but this is serious. And now I'm handcuffed to his desk for... how long? I don't know. And yet, even though I know the solution he slathered on me this morning has long since evaporated, I am still so aroused. I have an amazing dildo buried in my cunt, but I can't turn it on. This is like torture.
And what just happened is making it worse. The door clicked open. My heart was beating rapidly, and I couldn't even lie to myself that I was afraid. I just wanted it to be Coach Marshal, for him to fuck me.
But it was not Coach Marshal. It was Stan, the janitor, and the first thing I saw was his leer. He must have known I would be here. I couldn't seem to tear my eyes from his face as he slid his eyes over my exposed breasts, my shaved pussy, and the dildo that is lodged there. He stared at the dildo for a little longer than anything else. Then he laughed, and it was a high, nerdy sort of laugh.
He stopped and licked his thin lips. "Well, young lady, it looks like you've gotten yourself into some trouble. You know, girls aren't supposed to masturbate. It's against the rules." He was staring between my legs, his brown eyes riveted to the rubbery toy I can't remove.
I have never been so embarrassed in my entire life. "Stan, it's kind of a long story," I explained lamely.
He didn't even look at my face. "Yeah, sure, princess. Look, Coach Marshal asked me to do him a favor, and I'm gonna do it. You aren't the first girl I've found like this in his room, but you've definitely got the best tits." He lunged forward and massaged them inexpertly, but my pussy clenched in response anyway. I had just resigned myself to being groped when he suddenly stopped and pulled my left nipple taut. I gasped in surprise, and he laughed his nerdy laugh again.
"You like it rough, huh? Well, you'll really like this." From nowhere, he produced a small clamp which he pinched around my nipple. I squeaked in surprise, and he laughed again, a laugh that told me he was enjoying the control he had. Then he did the other nipple. I was so shocked that I didn't even fight against him when Stan removed the handcuffs and dragged me to the table next to the door of Coach Marshal's room. Before I regained my senses, Stan cuffed my arms and legs to the table legs with four sets of handcuffs, wrapping the chains around the table legs until the chains were tight enough that I couldn't move my arms or legs, which were both spread wide.
I felt completely exposed and completely helpless. Anyone who walked in would immediately see my crotch. I squirmed in the chains, trying to get free. Stan laughed at me and reached between my legs to activate the dildo. Surprised by the sudden sensation, I screamed short and sharp. Stan slapped his hand over my mouth, muffling the screams I was continuing to make. The dildo felt amazing. Except it was sliding out. Until Stan grabbed it and pounded it in and out of me, although he didn't do it as hard as Coach Marshal would have. To my embarrassment, Stan brought me to orgasm. This nerdy little guy would never be able to forget that he had made me a captive to pleasure under his ministrations, and his smile told me so.
But it wasn't over yet. He whipped out his cock and with two or three strokes of his hand, he spurted his cum all over my body. I think he was aiming for my tits, but some of it landed on my face and some of it landed on my stomach. He laughed while it flew all over me. And to make it worse, I moaned. The sensation of the hot fluid on my skin was amazing.
Then he left, forgetting to lock the door behind him.
***
I laid on the table for thirty minutes before the door opened again, and to my relief, it was Coach Marshal. But my relief ended when I realized he had his camera with him. He panned across my used, spread-eagled body.
He said, "Why don't you tell me and my camera what happened to you just now."
I knew what he wanted. I swallowed. "Well, sir, Stan found me in your room with the dildo... he tied me up and fucked me with the dildo until I came. Then he jerked off and came all over me." Oh God. It was turning me on to say this in front of the camera. I hope it didn't show.
"And did you like it, Harmony?" he asked maliciously.
I heard myself say, "Yes, sir." YES SIR??? WAS I INSANE???
"And what about those nipple clamps? What do you think of those?" he asked, using his free hand to flick my right nipple. I had a feeling he was zooming in on my tortured breasts.
"They feel good," I moaned, suddenly acutely aware of the pressure there. "I like it rough, and it feels like someone is biting them."
He moved closer and squeezed one breast. I inhaled sharply and squirmed. The pressure was almost too much. Suddenly, he released me. Then he jerked the dildo from between my legs. "You won't be needing this anymore," he commented, tossing it aside. "I'm about to give you the real thing. Do you want me to give you the real thing?"
"Yes," I whimpered. "Just please, fuck me. I want you so much!" I clenched my body in anticipation.
He put the camera on his desk, and I heard his clothes hit the floor. He climbed on the table on top of me, and the warmth and aggression of him poured into me like an aphrodisiac. I moaned in frustration, unable to touch him because of the handcuffs. He dipped his hips low enough to graze my clit with his stiff rod, but it was more teasing than anything.
Then he reached down and captured both of my tits in his massive hands. With the nipple clamps, this actually hurt a lot. But I didn't care. I wanted him to touch me, and I tried to push myself against him. He chuckled softly and released me. Then he unclamped my nipples. I felt the blood rush back, and when he closed his mouth over my right breast, the soft, warm pressure of his lips brought me to orgasm immediately. He knew, because I felt him laughing against me.
And then, in a smooth, fluid motion, he pressed his cock into my aching, clenching pussy. I screamed his name over and over as he pounded into me, struggling to get free of my chains so I could hold him closer. I was begging him not to stop, and he didn't. Not until I came underneath him five times, and he finally jerked one more time before shooting his load into me with a grunt.
Still inside me, he finally breathed, "Harmony, you have been one fucking amazing sex slave. I think I'm going to keep you. Even after I'm finished with you tonight."
I gulped. "You mean, there's more tonight?"
He laughed. "Yeah, there's a lot more tonight. I'll be completely recovered in a half hour or less, so I've got lots of plans for that gorgeous, responsive body of yours."
I felt blind panic. What else was he going to do??
And the panic didn't go away when there was a knock at the door. The next thing I knew, Mr. Jacobs was looming over me, his eyes hungrily devouring my naked, exposed body. And what scared me the most was that some part of me was looking forward to whatever happened next.
I stared at Mr. Jacobs, surprised that his lecherous gaze could raise such a response in me. Okay, he wasn't repulsive, but he was definitely at least 40. He was balding a little, and he wore glasses... not the sexy ones that Mr. Ash wore, but wire-rimmed spectacles. But something about the way he was staring at me made me shiver. He noticed. I could tell by the look of power that crept into his face.