An Education

"Oh, no! ... please ... no ... no ..."

"Now, now, Helena ... you've been a bad girl. And you know what happens to bad girls, don't you?"

"No! No! ... Nooo ..."

Silence, as the nineteen year old contemplated her situation.

"Helena ...?"

She was bound hand and foot with thick, soft ropes. While they did not bite into her soft (some might say "pudgy") flesh, she was completely immobile and suspended three and a half feet above the ground. The rope affixing her to the ceiling of the makeshift dungeon allowed her tormentors to swing her around with just the slightest touch. Even that would not have been so bad except that the three men had taken off her clothes before binding and suspending her.

The young woman had been unconscious when they brought her in. She awoke bewildered and stunned though she found her voice soon enough. Fairly howled she did! Demanded to be set free immediately and threatened her captors with vengeance of the most gruesome kind! One of the men remarked with surprise that she didn't appear to be the type to think let alone say such things!

"Ah, well," said one of the others, a man called Dick, "that only goes to show you: she's thinks she is in a position of privilege based solely upon her gender and her affluence." That statement had elicited a hearty laugh from all three.

Helena Fenton had been brought there only two days before. It was easy to get the young woman to let down her guard. The three had set up a perfect replica of a television news van complete with one of the men acting as cameraman and a rather attractive young woman confederate acting as interviewer. They had politely stopped her on the street, asking for her opinion of the police response to the public safety concerns of young women in the area. There had been a spate of "touchings" as they called it; more odd than actually threatening. (Helena and her ilk called them "rapes.") A masked and hooded figure had been recently darting from between parked cars or from alleyways to reach out and touch the noses of female pedestrians and vanishing as quickly and as mysteriously as he/she appeared.

No damage had been done in any of the 11 cases to date but it had left the local populace feeling unsettled and somewhat intruded upon. The rather upscale suburb of London felt affronted by such behavior and demanded that it be stopped.

Unable to resist the opportunity to "sound off" on what she thought was a thoroughly deplorable situation, Helena reacted with the expected indignation.

"I think it's a disgrace that girls cannot walk about in the evening without fear of being molested!"

No sooner were the words out of her mouth when someone put a hood over her head and shoved her into the back of the van. As the van was completely soundproofed, no one on that warm spring afternoon casually strolling on either side of the street noticed either her broad daylight abduction or heard her desperate screams for help.

"Now, Helena ... we've been over this before, haven't we?"

"Oh, god!" she moaned weakly. "Oh, god; please help me! Help me!"

But of course, her imaginary celestial friend did not offer any assistance. Like Harvey the Rabbit, he existed only in the caverns of her confused little mind.

She sobbed pitiably as the lubricant was applied to her reddened and sore anus. (Her captors thought her a trifle ungrateful: they never neglected to warm the gooey stuff before smearing it into the space between her butt cheeks.) Upon hearing the unbuckling of the men's belts she became even more despondent.

From the very beginning of her captivity, her "gaolers" had concerned themselves with her arsehole and rectum. First, she had been given an enema and suspended over a toilet as her bowels burst. After a reasonable interval, she felt warm water flowing over her buttocks and then warm air drying them. It was not more than 10 minutes after her "back door" was dry that her worst fears were confirmed.

The three masked men introduced themselves as "Tom," Dick," and "Harry," smirking behind their masques as Tom said, "Just like any ordinary bloke you'd meet in the street ... pass by without notice." The three laughed together. Then Harry said, in an unpleasant tone of voice, "And treat like dirt under your feet when it suited you, I'll reckon!"

"Right, you are!" said, Dick.

"Here! Here!" grunted Tom. "Damned straight!"

This was followed by more laughter.

Helena started to protest loudly and to threaten.

"How dare you! You'll be sorry, you will! Just you wait! I'll see you all in prison!"

The laughing stopped and there was silence, a rather ominous quiet it must be said.

Dick stage whispered into her ear.

"Here, now ... you're not in a position to make any sort of threat now are you? Seems to me, missy, that you're in a terrible fix. Isn't she boys?"

The men muttered their agreement.

"Not helpful to act so high and mighty, if I may be so bold as to suggest."

Harry then added, impatiently, "Right; let's get to it, shall we? We have a schedule to meet."

More guffaws. Then came the lubricant and then the men each took a turn inserting a relatively thin plastic dildo into, and out of, Helena's arsehole. Although it didn't really hurt, the girl screamed, over and over at the violation. Her screams were followed by pleas, then threats, then more pleas; all to no avail.

The men seemed to pay it no mind at all. The girl was not blindfolded as one might have suspected. The men felt the masques were all they needed to maintain their anonymity. Helena, thinking herself the clever girl, concentrated on remembering their voices by closing her eyes and listening intently, the better to identify them once she was freed, which she believed would be soon. Everyone would miss her and they would turn London upside down to find her. Why, her disappearance was likely on the front page of the Sun at that very moment.

Helena might have been severely disheartened at that moment to know that no one missed her at all. Her home answering machine and mobile phone messages had been programmed to say she was off to Spain for a fortnight of "peace and quiet ... no cell phones, no telly ..." with some special "friends" and would tell all when she got back. She would have been very distressed to learn how easily they were able to reproduce her voice. Employing the same skill, they were able to disguise their own, having inserted soft rubber appliances to their gums.

After an hour of this prodding, Helena was left alone for 30 minutes. She was given water and a perfunctory tidying up of her bum. When they returned, and once more gave her bottom their attention, Helena became even more alarmed.

"Oww ... oww! What are you doing?! Stop! Stop!"

The circumference of the phallus had doubled and the poor girl was feeling it in those delicate, soft tissues that were so rich in nerve endings.

"Oww ...! Please ... please stop! Why are you doing this to me?!"

Dick, who was at that moment thrusting the dildo into her anus, stopped. He addressed her with a menacing tone not previously in evidence.

"Why?! You ask, 'why,' you little bitch?!"

He walked around to the face her, and holding her chin in his hand and squeezing her cheeks, said, "I'll tell you 'why.' It's because you are a nasty, selfish little girl. And you must be taught a lesson. You and your type think you can just wiggle your little arse at a man with no cost to yourself. You parade yourselves in the streets as provocatively as the law allows and then are bloody indignant when some poor bastard notices."

He shook her face and squeezed harder.

"Oww ..bat hoorts!" she cried through distorted lips.

"And then you all get together and talk about how oppressed you all are. That men are raping you with their eyes and such like."

He released her, pushing roughly and causing her to spin.

He stopped her revolutions by taking hold of her hair.

"Oww ... oooh!"

"So, little missy, the dildoes are a 'warm up,' so to speak. We are getting your arsehole ready for the real thing!"

The terrified girl's eyes were now big as saucers.

Tom added, "Yes, you'll soon find out what it means to really be raped!" His statement elicited peals of harsh laughter from his mates. Helena started to sob.

"Ahh ... that's it!"

The man known as "Dick" had just finished climaxing in the bound girl's arsehole. It was the sixth day and Helena's rectum was being plundered with regularity. Each of the men was fairly well endowed and the helpless girl felt every inch of their members as they drove deep into her "back door." She was sodomized as often as they could manage.

Twice a day, for an hour each time, she was released and exercised, though manacled and blindfolded. She was fed regularly and well. In contrast to the treatment to which she was subjected, her surroundings might almost have been described as luxurious.

The lights were soft and the music soothing. She noted there were reproductions of famous paintings on the walls. (She would have been shocked to learn that they were originals and works she saw at the National Gallery were the reproductions!) In fact, she had no complaint of her treatment except for the constant buggering. Even her vagina had not been breached, which surprised her.

Helena was sure they weren't going to kill her. No, they made it clear that they wanted her to live with the humiliation evoked by her treatment, the painful memories of her helplessness, to reminisce about the powerlessness that she now feeling so keenly. "Harry" had said as much to her one evening when the others had gone. He spoke gently to her but all the while letting her know who had the upper hand.

"You really do need to learn a lesson, you know."

She replied to this, inquiring about just what he meant by that statement.

"Why do you keep saying that? What have I done to hurt anyone?"

Harry considered a moment before replying.

"You may not even remember this incident but a while back you castigated a fellow on Facebook for saying he liked your pictures. He was complimenting you and you rounded on him."

Helena did, indeed remember. 'Omigod! Is that what this is about?' she thought.

"Are you he?" she asked in a small voice. "Because if you are, I'm sorry ... truly sorry for saying what I said."

Harry laughed, not at all menacingly, and said, "Gracious, no! We were told about this from a source close to us that monitors such things on the Internet. Oh, no; none of us is that fellow, the erotic writer." He went on to explain about changing her messages and that, as a result, no one would be looking for her.

Astonished, Helena was silent for moment, as if she were thinking hard about something. After a bit, she said, anguished and somewhat chastened, "Was that so bad? I mean, was it so awful that I should be subjected to this?"

Harry stood in front of the floating girl, looking intently at her before extracting a silk bandana from his pocket. He gently blindfolded the captive, nude girl and stroked her hair with his right hand. He removed his masque then astonished the creature by softly kissing her lips. Helena started, not out of fear but only because she had not anticipated such tenderness. He then placed his forehead against hers and once again ran his fingers through her hair.

'I must look a fright,' Helena thought, caring about the state of her appearance for the first time since she had been abducted 12 days before. That thought surprised her, but not as much as the next words out of "Harry's" mouth.

"I've watched you ever since I noticed you on Facebook. I thought you were lovely. You were not perfect; no, you are a little chubby, to be frank!"

This caused Helena to redden but also to giggle softly but audibly, knowing it was true.

"I didn't care. I thought you were lovely.

"But I was thoroughly dismayed, however, at the cruelties you and your girlfriends perpetrated upon other girls, less pretty, and boys that you did not fancy. It made me upset."

Before she could ask how he knew all this, he said, "I made it my business to observe you and your friends. Although I must admit to being smitten by you early on, I grew angrier by the day. You disappointed me. You were rude and haughty; two things I cannot abide and that no one should endure."

Harry paused and then said, "I was most displeased by what you did to Gerald Anson."

'Omigod! Gerald!' she thought guiltily. She let her head drop in shame at the remembrance.

"You remember him, then? That's good. If you hadn't, it would have marked you as beyond redemption. That shy, harmless boy who was so in love with you your last year in school ..."

Gerald was a quiet, studious boy with thick glasses. He was no good in sports and games and had a bit of a stammer. Quite by accident, Helena's friend Jenny Millbury, found a passage that Gerald had written in his copybook professing his love for Helena. He was quite effusive, she remembered, in his praise of her, eloquent, too, sounding very much like Robert Herrick to his coy mistress. If she had found it, and not Jenny, she might have been at least a little bit flattered. Not that she would have approached Gerald! Heavens no! What would that have done to her social standing?

"Yes, Gerald Anson ... what became of Gerald, Helena?"

Helena and her friends taunted the boy publicly with the knowledge of his affection, humiliated him, really, in front of their whole class that day just before Ms. Jespersen, their teacher, arrived to begin class. Gerald sat in his usual place in the back row but with his head down.

"I ... I don't ... know ..."

Gerald did not return to school the next day. It was in the newspapers the next evening that he had tried to drown himself. It was lucky for him (and for Helena) that a policeman had seen him in time and dragged him from the canal. Gerald had been hospitalized and subsequently transferred to a public school somewhere in the country.

"Oh, I think you do know what happened to Gerald."

Three months later the boy was struck and badly injured crossing a street in the East End of London. What he was doing there, no one could tell. An accident, it was ruled; but was it really? The boy was crippled as a result and rarely left his home.

Helena started to cry. Her sobs were long and heart-rending. Not the crying born of indignation or fear as before, but of real sorrow, of helplessness, of a desire to change what could not be changed.

"Oh, Gerald ... oh, god ... oh, god ..."

Harry straightened up, turned, and left the chamber. He could hear her weeping all the way down the long hall to the antechamber of the estate's sub-basement.

The next morning when Helena awoke, she found herself in a bed with clean fresh linen in a sunlit room. A bird was singing outside her window. It was as peaceful a setting as one could imagine, the kind that could make you forget where you had been the night before or what you had been doing.

Helena sat up in bed with a start. Where was she? Where were her tormentors? Had she dreamed it? She got up and moved around the room, looked out the window. The soreness of her anus told her that her ordeal had not been imagined. What day was it? The newspaper that had been slipped under her door said it was Sunday, the 17th. It had been almost two weeks since she had been abducted.

Then her eye was caught by the white envelope on the nightstand. It was addressed to her. She opened it and read it.

Dear Helena

We're not under any illusions that you might have in any way enjoyed your stay with us. We do hope, however, that it's been instructive. The most effective education is that which is painful. (Of which you no doubt will be reminded each time you sit down over the next week or so!)

We did feel however, that you were remorseful when reminded of the people you disdained and whom you injured with your exaggerated sense of privilege and superiority. Your tears seemed real enough to us to suggest you were a changed person. Maybe you are; maybe you aren't. We're giving you the benefit of the doubt.

In contrast to the contempt in which we initially held you, we wish you well. And we hope you will never again exhibit the kind of behavior for which you have been justly punished.

As an indicator of whether or not you have really changed, you now have a decision to make. You can take the car waiting for you outside to the nearest police station to report your abduction and treatment or you can take it to the address written on the small slip of paper in this envelope. The choice is yours.

Sincerely,

Tom, Dick, and Harry

"I've been instructed to take you wherever you wish miss."

Helena stood outside the little inn from which she emerged on that sunny morning. She had been greeted by a chauffeur in a uniform and cap. Her clothes had been cleaned and pressed and the innkeeper brought her breakfast.

The driver lifted her suitcase, placing it in the boot. She stepped into the back seat and sat down gingerly. After the driver took his position behind the wheel, Helena leaned forward to hand him a slip of paper. "Please take me to that address; it's in the West End."

Using the car's global positioning system, the driver entered the street number. The slip of paper she'd handed him said it was the home of a family by the name of Anson.

The End-