Silen Manacles

Isn't it funny how the most incongruous of details seem to be the ones that linger in memory in times of extreme duress? This idea fluttered through Diane Greer's scattered thoughts as she watched two of her students enter the detention hall. Rumi Sakakura and Eileen Moss appeared right on time. This pleased her.

Having them come in wearing their street clothes and not the grey and black plaid uniforms of the Saint Immaculata School for Girls caused her no end of embarrassment. Couple that with the fact that Eileen's outfit would make Britney Spears consider covering up, and one could understand why Diane’s blood boiled. The two girls took seats in front of the teacher's large oak desk without making a sound. Rumi's eyes looked down, careful to avoid Diane's piercing gaze. Long, white satin ribbons twined through her shiny black hair and held it back, the precise geometric patterning hinting at hours of work. Who did up themselves that much to come to school? Diane looked over at Eileen who, unlike the abashed Rumi, glared right back at her. She saucily challenged Diane's authority.

"You do know that while you're on school property you must wear the proper uniform, do you not, Miss Moss?" Diane's clipped, even voice always made even the most truculent of students take notice and obey.

Not Eileen, though. The petite blonde looked most unimpressed. She gave Diane the barest of shrugs, a gesture that made her pert breasts jiggle in her baby blue halter top. The tight, elasticized material left nothing to the imagination. Every bump on her skin showed through the skintight material. Of course, since the garment had no midriff she revealed more skin than she hid. The Daisy Duke cutoffs revealed an indecent amount of ass and leg. Rumi’s white, skintight catsuit with front zipper at least concealed everything. Diane considered sending the girls out to change, but the detention had already begun. She'd let the matter slide this time.

"Please sit down and be silent. There'll be no talking for the next hour."

Eileen wore a small smile, an expression that touched her lips but never came close to reaching her eyes. Those glittered like twin aquamarines in their sockets.

"We've already taken our seats, Miss Greer," Eileen said. "But you knew that already." Eileen's insolent expression irked her. Diane wouldn't countenance this froward behaviour from a student!

"When I say silence, I mean it, Eileen. There will be no talking here."

Eileen shrugged her bare shoulders. "As you wish," she replied, kicking up her legs on top of the desk. She crossed her heels as she leaned back in her chair.

Although Eileen's had closed her eyes, Diane knew the student lay in wait, trying to get a rise from her. She could feel the tension thrumming in the air. Rumi could sense it as well. An imaginary focal spot on her desk almost smoldered under her fixed stare.

Well, Diane wouldn't give Eileen satisfaction by bringing the matter up. She retrieved her novel ‘Women in Love’ from the top drawer and flicked it open to the page where she'd left off.

On the other side of the teacher's desk, Eileen's Cheshire-toothed smile widened. Rumi sighed. The game had begun.

§§§

Twenty minutes had passed. Twenty long, uncomfortable minutes for Diane. As much as she tried to enjoy her novel she couldn't get into it.

Eileen had embedded a splinter deep within Diane’s flesh, an irritant that would torment her without surcease until she extracted it. Every time Diane peeked over the top of her book, she saw Eileen lounging with her legs crossed on her desk and slim fingers laced over her bare tummy. The girl's cool demeanor annoyed her.

"Something wrong, teach?"

The insolent words struck Diane, sending quivers through her belly like waves around a stone tossed into a placid pool. The words, although whispered, grated in her ears.

"Nothing, Eileen. Please remain quiet, like Rumi."

"You sure nothing’s bothering you, Diane? You look like you really want to say something." Eileen's blue eyes had reopened, and she now stared into Diane's own.

"I won't tell you again –"

"Good, 'cause I've no intention of listening to you." Eileen spread her legs so that her sneaker covered feet hung off of the desktop, her toned calves resting upon on the corners of the wooden surface. A thin strip of denim ran up her crotch. One thing Diane now knew about her irksome student; she shaved her mound.

"Having a good look, teach? You know I wore these pants just for you," Eileen said. "I've been watching you scope me out for over three weeks. You like what you see?" Eileen hands stroked her inner thighs, running long fingernails over her silky skin. "I've been wondering how to approach you, and figured that direct confrontation would be the best in your case."

Diane stared openmouthed, still shocked both by what she heard and what she saw.

"Still unconvinced? I don't blame you. Let me prove that I'm serious, okay?" Eileen slipped the straps of her halter over her shoulders, then pulled down her top. Her firm breasts sprung out, the rosy areolas accenting the cherry stones upon them. Eileen roughly pinched them as she stared at her teacher. Her ass gyrated in her seat. "Did you ever imagine that you'd be sitting there looking at my naked tits? I doubt it." She pulled on her nipples, stretching out her breasts.

"I know you like what you see, Diane. I really get you hot, don't I?" Eileen’s hands mauled her breasts, pinking the pale skin on them. "Wouldn't you like to come over here and touch them?"

"I –" Diane's gaze shot over to Rumi, who hadn't twitched a muscle in over twenty minutes.

"Don't worry about Mouth. She won't say anything."

The name confused Diane. Rumi had to be one of the nicest, most quiet girls she knew. Music appreciation class became a joy because of her. The diminutive Japanese girl had an exceptional ear and a strong love of classical music. Diane loved that about her. Rumi also showed every teacher the respect that they were due, a trait lacking in many of the Occidental students at Immaculata.

"Mouth! Come over here and take care of my clothes," Eileen shouted. Rumi flinched, then slid out of her seat. She demurely approached Eileen from her right-hand side, standing in attendance like a maid did her lady. "Well?" Eileen fumed. "Get busy." A canvas-shod foot reached out, planting itself on the Japanese girl's sternum. Eileen jiggled Rumi's full, well-formed breasts with her toe. Rumi unlaced the running shoe then slipped it off of the girl's foot. The second shoe suffered a similar fate.

"My shorts next, Rumi dear," Eileen said. "Give her a good look at me."

Rumi performed as required, sliding the tattered denim garment down over Eileen's ample curves. The shorts slid effortlessly down the long slopes of her legs, coming to rest at her feet. Eileen stepped out of her pants. She wore no underwear. Except for the halter which clung to her midsection, she stood nude. She pirouetted, turning around in a circle so Diane could drink in the sight of her. And drink she did, she realized with horror. Like a fool without sense she lapped up the wine from the poisoned cup Eileen offered her.

"Now take care of me," Eileen ordered the Japanese girl. "Show her how well you've been trained."

Eileen strode over to the teacher's desk and lay upon it, her breasts mere inches from Diane's lips. She gazed downwards upon her luscious form, knowing it to be a meal she dare not partake of.

"Hungry?" Eileen asked coquettishly.

In the meantime, Rumi had begun sucking the blonde's toes, splaying them apart, and running her tongue between each one. Her pink tongue bathed each petite digit in copious amounts of saliva, then she sucked each one into her mouth like a miniature cock. She gave them the same loving care with which a woman would take care of her man's penis. Each received meticulous attention. Eileen ignored the girl and her efforts.

"How long has it been for you, teach? I know how frustrated you old women get without regular servicing. How long since you tasted another woman's cunt?"

Diane didn't know how to answer. Her mouth opened and closed without sound, like a fish suddenly beached.

"Never," she whispered, the word slipping unbidden from between lips that snapped shut much too late.

"You're kidding me. You're a virgin dyke?" Eileen reached out a hand and stroked Diane’s back with a firm hand. The teacher melted under her caress.

"Wow. You really are. Nice! Hurry up," Eileen snapped to the Oriental girl who still worked over her feet. Eileen struck Rumi's cheek with the ball of her foot, making a loud smack. Rumi left her previous task and slid her mouth up the arch and over the heel, continuing up the long, rounded calf.

"Faster, I said!" Eileen grabbed Rumi by the top of her head and jammed her face into her pussy. Rumi fed there, wrapping long fingers behind Eileen's buttocks while she pressed her face hard against her mound.

"That's it, Mouth, suck me." Eileen's low voice smoldered, but held no genuine human warmth. She accepted the Asian girl's efforts as her due, nothing more. "I bet you wish you were me right now, don't you Diane?"

"Miss Greer," she said in a wavering voice, struggling to hold onto the last vestiges of her tattered authority.

"Miss Greer, hmm? How about Gash? What if I call you that from now on? I bet your pussy is leaking juice right now, isn't it?"

Eileen's hand flashed out, grabbing her by the right breast. Sharp, unpainted nails dug deep into the tender flesh, then twisted. Diane shrieked in surprise and pain.

"Answer me when I speak to you, Gash. You're wet, aren't you?"

"Yes." Diane wanted to die, humiliated by the girl’s perceptiveness. Her pussy had gone into production the moment the two sexy girls had entered the detention room.

"That's better. Tell me what you want, and you might just get it," she said. Laughter filled her voice, the joy that one feels only at the expense of another human being, and not from any true feelings of levity. "Harder," Eileen ordered, pressing Rumi's face down against her crotch. "Suck me like you mean it, Mouth."

"You want to know what this feels like, don't you?" Eileen said as she rubbed Rumi's shoulders, stroking the girl as one would a dog as she munched on Eileen’s sodden pussy. "Mouth's quite talented, believe me. A much better pussy eater than I am. I wouldn't be adverse to seeing her help you out a bit, teach."

"No Eileen," Rumi protested. The Japanese girl had raised her face, her slight pouty lips and full round cheeks glazed with female spend and saliva. "You can't just lend me out to anyone you wish."

"I can and will, Sweetness," Eileen replied. And just for that outburst, it won't be her cunt you'll be tasting. Gash, lay upon your desk face down, and spread those legs wide!"

What did she mean to do? Whatever she intended, Diane didn't mean to comply. She stared defiance back at the blonde temptress.

"A challenge, is that it? I don't think you want to push me, Gash. Bad things happen to those who fuck around with me. Ask Miss Brennan if you don't believe me."

Jackie Brennan had left Immaculata late in the school year. She'd been raped in her classroom after hours. Diane had seen police photos of the woman, with her blackened eyes, split lip and the myriad of ugly bruises that marred her flesh. Jackie had refused to go to the police, then had refused to cooperate with the authorities after the school brought in detectives against her wishes. Instead, she had tendered her resignation and left the institution for good. Diane's eyes widened.

"So you finally understand, eh? Jackie didn't think I deserved to pass Calculus. I had some of my boys ask her to reconsider. That bitch was a real screamer, let me tell you." A sadistic glint lit up her eyes, an excitement that had been missing even while experiencing Rumi's excellent tongue work. Eileen undid the small, dainty buttons that dotted the front of Diane's white cotton blouse. The blonde's dexterous fingers made short work of the garment. Eileen pulled the shirt open, then unclipped the practical white bra from the center. Diane's pale breasts sprung out, her coral coloured areolas tipped by turgid brown nipples the thickness of a fingertip.

Eileen rubbed the bra between her fingers, then wiped them upon Diane's blouse with an exaggerated motion as if soiled. "Pretty ratty brassiere, Gash. Doesn't Immaculata pay better than that? Buy yourself some new things."

Immaculata paid fair wages but Diane still had to pay her leech of an ex-husband’s bills, the only thing she’d come away with from their divorce. A fair salary quickly dwindled to nothing when various creditors all siphoned off a bit of it before she even saw the money. Diane could just afford to pay her bills and eat with the remainder. She covered her breasts in shame, both from the nakedness, and from her financial difficulties that the sad state of her undergarments revealed.

"Did I say to stop?" Eileen said as she struck Rumi between her shoulder blades with the yardstick Diane had upon her desk. "Don't do so unless I order you." Rumi whimpered into Eileen's pussy.

"Now flip over, Gash. I won't ask you again." Eileen rose, pushing Rumi aside with a palm to the side of her head as she grabbed Diane by the hair and hauled her forwards. Diane clambered on top of the desk, her bare breasts cold against the chill wooden surface. Eileen had imparted no warmth to the dark stained wood, as if she were a reptile sunning herself on the rocks.

Diane had her shirt and bra peeled off of her and her dark grey, full-length skirt rolled up to her waist. Her bottom peered up at Eileen, who licked her lips in hunger and anticipation.

"Oh, Gash, very nice! You're pretty fit for your age. I like the way your pubes curl around your panties." A feather-light touch teased the curly strands that poked up along the sides of the white cotton panty like sprigs of heather on the heath. Without warning, Eileen pulled up the hem of the French cut briefs, lodging the crotch deep into Diane's puffy mound and her ass crack. Diane gasped in surprise.

"You love this, don't you? You're making a puddle on your desk. Look at you!" Eileen daubed her fingertips into the seepage, swirling it around in fancy curlicues like a child finger painting. She brought the musk scented, glistening dew over to Diane's face, holding it just under her nose. Diane shied away from it as if she held a blowtorch. No, the sexual heat radiating from Eileen would make a torch feel cold in comparison.

"Where you going, Gash?" Eileen grabbed a handful of Diane’s black curly hair and yanked her head to the side. Green, scared eyes met blue pitiless gemstones. "I don't think you're going anywhere too soon. Not until I finish with you." Eileen's face neared Diane's, the girl's fragrance inundating Diane's senses. She smelled of sandalwood and vanilla. Diane found her head craning upwards, searching for the lovely scent. Eileen looked startled for a split-second before seizing the reins of control once more. Diane's scalp felt like it would split as Eileen twisted her fist, pulling her hair even more than before. Diane gasped in the pain she felt.

Eileen jammed her fingers into Diane's open mouth, rolling them around her tongue like a dollop of butter on a hot skillet. She tasted butter-sweet, the rich, familiar taste of her sexual spend a long savoured delight. Diane moaned around Eileen's hand. Her nipples stood right out, so long and hard that her tits itched.

"You do like this, don't you? That's nice to know. Show me how much you like it." Eileen worked her two fingers in and out of her newfound Gash, Diane sucking at them as she would a man's penis. Her tongue danced crazily around the hand, trying in vain to pry the two fingers apart. Her strong tongue couldn't insinuate itself between Eileen's probing fingers. Those thrusting digits pressed against her tongue, stimulating saliva production. The warm fluids seeped out of her mouth and down her chin with excruciating slowness. Diane dripped from both of her orifices, the clear magma identical looking at either end. Both her pussy and her mouth felt aflame.

Diane felt her drawers being rolled down, the plain cotton briefs sliding over her plump, long legs. Rumi pushed a short, foot long ruler through the leg holes and spun it around to make a crude tourniquet capable of lashing Diane’s legs together at the ankles. Thus bound, Diane felt almost obliged to enjoy her tormentor's ministrations. Rumi pulled Diane’s arms behind her, tying them tightly together with the satin ribbons from her hair. Manacles of niveous silk held Diane captive.

Eileen clambered on to the desk, sliding her lithe legs to either side of Diane's head as she nestled the tousled head snugly between her powerful thighs. Diane felt a moment's confusion as her sense of hearing died, stripped from her by the soft, steely flesh that pressed inwards upon her ears. The silken vice tightened even more.

Then, without warning, Eileen felt warm breath stir the fine hairs around her asshole as her ass cheeks separated. She struggled in vain to free herself. Eileen held her in check without effort, the angler keeping her twitching fish on its baited hook with the ease of long experience. Diane clamped shut her eyes, seeking to hide her humiliation by cutting off her vision.

She felt hot, damp breath upon her intimate rear crevice, the halcyon wind stirring the fine hairs that lay nestled in her nether valley. Those questing hairs received constant stroking, sending Diane into a near delirious state. Hot tears crept out from between imperfectly sealed eyelids, splattering against her desk along with her own sweet lubrication. For, even now, her melliferous pussy hadn't stopped producing its honey.

Warmth suffused her entire being, intense heat that must blister her flesh. Diane flexed her legs, tensing them within her bonds. Her ass cheeks tightened, the globular buns contending with the insistent hands that sought to keep her rear spread and vulnerable.

Eileen crept closer, sliding closer to Diane. She'd loosened her clenching thighs just enough to reposition the captured woman's head, whose neck craned upwards until less than an inch separated her face from the blonde's puffy pussy lips. The girl had a heavy cloying scent, like a cheaply perfumed whore in a packed elevator. The sharp scent repulsed her. Diane tried to pull backwards, an endeavor that only resulted in the thigh-trap tightening and the hands at her rear sinking strong fingers into her spongy bottom.

Her ass cheeks parted, more insistent than before, and hot wetness sluiced down the opening. Diane hissed in surprise.

"Gash, you gotta learn to be quiet. You're going to get all of us in the shit. Then again, Mouth will be in the shit within a few seconds anyway." Eileen barked at her own crude humor, tightening her thighs even more. Diane looked upon the well used pussy in front of her. She had dreamed of this, being in front of the lovely, willing woman, desiring nothing more than to dive in and sate herself upon that which Eileen offered her. But never before had she imagined that a vagina so young could look so abused. Its inner lips were long and distended, coloured a deep, rippled brown. Her inner depths shone pink, but not the healthy fresh pink of an apple blossom, but the darker, burnt umber of the withering rose perishing with agonizing slowness within its vase. Diane scrunched shut her eyes, refusing to gaze upon the repugnant flesh of the blonde eighteen year old temptress.

An iron bar plumbed deep within her rectum, a glowing, hot member fresh from the forge fire. It violated her heretofore unexplored backside, striking deep within her bowels. It pried open both of her sphincter muscles, entering her depths without resistance. Never before had she experienced anything like this. Diane squealed, the undignified noise echoing throughout the small room.