Susan Mitchell's living conditions at West Valley Academy worsened over the weekend. Instead of being sent to the infirmary as she had hoped, where the school nurse would tend to her aching body, or even to the small dorm room she had occupied for months, she was instead taken to a new, even smaller room. This tiny cement block room on the first floor of Senior House looked like it has once been a janitor's closet or store room that had now been turned into a jail cell for Headmaster Stephen Krutz' star pupil. There was a toilet in one corner of the room and in the other corner, a shower head hanging from a pipe affixed to the concrete wall. The door of the room had been replaced with a heavy steel door with a small sliding slot, which was currently locked. Susan thought the room looked like the solitary confinement chambers she had seen in prison movies and she realized that was what this was.
Susan's brief respites of trips to the girls' bathroom to shower or to the cafeteria to eat with her friends were things of the past. The woman was brought food and water via the slot in the door. There was now no opportunity for her friends to visit her, not that she had seen much of them lately anyway. She was very worried about her best friend Brittany. She hadn't seen Brit all week and feared Krutz had done something bad to her. Susan had way too much time to think alone in her new cell, and she knew that was a bad thing. Krutz was in her head too much already and she had to keep him at bay if she was going to survive.
The cell door clicked open Monday morning. There was a plate of food sitting outside along with a note. She ate the breakfast quickly and read her instructions. Susan turned on the shower, taking advantage of a razor that had been placed on the tray to shave her legs, armpits and pussy. If she was going to be a sex slave on camera, she wanted to look at least a little presentable, if only for a few hours. She applied a little of the makeup she had been given by Mistress Jennifer and slowly made her way to the Industrial Arts classroom, site of several of her abuses this year.
Susan prayed the lecherous shop teacher would not be there today as she had no desire to be forced to have sex with the old man again. She realized she had not seen him in a long time and hoped he had died. Susan doubted she would be that lucky.
Upon arrival in the classroom, Susan saw a wooden platform that had been constructed on the concrete floor and various lengths of black metal poles stacked nearby. A group of industrial arts students were huddled around a workbench working on some drawings while two students were attaching several pipe flanges to the wooden platform. A short length of metal pole was screwed into one of the fittings in the middle of the space. Susan cringed when one of the boys mounted a thick pink dildo to the top of the pole. "So, it's another day of that," Susan thought to herself. Her pussy was still raw and swollen from repeated attacks by mechanical dildos last week, not to mention a Friday morning spent being screwed by half the senior boys in the men's locker room.
"Hey, Susie," the boy said as he saw her enter. "We have these art projects we are supposed to be working on, using metal pipes. They are supposed to be part of our final portfolio and the headmaster suggested we get you to help us. You don't mind, do you?"
Susan thought about it for a minute. Of course, she did mind, but with the headmaster having complete control over her, she didn't really have an option. Refusing to help would only lead to worse torture. Maybe the students' ideas would be less sadistic than those of Stephen Krutz, although the dildo was not convincing her of that. Anyway, Susan nodded to the boy and he said, "Ok, Why don't you come over here?" Susan walked over and the boy asked her to squat over the dildo. He positioned the impaler against the girl's cleanly shaved pussy and she slowly lowered herself onto her knees until the device was buried deep in her vagina.
