The Illustrated Teacher
Part 6

He didn't loose his grasp on her neck as he opened the front door, or as he took hold of the collar of her coat and tugged it off her back. Nor did he release her as he marched her up the stairs, pulling the collar of her shirt as he did with her coat. But her shirt was buttoned and only came off once the buttons had popped and pattered to the floor. At the landing, he yanked at her bra until the clasp gave and she clutched it to her chest.

"Drop it," he ordered, pushing her up the second flight of stairs.

"Andrew," she whimpered.

'DROP IT!"

She let it go, it slid off her arms and onto the floor of the second landing.

Opening the door to the room, he pushed her through it and straight up against the cross. One at a time, he pulled her arms upwards and snapped the leather manacles into place. The metal parts were cold and stung her skin.

"Andrew, please..."

She felt him reach around her waist and roughly unbutton her jeans, jerking them, and her panties off her hips, and around her legs, before pulling them off, taking her shoes with them.

"You want me to stop, Sophia? Then say so."

Pulling one of her ankles sideways and back, she felt something cold surround it and heard him pull the restraint snug. "Well?"

"Andrew," she whispered.

When he grabbed the other ankle, she lost her balance and dangled from her wrists. Her arms and shoulders screamed at the extension and she gasped.

"Say no and I'll stop, Sophia."

The snick of the buckle on the last ankle restraint had the sound of finality. She wasn't quite upright anymore. The frame was slightly angled and so, even when she got her footing back, a good portion of her weight still hung from her wrists.

She heard him stand up behind her and she shivered as he slid his hands over the sides of her body. At her waist, he reached in front of her; she looked down to see him take the ends of a belt, attached to the cross. He drew the straps around her waist and secured her tightly.

"Now," he said, pressing his clothed body against her skin. "You'll never guess what this is called, Sophia."

His hands raked the sides of her torso. It made her tense her muscles, the inside of her thighs ached at the extension. "It's called a Saint Andrew's Cross."

He stepped away from her and she heard the rustling of fabric, and then the sound of a zip being pulled. Plastic crinkling and tearing. Andrew grunted and stepped behind her again. He was fully clothed still, but the warm latex of his sheathed his cock grazed her buttock and slid between her open thighs. "Ironic, don't you think?

He positioned himself and pushed the head of his cock into her. She wasn't ready, not at all, and despite the lubrication on the condom, it hurt as he thrust upwards, embedding himself.

"I'm not...I'm not wet." She gasped.

His hand circled her throat, under her jaw and he pressed his mouth against her cheek, just by her ear and began to fuck her. "You will be soon."

At first, she didn't make a sound. With every thrust, the hardware on the cross jingled, and Andrew expelled a harsh breath; Sophia's feet lifted off the ground and there was respite from the strain to her arms. Every thrust crushed her breasts against the frame, and she felt the press of the wool of his trousers on the hypersensitive skin of her ass. She could still feel the rawness of where he'd hit her the day before.

It was as he said; his slow, deep thrusts coaxed moisture from her, and they became smoother and more fluid. A small moan escaped her lips.

"Is this what you wanted, Sophia? Is it the way you thought it would be?" He pulled his cock out of her slowly and then slid in hard.

"Yes."

He did it again and her cunt spasmed around him in response.

"Why didn't you just ask for it, then. Why did you feel the need to drag the whole neighborhood into it?

"I... I don't know," she moaned.

She felt his hand move to her mouth. Two fingers pushed between her lips.

"I'll tell you why. You think what you want is wrong."

Her lips closed around his fingers and she moaned, louder, as he sank into her cunt again.

"You don't want anyone to know what a little slut you are," he whispered. His voice scratched at her mind, harsh and corrosive. "You couldn't bear for anyone to know how much you want to be used like this."

The words etched away layers of resistance. Her pussy was throbbing now. The thrusts began to send shrieking messages to her brain that any minute, any moment she would explode. She couldn't answer him. Instead she whimpered around his fingers and sucked at them as if something on them, in them, was going to stop her from dying.

"But you like it, don't you?"

The muscles in her legs quivered and she arched her back, tilting her hips to allow more of him inside.

"Cock whore," he whispered.

And she came with a violence that made her scream, as if the words had unlocked some dark, shuttered place and the pleasure that streamed out was overwhelming, more than she could stand.

He fucked her through the contractions of her orgasm and past them, until she was gasping and every nerve in her body was a siren.

"Again," he said. He was panting now. His voice was thick with pleasure.

"I can't."

"Can't, or won't?"

She was about to yell that, no, no, she couldn't, until she felt her cunt began to flutter again, and her body twitched.

"My god," she gasped.

"Mmm. Good girl. Come on me again."

"Oh, fuck."

This time it was different. His cock felt huge, like it would break her apart from the inside. Andrew groaned as she began to come. He almost stopped moving; nudging her cervix with his tip over and over, buried in her depths. The pleasure shot up her spine and emerged from her mouth in a strange, bestial cry.

His cock twitched hard, twice, and he bit into the soft flesh between her neck and her shoulder, groaning. Even through the latex, she felt him emptying himself.

Andrew pulled away, and stepped back, still breathing hard. Sophia heard him as he pulled the sheath off. She craned her neck to look around but only saw his reflection in the mirror. He was sitting on the floor, looking up at her.

"Andrew?"

"Mmm?"

"Can you let me down, please?"

"In a moment, Sophia."

"Why?"

"You should see yourself. You look beautiful."

"I do?" she asked, incredulous.

"Yes." He leaned back on his elbows and smiled. "You looked so thoroughly fucked. There's cum all the way down the inside of your thighs. Your whole body is flushed. You look absolutely radiant."

 

My primary motivation for posting my work online is to maintain a relationship with my readers.
This means, if I don't get any feedback, I won't be nearly as motivated to make my writing public.
Please keep this in mind before you "read and leave"