A single, uncovered red light bulb hung precariously from an extension cord that had been duct-taped to the ceiling in the middle of the basement, providing the only source of illumination in the make-shift dungeon that had been his coven for the past three days. He was still disoriented from the pain, pain that permeated every cell, muscle, and sinew in his body. With his arms still securely tied behind his back, it was actually the pain of hunger that roused him from his unconscious state.Tempted to call out, to ask for help, to request nourishment, John knew better than to do anything that might stir the wrath of his Mistress. His throat was sore, his voice weak from having his mouth savagely fucked by both dildos and cocks, all relentless in their efforts to leave his throat and jaw aching. Load after load of hot cum had been deposited inside him from both ends. Salvation came in the form of the click of his Mistress' heels against the exposed floor. John was too weak to lift his. I tried to focus my thoughts onwhat she was saying rather than her foot. I struggled not to stare as she told me if there were a wayto earn extra credit for the class, because she didn't think she'd pass this semester. It would hold herback at least a year since that particular class was only held in the spring.I told her that it was impossible, since the grades had to be submitted at 6:00 that evening. I looked atmy grade book and noticed she was already passing with a C. Barely, but passing nonetheless. But Idecided to be naughty."You're right." I said, "You're getting a D. You'll have to repeat the class next year." "Please. Is thereanything I can do to pass?" My heart started beating quickly at these last words. They were aprofessor's wet dream. Naughty ideas popped into my head. She looked disappointed, so I asked tosit on the couch with me. Debbie began looking suspicious. "I don't need the grade that bad." I askedher if I could massage her feet. She thought about it for a.
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