Rachel's ReEducation

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Sweet Dreams

After Professor McEvers and Rachel’s fellow students had teased and pleased her, used and abused her, over and over, mercilessly, the poor excitable girl dreamed all night long, wildly, vividly.

In one dream she finally had been given her first teaching assignment, an undergraduate class in Intro Psych. Yet when she stood on the stage of the great lecture hall, suddenly she could not remember her lesson plan, and as she squirmed there uncertainly before two hundred pairs of skeptical eyes, when some sneering boy raised his hand and asked a question, she could do nothing but sputter uncertainly.

“If you don’t know the answer,” the superior little snot told her smugly, “then we get to stick our fingers in your pussy.” Though Rachel protested red-faced, other students backed him up matter-of-factly, referring to a clearly spelled-out clause in the syllabus, and soon it seemed there was nothing she could do but lie back, pull up her skirt and expose herself so that the long, long line of men and women starting to come down the center aisle could do whatever they wanted to her between her bare, raised thighs.

“Hey, look, there’s a bunch of c*m in here!” laughed the first boy as he stuck a pair of blunt fingertips without any warning straight down into the bottom of her open womb. Rachel goggled confusedly beneath him, spread-legged and obedient as he dug around so nonchalantly within her most private places, but somehow it was true. When he raised his glistening digits in triumph for all to see, they dripped embarrassingly with the clingy sour strings of some unknown lovers’ semen. “Man, she must have gotten f****d just a couple minutes ago,” he exclaimed, “and there’s like six or eight c***s’ worth of jizz inside of her already! Wow, what a slut! This slinky little black-haired b***h must really have wanted us to see this—come on, everybody, check it out!”

Everyone laughed, and they crowded around and groped her all at once, men and women alike. At first Rachel tried to plead with them to stop, but no one listened. It was no use, she realized. She as their instructor had told them to do all of the textbook readings, and she had required them to come to class for some apparently nonexistent lecture, and yet here she was unprepared to answer even their simplest questions. Having wasted their time most rudely and unprofessionally, she was now the focus of their rightful frustrations, and it was only natural that they take out their resentment within the sodden vulnerability of her exposed, hairy mound. She alone was responsible for this. She had no one to blame but herself. She could only lie back, guilty and ashamed, as their rude fingers penetrated her so uncaringly, so vengefully.

Yes, the Department syllabus was unmistakable in this regard, and despite her mortification and her shame, the girl knew that her students were well within their rights—she could do nothing but submit beneath their most intimate and yet oh-so public intrusions. She bit her lip as half a dozen fingers plunged into her hole all at once, thick and insistent, bubbling and squelching through what felt like half a pint of c*m. She was so loose down there, so sloppy, absolutely swimming in sperm. The boy was right, she realized in dismay—it indeed must have taken a particularly relentless and dirty gangbang to splooge her up so. And yet the fact that she could not remember exactly how all that semen got there was somehow just as humiliating as the quantity of the mess. Was she really, she wondered uncertainly, so promiscuous that she could not even recall who had soiled her so…? The thick spatters of forgotten strangers’ ejaculate oozed from her elevated labia back down into the sweaty curls of her pubis, splashed all over her cooling white thighs, drizzled down her rounded buttocks.

Her students cheered each other on as they committed indignities upon her, and though she felt like crying, those insistent fingers plunging again and again into the hairy black nest of her poor open p***y brought Rachel to orgasm with a humiliating swiftness. She tried to hold back, but though her mind recoiled, her whorish flesh betrayed her, and soon she could not help gasping out her unwanted joy, feeling turned inside out as everyone stared pitilessly down at the helpless contortions that they, not she, controlled. That only made them laugh all the harder, and as the sneering undergrads redoubled their efforts within her drizzling, dilated hole, she reeled through one whimpering climax after another.

Another dream saw her a half-willing visitor to some college art class. They needed a model, a friend of a friend told her urgently, for the woman scheduled had not arrived, and though Rachel hesitated and bit her lip, soon she found herself convinced, and suddenly she reclined nude upon a plush red velvet couch before a classroom full of very serious young art students.

Though the group was most professional and courteous, Rachel could not help being acutely conscious of the erectness of her naughtily pierced n*****s. Only a really horny, dirty girl would get pierced up like that, everyone must have known, a girl who loved to touch herself and have her sensitive n*****s pulled and pinched and twisted and tortured until she could not help screaming in delight at the ravishment. And then to flaunt the over sensitized dark puckers in public before a crowd now…well, what were these imaginative young artists to think? No matter how professionally they attempted to view her, surely it was clear that she was just a wanton, shameless slut, a girl that got off on being watched, and teasing her helpless victims so that they got excited, too.

Feeling profoundly exposed, less a proper art model than a mere s****l object, Rachel became aware of a growing moistness between her soft pale thighs. Though her legs were posed along the crimson couch in mock propriety with her trim knees together, the long lines of her tapering limbs set off all too clearly the alluring curves of hips that veritably cried out to be grappled with and mastered utterly. And beneath that dense triangle of raven curls which gleamed between her supple hips she felt loose and open, like some soft-petaled flower. Finally, with her cheeks red in embarrassment, her nose seemed to breathe nothing but the musk of her own exhibitionistic excitation, and though no one said a word, of course, it appeared to her that now and then another student here and there sniffed the air meaningfully.

What a terrible erotic agony it was to lie on display before these people, to have them stare at her long slinky hips and the wide thatch of glossy black tangles beneath her fluttering belly, and at the jiggly little breasts whose wildly puffed-up nubbins of sensitive erectile tissue simply would not go flat. It was all she could do to keep herself from seducing one of those wide-eyed and innocent eighteen-year-old co-eds into her welcoming white arms or perhaps asking one or two or three of those eager boys if they minded just climbing up into her red velvet couch and f*****g her silly while everyone watched. She ran such scenarios through her mind constantly, in endless variation—oh, the things she might do! And yet still she used all of her willpower, and somehow she resisted the wicked urges. She was so proud of herself.

Finally the session was done, and the shivering thing withdrew to the dressing room, where she found her clothes, a single long-stemmed red rose in an elegant crystal vase, the model’s $100 honorarium…and an enormous black dildo standing thick, nubby and upright on the dressing table. Poor Rachel did not even have the strength to close the door. She just sank to the floor, whimpering out her unspeakable gratitude, and as the class gathered around to watch in respectful silence, she simply lit up that fat thrumming vibrator and filled herself to her very core.

In yet a different dream she was a contestant at a county fair pie-eating contest back in her own hometown. When she began to lower her face toward her pie, however, she saw suddenly through the hole in the center of the flaky brown top-crust that the whole thing was filled to overflowing with the congealing strings of countless grunting male ejaculations. She froze in mid-descent, the color draining from her cheeks, but her wrists were lashed securely behind her back, and though she could not see him, some older man standing immediately behind her chair had put his hand possessively upon her right shoulder, holding her firmly in place.

Somehow everyone in the audience knew. “Why, look at that…” came the wondering tones of a glossy-blonde young soccer mother for whom Rachel used to baby-sit. “That pie is full of sperm!” called the wrinkled old grandmother of one of her best friends. “B-but she’s not really going to eat that, is she?” asked Rachel’s former high school principal, a puzzled middle-aged man with a paunch and great hairy, beefy arms. “I hope so!” replied a girl mischievously, her eyes bright. “Look, Aunt Linda, that girl’s gonna slurp up a pie full of splooge! Wow!”

Everyone gawked and pointed. Teenaged boys nudged one another in the ribs, snickering. A camera crew from the local television station began focusing in on the commotion, the ditzy bleach-blonde reporter jabbering, “Stay tuned, viewers, to our exclusive coverage of the year’s most heartwarming and provocative human-interest story, a young girl’s courageous public struggle for s****l identity and self-expression…” The son of one of her father’s business associates started taking pictures excitedly, and Rachel knew in despair that the images of her shame and degradation would be posted all over the internet within hours, where men—and perhaps even women, too, she reminded herself, blushing—would masturbate to the terrible perversion.

“You do want to do it, don’t you, Ms. Aschelman?” taunted a voice so close behind her blazing ear. “You want to show everyone what a dirty slut you can be. Go ahead, Rachel, wallow in your lusts.” The unseen yet strangely familiar man reached calmly down and yanked up her tee-shirt, baring to the gaze of the crowd the naked little breasts whose puckered erections, despite the enormity of her public shame, simply would not go flat.

“Hey,” chuckled one of the teenage boys, “not bad!” Another shrugged, “Well, I usually like a bigger set of t**s than that, but, you know, those pierced n*****s sure do look like they’d be fun to play with. I’ll bet she’s a real slut.” Rachel’s old principal nodded sagely to the boys, adding, “Yes, I presume so, gentlemen—after all, she wouldn’t have gotten the naughty things all pierced up like that unless she really wanted ‘em gawked at and teased and tortured, right? Oh, I always knew she had it in her…”

There were murmurs of approval from all over the crowd, and as the father of the family for whom she used to baby-sit dropped his hand conspiratorially upon his pretty blonde wife’s naked knee, the blushing Rachel somehow could hear with preternatural clarity as the devoted husband whispered into the woman’s ear, “Ooh, sweetie, look at those yummy little titties! I bet you’d like to suck on those, huh? And maybe pinch ‘em and bite ‘em…?” The wife shivered prettily, her eyes bright and excited as she nodded eagerly back at the man. “Mm, then let’s have her over this Friday so we can go out to that sleazy porn theater on the east side and get warmed up by watching a couple of really, really dirty movies, and maybe play with each other a little in the dark.” The blonde woman smiled dreamily, shifting her hips so that her husband could reach beneath her skirt and begin stroking her there between her pale thighs. “Yeah,” he continued encouragingly, rubbing her, “but after the kids fall asleep we’ll come back home, and she’ll have written instructions to be waiting in bed for us, all naked and white and smooth.” The soccer mom’s eyes flashed bright and hungry as she thought about it. “Mm, and we can take turns doing whatever we want to her,” assured the husband quietly, “eating her, touching her, kissing her, f*****g her…”

The man standing behind Rachel then reached his left hand across her pale bosom and began molesting the upstanding mounds purposefully. Oh, how his knowing old fingers made her squirm as he moved from one overexcited peak of erectile tissue to another! He had unzipped, apparently, and she felt the man’s hot, naked erection pressing urgently along the fuzzy nape of her neck and her reddened ear, jouncing in the glossy raven tresses of her hair. Then his right hand reached down and around, until his ungentle fingers slipped into the waistband of her shorts, down through a crinkly black delta of curls that already had begun to moisten betrayingly, and straight into the top of her sweating vulva. All eyes were upon her, but though she tried to remain defiant, that questing fingertip suddenly found the spot that would master her utterly.