Punishing Pamela

by Reese Gabriel

  Lorenzo crossed his skinny legs, brushing something off the knee of his shiny gray trousers. With the yellow shirt, purple leather jacket and boots he was an eyesore to say the least. If anyone had seen him come in, she’d be ruined as a teacher. No matter what, she had to get the man out quickly and quietly. Even if it meant promising him something later on or—perish the thought—employing her own body as a persuader.

  “Not a catch; just a decision I’ve come to. To protect my interests, you understand.”

  “What interests, Lorenzo. Stop beating around the bush.”

  “Ironic choice of words…bush, wouldn’t you say?”

  She frowned at his stupid, hollow grin. “I’ll pay you money if you want. You can sleep with me, too. But we can’t let anyone see you here.”

  “Don’t bother, Honey Snatch,” he interrupted her pro forma unbuttoning of the top of her dress. “You’re damaged goods. Last night cost me a cool million; that’s right, Mr. Big was singularly unimpressed. Said you were mocking him or some such shit. Which means I have one option: Cut my losses.”

  Pamela felt the panic well in her throat. “What are you talking about?”

  He stretched out his arms on the back of the sofa, his rings gleaming in the light. “I’m going to sell you,” he smiled, prepared to savor her reaction. “To the highest bidder.”

  She was on her feet. “No. That’s not happening to me. Not again.”

  “It is, Pamela. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it. The whole nine yards. The nudity, the sweat, the burning lights, the auctioneer calling out your personal details, your every blemish…”

  She braced herself, palms on the edge of the desk. It was so vivid, so real. The perspiration pouring off her skin, the Overseer violating her, poking and prodding every orifice to the laughter of the men, their faces hidden in the dark. The calling of the bids as she was assayed, moved every which way, put into every pose that could possibly suggest sex.

  “A virgin,” he’d proclaimed, “no experience, but look at this ass. See how it takes a whipping? And who wouldn’t want in either of these two holes…or better yet both at once?”

  More laughter as he double penetrates her, making her rise on tiptoes, spinning her to face them so they can see how she responds, how she obviously loves it and was born for it.

  “Five hundred!” a man calls. Then six and seven and eight and nine…

  “I’ll fight you, Lorenzo,” Pamela promised, forcing back the memory. “You won’t take me down easily.”

  “I guess I could threaten you,” he shrugged indifferently. “But I’ll wager that wouldn’t make any difference. There is one thing, though, that I bet would change your mind.”

  Pamela felt a flood of dread.

  “That’s right,” he read her mind, just like he’d always been able to do in the old days. “I know all about your little lover boy, Principal Tom. Did you think you’d get away with that? I’ve been watching you like a hawk, you stupid cunt. We have pictures and everything. We can ruin you both, and while I’m sure you’d let your own career go, I don’t think you want to drag him down. And that’s only the beginning. We’ll see to it he ends up in jail, too. Planted drugs, whatever it takes. And in case you think I don’t have the balls to pull it off—and it’s true, I don’t—I’ve enlisted a little help this time from my old friend Makahiro. Remember him, Honey Snatch?”

  Pamela felt an icy grip at the back of her neck. Remember him? He’d been single handedly the most frightening man she’d ever had the misfortune of slaving for. He’d never pushed her past her own breaking point, but she’d never doubted that he could. Maki was hardcore, a real life gangster who happened to like the flesh trade on the side. Lorenzo, by contrast was just a two-bit flesh peddler, a step ahead of the grave.

  “I—I don’t want Tom hurt,” she confirmed.

  “Then you need to cooperate, don’t you…slave?”

  “Yes,” Pamela hung her head. “Master.”

  “Cheer up,” Lorenzo pulled out a cigar in strict violation of Ivy Dell’s no smoking policy. “You know you love this shit…there’s no way a girl like you will ever be happy free. You’re a natural slut, born to kiss and lick her chains…and any cock that’s put in front of her.”

  “I’ll need some time to put my affairs in order.”

  “Sorry, babe. I put you on the list for tonight at Maki’s place. I’m not taking any chances on you running out on me again. And just so this Tom Rains asshole doesn’t turn out to be another Nick Malloy, you and me are gonna pay a little visit to your principal’s office. By the time you’re done in there, he won’t want to touch you with a ten foot pole.”

  Lorenzo made her walk with him side by side down the hallway. She had to put her arm around him and every time they passed one of the other teachers who happened to be staying after school, he would clamp his hand firmly on her ass. Pamela turned beat red as she drew stares and even a few incensed gasps. This treatment was bad enough, but she was thankful at least that it wasn’t happening during school hours.

  “Don’t bother knocking,” Lorenzo reached round her for the knob. “You know he’s in there.”

  “Pamela.” Tom was on his feet. His look of distinct pleasure turned quickly to confusion and then distress as he saw her longhaired, brightly arrayed companion. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he said cautiously. “Mister…”

  “It’s true,” Lorenzo nodded. “You haven’t had the pleasure.”

  “This is…Larry,” Pamela supplied quickly. “We’re old…” She fished for the right words.

  “We’re gonna get married,” Lorenzo trumpeted, his arm still tightly cinched around her waist. “I’ve known little Pammy here since she was eighteen.”

  “Pamela, is that true?”

  He leaned into her, conveying the not so subtle threat. “Tell him…darling.”

  “Yes,” she forced a cheerful countenance. “We do go back that far, and yes…we are getting married.”

  The pain was evident on the handsome face. “I see. Well, in that case…” he ran his hand through his hair, glaring down at the papers on his desk. “I suppose things are changed…I do wish you’d told me, Pamela.”

  “She’s kind of shy, Tom. Say, you got a light on you? My cigar’s burned out.”

  “Pamela,” Tom appealed. “Surely this is some kind of joke?”

  “No, Tom,” she steeled herself. “I’m going off with Lorenzo…he’s the first man I ever lived with, the one who knows me best. I’ll be quitting, Tom. As of today.”

  “Quitting?” Now he looked doubly struck. “But…but you’re the best English teacher we’ve got. We have the highest hopes for you.”

  “Pamela has bigger fish to fry,” Lorenzo grabbed her, turning her for a kiss. “She wants to make babies. Don’t you, honey?”

  Pamela had no choice but to accept the man’s advances, his tongue plowing her mouth, his hands kneading her ass cheeks through the cotton dress like dough. Without any underwear on, she was getting dangerously heated. Any fragment of self-will she had was about to vanish in the haze of her quickly dissolving teaching career.

  “In fact, little Pamela will be carrying my baby any day now, won’t you, Sugar Plum?”

  Lorenzo was behind her, his arms wrapped round her belly. He was forcing Pamela to face Tom, giving her no escape. “Yes,” she whispered hotly, repeating the outrageous lie. “I will…I want to.”

  “And when you stop and think about it, Tom,” he ran his hands up her ribcage, cupping her breasts outrageously. “Pam here is too pretty to be a teacher, don’t you agree? I mean who could concentrate around this?”

  Pamela’s head went back on the pimp’s shoulder in response to the crude caress. She didn’t want to shame herself like this, nor did she want to hurt Tom, but she couldn’t help it. Besides, if she tried to fight her desires now, she’d only get Tom in more trouble later on.

  “Oh, God,” she moaned, leaning into him, needing his hands, h
is tight, hard body.

  “You see, Tom? A woman like this was designed for one purpose and one purpose only: between the sheets. Isn’t that right, Pammy?”

  She was running her hands up under the hem of her own dress, wanting to bare her crotch, to show Tom how bad she was. “It’s true,” she breathed. “I’m a slut…I’ve always been a slut.”

  “Pamela, for heaven’s sake!” The croaking Tom had found his voice, a dozen emotions raging across his face. For a second she thought he might try to grab her, maybe to molest her himself, or else to attack the weak and easily beatable pimp.

  “Tell him, Pammy. Tell him what you are, Honey Snatch.”

  “A…slave slut,” she fingered herself. “A horny…fuckable little Honey Snatch slave slut.”

  “That’s quite enough, Pamela,” Tom said, brittle as ice. “You need to go.”

  “No, Tom. She needs to come. Don’t you, my little Honey Snatch?”

  Her dress was bunched at her waist. She had both hands in deep, the juice running down both thighs. “Yes,” she confirmed, her eyes burning on Tom’s. “I need it bad. I need Lorenzo’s dick deep inside me.”

  “What else?” Lorenzo began to tear at her buttons, wanting at her tits. “What else do you want?”

  Pamela collapsed against him, the orgasm rolling over her. “I want…to be whipped and beaten…I want to be your slave, Lorenzo. Please, Master, keep me,” she broke free, the room spinning around her. “I’ll be better, I promise…Honey Snatch promises…please don’t sell her tonight.”

  Pamela found herself on her knees in front of Lorenzo, this simple act for Tom’s sake having been transformed into a very real plea for her own future. She hadn’t intended it to go this way, it was just that when a man’s hands were on her, she couldn’t help but want to belong to him, to serve him totally. It was this utter faithlessness, this complete inability to rule her own loins that made her truly a slut…a woman fit only for the lowest form of slavery.

  “I am leaving this office,” Tom stepped over the backs of her legs. “I will be back in two minutes with the school security officer. If you are still here, I will have the both of you arrested for public indecency.”

  Pamela started at the sound of the slamming door. It was the first time she’d ever seen Tom Rains angry.

  “Don’t think I didn’t catch your little ploy,” growled Lorenzo, pulling her up by her ear. “You better hope he didn’t pick up on it, either, or you’ll both be very sorry.”

  The former teacher, Pamela Hayes, transformed once more into the slave Honey Snatch, whimpered under his savage lobe twisting.

  “Master, please, I didn’t try any ploy, I swear!”

  “Liar!” He slapped her coldly. “What else do you call blabbing about your being sold? You think he won’t try to find you now?”

  “He…he won’t,” she promised, tears welling up. “Please, just leave him alone. You have me…I’m your little Honey Snatch again. You can use me…I’ll be good…I’ll make you money…in the House…on the street, even, if that’s where you want me…I won’t be a problem, I swear…I’ll work my ass off for fifty dollar tricks…I’ll hustle, I’ll be twice the slave for you I ever was…just give the word, I’ll crawl after you, Master, out of this building, naked, on all fours, back to the Lair, and I’ll never, ever try to get away again…take me now…make me heel you like a little dog…humiliate me in front of everyone.”

  Lorenzo had his hand out like he wanted to hit her again. “Aw, fuck it,” he muttered. “I don’t have time for this shit. In a few hours, you won’t be my problem anymore. And you better fetch a decent price tonight, cause the auction’s at Maki’s place and no matter who buys you, you’re spending tonight with him and his boys, got it?”

  “Y-yes, Master.” Her throat was bone dry. The man was going to turn her over to Maki. In just a few short hours, she would be sold, her body put on the auction block, like a piece of meat, a living, breathing, female piece of meat…and if she didn’t clear enough profit, you could bet Makahiro would take the rest out of her hide before the formal transfer of sale tomorrow morning.

  Not a pretty picture. The only consolation was the knowledge Tom would be all right. She’d miss him more than anything, but wherever she went, she would never have to worry for him again. Will he worry for me? She wondered. Pushing back the thought, not wanting to blubber in front of Lorenzo, Pamela concentrated on buttoning herself up for the trip to the man’s car.

  It was going to be a long night, she inhaled deeply, and there was no point in losing her cool…yet.

  Chapter Seven

  “We go in through the back door,” Trevor explained as they pulled around the corner.

  “I’m scared,” whispered the unclad Erica, getting an eyeful of the burnt out neighborhood and the ominous looking brick warehouse with the neon signs on it.

  “It’ll be okay,” Trevor said, reaching across the seat and taking her hand. “You’ll be with me the whole time.”

  She leaned across to kiss him, her bare punished breasts rubbing against his shirt. In just a few short hours this boy—this man—had made her feel things no one else had ever come close to touching. He had taken something from her, something precious, and in exchange, he was giving her love and mastery, a reason for living.

  “Tell me I’m your girl, Trev. Tell me you won’t ever leave me.”

  He wrapped his fingers round her face, circling her throat. “You’re mine, Erica. I wouldn’t have brought you here if you weren’t.”

  “I—I want to be good,” she offered him her moist eyes. “I want to please you.”

  His hands strayed between her naked thighs. She parted them immediately and widely with a shudder.

  “You do, baby, you do,” her lover rasped. “And it’s going to please me even more to see you in there…to see you trained.”

  “I—I’ll be your slave,” she said the words, dark and forbidden.

  “I’ll be your master.” His hand moved along her slit, bringing her instantly to a fresh orgasm. She was too weak afterwards to walk, so he carried her, across the dismal parking lot, past the filthy dumpster to the windowless door. Trev pounded it with his foot. It opened with a creak, revealing a very scary looking bald man with a goatee. His eyes were beady and he had some kind of a big gun.

  “Al,” Trev palled with him. “How’s it hangin’?”

  Erica clung to her boyfriend, burying her face against the giant’s glare.

  “They’re waiting for you,” the big man said, his voice like a low roar. “In the back room.”

  “You’re gonna see some things, Erica,” Trev warned as he carried her proudly through the kitchen, like the prize trophy she was. “Don’t be scared, though. Those girls have a lot more experience than you do. And they’re there by their choice. You won’t have to do that kind of stuff right off.”

  ‘That kind of stuff’, as Erica got a wide-eyed view of the mammoth, multi-tiered club, proved to be pure S&M kink with a capital “K”. Everywhere she turned her eyes, she saw subjugated females. Young, pretty women, just like her. Up on crosses, submitting to whippings, tied down for penetration, performing on stages to small groups of largely indifferent men. It was like a strip club turned nightmare, with the serving girls nude and on their knees and the dancers offering no resistance to whatever fondling the reaching hands wanted to deliver.

  There was even a holding tank of some kind, way high up, inside of which two nude girls were going at each other, biting and scratching each other’s breasts, hip deep in some kind of gooey mess while above them, on the balcony, men were making a sport of pissing on them.

  Something about a third girl, about to be tossed in, kicking and screaming looked familiar.

  Erica gasped, trying to see more clearly. “Stop!” she cried to Trevor over the music, trying to halt his relentless progress across the huge club floor. “Up there! Look!”

  Trevor followed her eyes to where the thin blonde was struggling, the two m
en holding her arms just now shoving her over the edge of the platform. She screamed on the way down, landing face first. The other two girls jumped on her at once.

  Trevor’s face had turned white.

  Erica spoke what they were both thinking. “Trev, that was Mandy!”

  ***

  Amanda Crispin gasped for air. The thick goop was choking her. She had to surface, but there were hands holding her down. One, two, three, she counted and finally they let her up, the other two girls in the slop pit.

  “Please, no!” Mandy wailed, her world turned to a disgusting horror. “My hair.”

  The black girl, her brown skin barely distinguishable under the thin layer of scum, yanked back Mandy’s ruined curls. “You’re not winning tonight, you little bitch, got it?”

  The brunette, who was similarly coated in the scum, delivered a hard slap. “Submit now, cunt, and we won’t kill you.”

  “Hey,” called out one of the guards, poking the brunette in the ass with a long stick from above. “Play nice, girls, or you’ll all end up in solitary.”

  “Over here,” the black girl pointed to the other, grinning.

  They each took an arm, wading Mandy over towards the balcony where a man was unzipping.

  “This can’t be happening!” cried Mandy, her legs buried up to her pussy in the foul-smelling mixture of what looked like creamed corn, kitchen garbage and urine.

  “It is, bitch!” the shorthaired muscular African American growled, “so deal with it.”

  The man laughed, drunk, as he took aim. He missed at first, but finally he lined up his sights, landing his spray on the blonde’s forehead. She clamped her mouth shut and held her breath. Maybe when she opened them, this would all be over. She’d be back with Blake in the car, playing just with him, being his little bitch slut like they had on the ride over.

  They shouldn’t have come here, Mandy thought. Blake hadn’t known what he was doing. He was in over his head from the start. She hadn’t meant to get herself in trouble, but why on earth should she be expected to suck a man’s dick she’d only just met? Especially not a fat guy with crossed eyes. Pissing him off had been a mistake, though, and Mandy had been promptly stripped and thrown in the pit for a little “lesson in humility,” as the man put it. Well, Mandy was plenty humble already and she didn’t need to be urinated on to prove it.