Puppetmaster's Revenge [w/ My Old HS Teacher] free porn video

"So you only went to Springfield Community College?"

That question was what resonated loudest from my latest failed job interview. I thought it was going smoothly up until that moment. And from there it went downhill, just like the other dozen or so interviews I had gone to this past month. It seemed like a pretentious thing to hold against someone, but I was aiming high in my career while lacking the prestigious university degree on my resume. I would settle for even the small respectable state college as my alma mater.

Yes I was bitter, but looking back at the changing point of my life, I would not have punished myself that severely for simply being a teenager. Prior to my high school graduation, I had built up a respectable school record as I applied to several respectable universities. That was all undermined with one high school expulsion, which in turn, had colleges retract their scholarship offers and acceptances.

At the root of that reprimand was a teacher named Elsa Torrini. Ms. Torrini was an unwed high school English teacher with the personality of a gargoyle. The students found her to be rather stiff, boring and excessively strict, centered solely on the lesson of the day and that lesson alone. We didn't know much about her other than her harsh grading tendencies, refusal to compromise with tardiness of any kind and the complete unwillingness to converse with a student. I also found it quite paradoxical that a middle aged Italian woman with a strong vestigial accent was our English teacher, correcting every bit of our grammar and spelling of our essays with thick red marker that leaked from one side of the page to the other. We could not even speak casually with each other during her class. There was no slang or casual talk to be spoken in Ms. Torrini's classroom.

The one redeeming quality of Ms. Torrini was unanimous among the male student body. She was hot. Unbelievably scalding hot. She embodied the exotic look of a Mediterranean supermodel. Despite being in her early 40s, she had the skin and face of someone in their late 20s. She had curly dark brown hair that seemed to frizz and bunch either in heat or when she was yelling at another student. Her figure was immaculate, with long legs that ran till tomorrow, hips and rear end stolen from a rap video vixen and a round busty chest that she constantly tried to hide behind bras one or two sizes too small or with skin tight sweaters and vests. Ironically, she became more attractive to us boys when she was yelling and correcting us. Something about her fierce nature just sent tremors down our spines.

And this physical attraction was where I got in trouble. One afternoon, a couple of my friends and I were loitering by the school steps. School had long been dismissed, and it was far too hot to do anything of exertion. We lounged and talked, as teenage boys do, and the conversation eventually transitioned into the lust filled discussion of how incredible Ms. Torrini looked with a sweat drenched button down shirt that day. We rambled on and on about how great it would be if she wasn't such a prude ogre. We physically acted out our imaginary hump sessions in the event we ever got our hands on Ms. Torrini. We even discussed in detail where we'd have angry sex with her all over the school's campus. Little did we know, Ms. Torrini and another teacher were in the classroom whose windows were adjacent to our location. They heard everything.

In a completely uncompromising meeting with Ms. Torrini and our principal, we faced some harsh scrutiny and verbal backlash. While our principal was sympathetic to our hormonal behavior, Ms. Torrini refused to show any mercy. She threatened not just us, but the school with sexual harassment lawsuit after lawsuit to the brink where our principal had no choice but to crack down on us. Given that I was the most buoyant and crude in our overheard discussions, I received the harshest punishment. I was immediately expelled from school, ruining my college opportunities that were only a few months away.

And here I am today, scr****g what little job I could in this rinky dink town instead of the admirable positions in actual functioning cities. It was worth bragging to be a businessman in this district years ago, but this so-called "downtown" had long been forsaken. Imagine building the foundation for a bustling metropolis, only to abandon it and let it be filled with the less than desirable. Ill.egal businesses thrived here, and what few honest businesses were left, like the one where I was currently employed, struggled to make ends meet.

I guess when integrity is lost, communities surrendered to their lowest instincts. Sex sold here. It seemed like the former ritzy public venues and palatial department stores had to be used for something when the rich ran away from town and the despondent moved back in. Four star hotels turned into brothels, theaters built for award winning musicals and plays began airing cheap adult films and the once-manicured park now featured giant weeds that would barely guise paid public sex acts.

Murray's Tavern was one example. As a former 5-star restaurant situated at the ground floor of a commercial building that took up an entire city block, it was turned into your cliched dingy pub with an impressive gloryhole emporium to the rear of the tavern. Murray's Tavern provided some minor escape from our town's burdens. It was a few blocks from my office building, and became a popular fixture for our downtrodden residents to receive blowjobs from some unattractive and desperate women. But I just could never really appreciate the anonymity of the working girls in the next stall.

It was actually my boss, believe it or not, that informed me of a new forbidden "development" that was taking place across from Murray's Tavern. I struggled to recollect as to what was across from the tavern. All I could remember was the massive former headquarters of the city's police department.

"That's the one," he confirmed. "It's geared for those who like to watch instead of touch."

Confused by his cryptic explanations, I also remembered the state of the building by passing by it just this morning.

"The entire ground floor was still vacant though. The windows remain boarded up and the front is one huge graffiti mural. I passed by there just this morning."

"That's just the ground floor," he asserted. "That actually helps keep the illusion. Once you pay, the real action is on the fourth floor. Completely...umm... completely refurbished if you will. You can be the puppetmaster of the show."

My boss was smiling from ear to ear as if he was currently experiencing what he had there. His explanations still didn't register with me. Regardless, my curiosity was sparked more than my arousal, and I decided I'd check out the place after work.

I made my way to the old police headquarters. The old corner entry was completely boarded up with tarnished plywood. There was no way to enter there. I walked along the front facade along the main avenue to only see the same. The huge storefront windows were boarded up with giant barricades in order to restrict access. I decided I'd turn the corner, and headed down the smaller street. I had never been this far off the main road as it became exponentially dangerous this way. Alas, the building revealed no entry along the side. In one final attempt to appease my boss's recommendations, I walked down the service alley behind the old police station. This was clearly where police cars and trucks operated away from the main street, transporting their arrests away from public view. However, there still was no entry, just another long row of boarded windows.

I walked halfway into the alley until a recessed entry finally came into view. I approached it, however it was nothing but a fire exit. It was a solid metal door scribbled from top to bottom with marker ink and spray paint with no window or opening. There was no door handle to pull it outwards, but rather two open screw holes that showed where the latch would have gone. I was ready to turn and leave when the otherwise unassuming exit sign grabbed my attention. It was actually lit with its ubiquitous red light animating the EXIT text. It seemed as if there was some pulse inside for the electrical sign to still be functional. With that lone breadcrumb, I knocked firmly on the metal door, hearing the metallic clanks echo across the alley way.

I didn't actually expect a response, but the door swung open immediately. Peering out was a well built figure who gazed at me with some intimidation. He stuck his head further out the doorway, looking to the left and right of the alley way.

"Are you alone?" he asked.

I paused a moment, still surprised that I had actually come across an individual in this building. Finally, I nodded to confirm that I was indeed alone. He paused himself, almost unsure of the stranger before him before signaling for me to come in. As I stepped in, he reached out behind me to close the heavy metal door, looping the latch and lock to secure it. He then walked away from me through a dim lit corridor toward an old cargo elevator. He looked back, puzzled as to why I was not following him. I took his cue, and walked toward the elevator with him.

Before entering, he gestured by rubbing the fingers of his right hand together to signal that he must be paid prior to riding the elevator. I fumbled with what money I had in my wallet, grabbing every bill I could. Sensing my uncertainty of how much to pay, he grabbed the entire amount of crumpled bills in my hand with no objection from myself. I preferred not to have my arms broken by this man. He sorted through the money, took what was necessary and respectfully returned to me what was not needed. I finally entered the elevator. He swung the metal latticed doors, and pressed the button to the fourth floor.

As we ascended, I could faintly see each floor we passed through the latticed elevator doors. The second floor was probably the old office of the police station with tables flipped over and partition walls marred with holes and fire burns. The third floor was even in worse condition from visible water damages, with giant puddles creating potholes in the level's concrete floor slab. Its must of decaying matter wreaked, and every surface seemed brown and tinged from waste water runoff. Just what kind of place had I gotten myself into? What kind of irony would it be to be mugged or killed in a former police station? I was still oblivious as to what kind of institution this was and what it offered.

My rising anxiety subsided as we reached the fourth floor. Clean carpeted floors extended across the hallway and the walls glistened from fresh coats of paint. While dim in setting, the lighting fixtures were still brand new, probably installed no more than a month ago. It really looked more like a theater than a police station. As my security guide opened the latticed elevator doors, I stepped out only to hear the doors close behind me. Before he could reach the button to descend back down, I naively shot him a question.

"Wait! Ummm where am I?" I sheepishly inquired.

He gave a short chuckle before responding. "You're in the former interrogation cells of the police station. This place was the main holding center for every suspect and witness in the entire city. This entire floor is lined with both interrogation and suspect lineup rooms."

"I'm sorry, but," I persisted. I still wasn't clear as to how this pertained to me.

Now annoyed with my ignorant questions, he responded, "One-way glass. You can see in, they can't see out. Not to mention their intercom system. Isn't it an obvious conversion for what we do here? Just walk down the hall, make a left and enjoy the shows."

I was just about ask him what exactly do they do here, but he had already pressed the button to descend in the elevator. I thought back to the cryptic stories of my boss, and it slowly began to make some sense. I made my way down the corridor and took a left as instrcuted, only to be in front of another deep hall. This stretch of the corridor had no light of its own, but rather all illumination came from adjacent windows to other rooms. I walked toward this ambient lighting until I came within sight of the first exhibition room. I cautiously inched my way toward the edge of the glass window to get my first peep.

The room behind the glass was as bare and cold as when it was first built to intimidate the crooked. Its walls were still the dark gray painted concrete block texture bottomed off with a bare concrete floor. There was nothing else to furnish the room except for the single mattress on the center of the room that supported the couple inside.

Inside the room was an elder man with a petite young woman, probably not even in her 20s yet. She was on all fours bent over in front of him as he pumped into her furiously from behind. Her slender frame seemed overpowered by the larger man as she was violently thrown forward with every thrust only to be pulled back to his cock. Her hair was in disarray and the skin of her ass cheeks had grown crimson with irritation as the man continued to pound on her from behind. I could hear everything from inside, as if it were emitted from a telephone speaker, complete with some side static.

"SPANK HER AGAIN!"

I was startled by the command that came from my side of the window. I was so taken by the show in the other room that I had never even noticed the figure who loitered by the right side of the viewing glass.

"SPANK HER AGAIN!" he commanded by pressing the button and speaking directly into the room's intercom. I turned my attention back to the show to see if the request had been accepted as the man continued to slap the left cheek of the woman as he thrusted in and out. Overcome by the sharp strikes to her rear, the woman lowered her face from sight into the mattress.

"Pull her hair back."

The man inside the room fulfilled another command by forcibly pulling her hair back to the point where her face perfectly mirrored the window in front of her, displaying every minute expression of hers to us watching. By then, her moans had grown to full blown wails of pleasure that audibly carried on to our side of the window as she continued to get fucked from behind.

"How do you like the show?"

That question was aimed at me from the nefarious figure orchestrating the show. I faced him feeling a strong degree of trepidation, but surprisingly, he continued with cordial and casual banter.

"It's quite the show, isn't it?" he continued. "They have to do everything you say. You have complete control. It's like you're the puppetmaster."

That analogy rung in my ears. My boss's precise description was pieced together in one swift realization. I had to learn more as I interjected with question after question as to how this function operated, careful not to interrupt his view of what was occurring in the other room.

"Who are these people?" I asked.

"Some are couples. Some are Johns with their working girls. Some are just strangers, swinging or cuckolding. Some want to be here. Some have to be here," he responded, his eyes never diverting from the show as I continued to inquire.

"It's pretty simple. You pick a window. You can see them, but they can't see you. You can hear them, but they can't hear you unless you want them to," he clarified while pointing to the small intercom speaker with a lone red button to the right of the window. "Press the button to speak, then enjoy. They have to do whatever you say. They better do what you say. The better the show, the more that come."

Comfortable with what I had learned, I decided to leave the man alone to his window. We exchanged friendly goodbyes, and I made my way deeper down the hall. I passed by two empty rooms before arriving at another one that was occupied. Inside was an older couple, already deep into their fucking with the woman pinned against the wall with her legs dangling in the air. It seemed as if they had completely ignored the lone mattress in the middle of the room. I decided this was not the show for me and continued onward.

After a few more turns I came across a group of men huddled around another window. This room they were peering into had a couch instead with two women voraciously kissing and rubbing each other. Two men took turns reciting commands into the intercom while the other three stood back to watch. Interesting, but this show was far too crowded, and I decided to move on again.

I must have passed 4 or 5 other couples' shows, spending no more than a minute watching each. While I appreciated these women's sexual prowess, none had the attractive quality that reeled me in. I was running out of windows to view and the further I explored in the building, the darker the halls seemed to get. I finally ran into what I figured to be the terminal point, coming across double doors at the end of the winding halls. Rather than double back and walk the distance of the labyrinthine corridor, I decided to press through hoping that I could find a shortcut back to the cargo elevator. After entering the double doors and a few more left and right turns, I was surprised to come across one more stretch of dark hallway that had an isolated bright flash that was indicative of an occupied sexroom. I clearly had this stretch of the building all too myself so I approached this window hoping for one last opportunity to enjoy a show.

At last, I found a room with a woman who interested me. Her back was to me as she faced her partner in the room, but I could see her hour glass figure perfectly sculpted from behind. I couldn't help but to notice her bare ass, plump but tight, forming a perfect upside down heart. She was wearing a black corset that left little to the imagination, latched to her fishnet stockings via a garter belt with no underwear or shoes. Her dark curly hair puffed out and extended just past her olive skin shoulders.

The hulking man across from her was masked, wearing a cloak that covered his brow and nose. He was an overweight individual, probably well into his 50s with disheveled grey hair and a poorly-groomed beard. From what little I could see though his masquerade, there was a certain look of malice in his eyes as he stood naked before her. He was still flaccid, but the length and girth of his soft cock was still remarkable as it dangled below. I pressed my hands and face to the glass, further examining the scene before me. This room was even more barren than the others. No mattress, no couch, no table or chair. Just two individuals encased in a shabby desolate gray cell.

I figured this would be the show I'd try to orchestrate. I approached the intercom, pressed the button and brought my mouth to the speaker. Nervously, I pondered my first command.

"Suck."

That was all I could muster in a whisper among my state of timidity. However, the man in the room clearly heard my request as he assertively signaled to the ground that the woman kneel before him. She complied, and he wasted no time in stepping in front of her to place his cock in her mouth. She had not stroked him with her lips more than twice before he had placed his hand on the back of her head in domineering fashion as he forcibly slammed her mouth on his hardening rod.

I watched the back of her head bob back and forth, faintly hearing the gargling sound as she labored with each descent on his cock. While on her knees, she placed her hands on his thighs. I could see from the flexing of her toned back and shoulders that she was pushing back against the man to try and alleviate her throatfucking, but she was no match to the brute will of the gargantuan man. I hadn't even noticed that I was rubbing myself through my pants, my dick fully erect and pleading to be freed from the restraints of my trousers. After one look around to confirm I was indeed alone, I let myself out. I began stroking my bare member in the open as I mimicked the back of the woman's bobbing head with my own hand.

With no other command given within the span of the first 10 minutes, the man took the initiative on his own, this time using both hands on the back of her head to propel her head onto his cock. He altered tempos from jackhammer speeds of facefucking to temptingly slow, drawn out motions with occasional pauses in deepthroat with the woman gagging as he restrained her lips around the base of his cock. I could have erupted myself as I simulated the scene with my own hand. In order to maximize my experience, I called in my next command.

"Fuck her."

Maybe unoriginal, but it was short and sweet. I left it to the masked man to fill in the blanks for his performance. He released the woman from his hold, and ordered her to rise. As she rose from her kneel, I noticed the small puddle of saliva that had pooled under her knees. That was some great deepthroating. Once the woman was to her feet, the masked man pushed the woman backward until her back pressed against the window in front of me. There, he fondled and sucked on her bare chest, which were further perked up by her black corset. The woman moaned as her hands pressed against the glass, leaving a distinguished imprint.

When the man had finished with her chest, he firmly grabbed her by the arm and forcibly turned her around and pressed her against the glass for my first full frontal view of her. My attention was instantly drawn below. She flashed a thin landing strip of curly pubic her on her snatch, completely exhibited below her garter belt. Moving my eyes upward, her breasts were extravagant mounds, filling the width of her chest even as they pressed firmly against the window. And then there was her face...

Her face that was all too recognizable. The face that I had grown to love and hate while in high school. The face that had the same exact amount of subtle makeup as if she were lecturing in one of her classes. I stepped up the glass window until I was nearly pressed up against it myself just to confirm.

It was Ms. Elsa Torrini...

Her face was separated from mine by a mere half inch of plate glass when the masked man pushed her cheek up against the window as he inserted his shaft into her cunt. Her jaw dropped from the sensation of her slit being penetrated. I brought my face directly in front of hers as she moaned and whimpered while being pounded from behind. Unbelievable. I was looking eye to eye, as clear as day, with my old teacher, and yet she could not see me from her side of the wall.

A million and one thoughts ran through my mind. None more conflicting than the emotions of both pleasure and contempt. I then asked myself, "why did these have to be exclusive from one another?" I could use both in my favor instead. Moving from my direct gaze into Ms. Torrini's face, I walked back to the intercom.

"Harder.... Harder, please."

I still struggled to instruct anything more than two words, but my abbreviated directives are followed beautifully as the masked man's thrusts gained velocity and authority as he rammed my old English teacher against the glass. Her deep breath of exasperation fogged the mirror in front of her as she began to scream from the stretching of her pussy's lips. I moved back in front of her, placing my left hand on the glass where her breasts were pressed against, my right hand back to stroking my own rod.

The sight of a former classroom tyrant turned into a common fucktoy made my cock throb and leak out precum. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her moans growing as her cheek continued to thud against the window with every thrust. Yet, I wanted to punish her more.

"Harder," I commanded into the speaker, this time with more agency in my voice.

The masked man accepted my challenge, grasping a large clump of her hair and yanking it back until the overwhelmed expression on her face was directed up toward the ceiling. He slowed down his thrusts, but tried to power through her pelvis as if he tried to fuck her right through the glass. Ms. Torrini began to slide down the glass, probably from her failing knees and quivering legs. The man acquiesces, but not before untying and removing her corset, forcing her to lie in the middle of the cold abrasive concrete floor with her bare back.

It just hit me. I needed to record this. I broke out my phone, and quickly flipped through to my aps and began recording. I had the perfect view of Ms. Torrini lying on her back with her legs spread wide, wearing nothing but her garter belt and fishnet stockings. Her snatch looked perfect, with full lips covering a tiny slit. Her clit had been fully engorged from just being fucked. Her pubic hair was carefully manicured. The masked stranger then kneeled before her, grabbing her by the ankles to further separate her legs for easier entry. He slid his cock back inside, slow at first, then abruptly in one emphatic thrust of his waist.

"Cristo santo!" yelled Ms. Torrini from the brutal penetration of the man. So much for an English lesson.

The man resumed his pace from before, throwing the heavy weight of his body into her pelvis in controlled but powerful slams. Her voluminous breasts continuously bounced up and down from inertia. I looked back at what I was capturing on my phone, visibly seeing Ms. Torrini's tan complexion turning flush and red as she bit her lower lip to prevent her self from screaming. Her legs, still spread wide, became restless, alternating between flailing in the air to wrapping around the robust waistline of the man plunging into her cunt. Her toes curled into themselves, dragging along his backside. Her hands had reached out in an attempt to clutch something, only to curl into nothing as she dug her nails into the concrete slab. Finally, she gave in, moaning loudly like the whore she was.

It was beautiful. But I wanted more.

"Put it in... Put it in her ass," I demanded, my tone gaining some conviction.

The two stopped what they were doing to exhibit two very different reactions. The man looked back with an obvious grin on his face. He was satisfied with the request. Ms. Torrini stared back aimlessly at the window, uncertain as to where her spectator was, but visibly perturbed by my desire. She had no say in the matter as her masked partner ran his hands under her lower back to forcibly flip her over on the hard floor surface. He assertively shifted her legs upward until her ass was up and her face and hands were pressed down into the pavement.

"Put it in!" I repeated in haste.

With one hand steady with the camera phone, my other darted back to my dick to begin rubbing again. I watched with glee as the man in the other room rested the tip of his cock's head at the entry point of her tight hole. He tried pressing it in on its own, but it's unable to break through. He was too large. Using his right hand, he was finally able to slowly insert the head. Ms. Torrini turns her head to the right to conceal her distress, showing me only the back of her frizzy brown hair. The man continues on, slowly slipping each veiny surface of his rod into her rear, inch by inch.

When his shaft seemingly reached its limit inside her, he pulled it out only to push his schlong even deeper than the previous insertion. Finally content with how deep he could go, he began pumping into her asshole. The quality of my camera phone was able to catch the rim of her anus stretch with every drive inside her. My other hand remained on my cock, simulating the reaming of her asshole.

"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr," she growled and mumbled, incapable of emitting discernible words.

"Fuck her hard. Fuck her harder," I commanded. I was growing comfortable with my control. I had her right where I wanted her.

The man continued to slide in and out of her asshole with a consistent rhythm. Each pound generated a discernible slapping noise that pleased me. Fluids dripped down the inner thighs of my former teacher as her ass was fucked again and again.

"Make her suck it. Make her suck you."

The man pulls Ms. Torrini back up to her knees, dangling his cock in front of her face. He put his hand back behind her head to direct her mouth. She engulfed his rod with zeal as his mass stretched her lips wide. The slurping noises echoed from the speaker to my right.

"Taste it. Taste your own ass," I demanded. These were my first commands directed to my old teacher.

My words didn't deter her as she hungrily enveloped his cock with her mouth, drooling along the length of him every time her bottom lip reached his sac. My own cock in hand was beginning to twitch from the show.

"Stand her back up in front of the mirror. Put it back in her ass."

What I commanded, they obeyed as she was bent over in front of the window, her face directly across from me and my phone's camera. I reveled as her face cringed from discomfort as her ass was penetrated once more. And then the ass pounding resumed.

"Where is it? Where is his cock?" I interviewed.

"In my... In my... In my... E 'nel mio culo!" she labored through, finally responding in her foreign tongue.

"In English!" I demanded from her, no different than how she used speak to us in her English class.

"It's in my ass!" she shouted, fully preoccupied by the splitting of her rectum.

"Why?" I questioned rhetorically. There was no response as she whimpered sharply with every pound into her ass cheeks. By then, the sounds of the man's swinging ball sac slapping her slit was audible even without the use of the speaker.

"Why is it in your ass?! Because you are a whore!" I announced, now fully consumed by my megalomania. "Say it!"

"Because.. I.. am... a whore!" she recited reluctantly.

"Yes, you're a whore! Say it again."

"I'm a whore!"

"You're a whore!"

"I'm a whore!"

"You're a whore just like your old students had thought!"

Her eyes opened in the midst of her orgasm, squinting across the window. I had situated myself directly across her face to where it seemed as if she was staring at me right in the eyes. She knew her voyeur was a student of hers. She knew that her identity was no longer anonymous. She knew that she was nothing but a toy in my sweet game of revenge. I was proud that she knew.

I continued orchestrating the rest of the session. I told the man to go harder. He did. I told him to pick her up and pound her ass with her legs raised in the air. He did. I told her to suck him off again. She did. I told him to gag her with his rod. He did. Back and forth, move after move, position after position until I myself was ready to explode.

"Cum in her mouth!" My penultimate declaration.

He removed his cock from her ass for the last time, inserting it right in her mouth. He jerked himself off as she flicked her tongue from side to side along the underside of his dick. Finally he erupted inside her, splashing thick white fluid from the corners of her mouth and down her chin as it overflowed from within. The man convulsed as he drained his load inside Ms. Torrini's mouth. Once he had finished, he left the room via a backdoor on the other end. But now it was my turn.

"Ms. Torrini, look directly in the window!" I commanded using her real name out loud. While remaining on her knees, she scuttled over and faced me from behind the plate glass. "Open your mouth." She dropped her chin to display the large collection of semen that had flooded her gums. I began to jack my cock directly in front of her face. It wasn't long until the sight of her pretty face and mouth left ajar before my own dick had me exploding. I ejaculated stream after stream of cum that spilled over the very glass that saved her from what would otherwise have been a massive sticky facial. I was heavily panting from my own orgasm when I muttered into the intercom my final command.

"Swallow."

She did.

I hit stop on my video recording, and began to clothe myself as Ms. Torrini licked her lips and chin clean in the other room. Staring at her gorgeous face, I paused to enjoy what had just occurred. She then rose from her kneeling posture in front of the window, and jogged out of the room via the same exit her partner had taken in the rear of the room.

Not only did I see the saboteur of my career get what she had coming to her, I had it all in video that I could wield at any point in time. I casually made my way toward the exit, hoping to return home and review my recording. Retracing my steps, I made a left then a right and then a left until I suffered a painful confrontation.

BAM

I was blindsided by a bone jarring tackle from the security figure from the elevator. It wasn't long until my arm was twisted behind me as he literally used it as a human leash to walk me wherever he pleased. He pushed me forward. Then left. Then right. Then a few more lefts until I was far from the public corridors. From there I was thrown through a door into an all too familiar cell-like room, a wall-sized reflection of myself staring right back at me. Before the door could close, the woman I had intended to exploit casually strolled in behind me, still nude with exception of the stockings and garter belt.

"I knew it was you," she asserted, a stone-cold stare in her eyes. "I knew it was you, and I know what you want to do."

My lone exit was sealed off behind her. Like the many witnesses and criminals who used this room before, I was being grilled by my interviewee. I was left with one option in this barren gray cell: confrontation. Defiantly, I faced her not intending to hand over my video evidence.

"You bitch... You slut... You goddamn hypocrite," I berated. I continued with my rant, "You do know that you had me kicked out of school. If it weren't for that, I wouldn't be stuck in this hell hole of a town I am now."

"You can't honestly still be mad at that, can you? If you weren't still here, then you would never have just caught that live show of ours," she countered with a sly look in her face. She was right though. Still, I remained defiant.

"Regardless, you're going down. I have enough on you to completely ruin your career. You ain't getting this video back from me."

"Ain't is not allowed in this classroom, young man!" Her stern voice sent tremors down my spine like it had back in the days of high school. Boy o boy, was she so hot when she was mad. I caught myself from falling into nostalgia.

"...." I kept my mouth shut, still using my poker face. Sensing my unwavering stance, she softened her approach.

"Well, then we'll just have to work something out," she said calmly. She walked toward me, hips seductively swaying from side to side as she approached. Upon reaching me, she clasped my belt buckle with both hands before descending to her knees. She displayed a devious but eager look in her face as she yanked my trousers down, releasing my member before her face. I didn't stop her. I couldn't. I wouldn't. She held my cock up firmly in her hand, looked at me straight in the eyes and smiled. As she licked her lips as if to savor the moment before our impending rendezvous, I heard a familiar static crackle fill the room.

"Suck him," demanded the anonymous voice from the speaker. "I'll be your puppetmaster for this show."


-by cornball




The precursor or tangential storyline on Murray's Tavern can be read here: http://xhamster.com/user/cornball/posts/179775.html