L'Academia Virtuoso Ch. 03

The tutorial continues.

Bianca walked, scruff brown dirt, fallen dried leaves and drips of spattered sunlight scattered behind in her wake. Her head turned from side to side, perhaps looking for redemption, or a safer route, or at least a moment to pause and ponder the path her steps were taking. Pushed forwarding, her hands clutched a folded map, her eyes fixed straight ahead, pretending not to know the purpose of her destination. A face of innocence, except for the subtle upturned corner of her mouth, a sly wisp of a grin that passersby would likely miss, or even if noticed, would only convey a wry hint of pleasure attributable to the joy of the morning sky and spring blossoms and crisp cool air. She almost believed the innocence of the journey. Almost. She pushed onward, hoping not to see anyone.

Her assignment had begun earlier that morning. Called to the Professor's office, Mrs. Willoby sat behind her oaken desk and stared through Bianca like a dog owner whose pup just crapped on ancient hardwood flooring paving the holy vestibule of the Church of Everlasting Sacred Vows. Empathy was not Mrs. Willoby's strength. Nor were kindness, sympathy or understanding. In a different era she would have been another Carrie Nation, a siren of hail and brimstone. In modern times, she was simply Mrs. Willoby, senior school secretary.

"I received a note to come see you," Bianca spoke, trying to keep her voice from wavering.

"The Professor asked that you help prepare for the upcoming field trip. The students this Tuesday are making their annual pilgrimage to Salem Falls to view the reconstructed New England village." Mrs. Willoby tapped a yellow envelope on the desk impatiently, her nose scrunched as though she detected a foul odor in the room.

"But, I mean, ok, it is Saturday?" Bianca tried not to blush, her body murmuring wordless thoughts.

"Yes, it is in fact Saturday, Ms. Vergini. Your understanding of the calender is impeccable. Here are your instructions, a map is enclosed, please use the school car, the Fiesta. Professor Montgomery was very clear about his wishes."

"But." Her words drifted aimlessly as Mrs. Willoby turned away to face the computer screen.

______

Moving along the worn dirt path, Bianca brooded about the other cars in the parking lot. In addition to her Fiesta, and the Professor's Lexus, there was an older Audi, and a Prelude. Both resembled cars she has seen before in the faculty parking lot, although she could not be sure. The map directed her through a cluster of birch trees past a sign post; "Old Salem Town Square ahead, 0.5 miles." She recalled visits as a child and the strange rituals of Town Square. Despite her reservations, her pace picked up.

The arch of trees faded to a neatly mowed circle of lawn. The morning tasted of hay and spreading blue sky. The sun above the tree line warmed her skin, her thin cotton blouse floating over small beads of sweat. Her legs exposed, barely covered by the hem of her red plaid skirt. A buzz of anticipation in her ears, she smiled briefly, looking down and admiring the pull of sheer cotton across her breasts, and the vulnerable bare flesh of her thigh. "He needs to come up with new outfits," she thought, enjoying the soft push of grass as she walked across the field towards the Center House.

Oak timbers pieced together in a one story white rectangular meeting hall. At the entrance a ten foot tall pair of wood paneled doors, surrounded on either side by Georgian white columns. The air was still, hesitant. She pushed open the door and walked into a dark hallway.

"Charming, isn't it Ms. Vergini? You are late."

She recognized the Professor's stern tone as he stepped from behind a door carved with a Calvinist cross. "Sorry, Sir; I, um, I came as soon as I got your message."

"Step inside." He led her down a dimly lit hallway.

"My instructions were explicit. Be here at 10 sharp."

"But Professor, I did not even receive the message until 8:30, how was I supposed to know, it takes an hour to drive here, it's Saturday morning."

He stopped, and turning, leaning towards her, his jaw jutting forward. "You must always be prepared to obey. Tardiness has consequences. You recognize the setting."

"Yes, of course, the Central House, a replica of a 17 century New England village."

"Very good Ms. Vergini, at least you have done your reading. You understand the role of the Center House?" He peered down at her over the top of his glasses.

"Yes, I mean, I am not sure what you mean Professor." Bianca stood stiff straight, her arms crossed behind her back, her face and chest flushed bright red.

He paused, enjoying the heat of her embarrassment, "The political and religious climates of this era were oppressive. Disobedience was sharply punished."

She paused for a moment before answering. "The trials were held in the Court of Oyer and Terminer, to hear and decide. The commissioners, the town elders, lay judgment on all aspects of life, from criminal activity to social indiscretions. The courts were all powerful, and at times were caught up in religious fervor."

He nodded, "Perhaps they were acting responsibly. Dissent corrupts the purity of a young woman's soul. Especially young ladies who disobey their elders."

Blushing, her words were momentarily lost.

"Well Ms. Vergini, out with it."

"Sir, Puritan society was harsh towards women. If you were not chaste, you would be punished."

"Yes, expectations were high. Virtue and obedience were valued, a simpler time. There were tragedies and mistakes of course. Headstrong zealots succumbed to mass hysteria. Yet in those times women of virtue recognized the need for the firm hand of discipline, even those of excessive spirit. Much like yourself don't you think?"

"Sir?"

The hallway came to an end, and the Professor pushed on circular face carved into the wall. "A graven image," he said, smiling. The wall swung outwards into a hidden courtyard. He pushed ahead, stepping behind a stone fence.

She followed, lowering her eyes against the glare of sunlight. Turning the corner, she gasped. The Professor stood next to a medieval pillory. Her mind flashed to images of the Scarlet Letter, convicted adulterers wearing the red letter A on their chest, their hands and neck clamped between the wooden frame, at the mercy of tormentors and sadists.

Catching her breath and composure, she spoke, "I am innocent of wrongdoing."

She turned, intent on walking back inside, but the Professor firmly took her hands. "You are slut in need of punishment."

Leading her to the stocks, he lifted the upper wooden frame, "Bend over." She leaned forward, resting her neck and wrists in the circular carved-out slots. As she took a breath he swung down the hinged wood beam and latched it in place.

Stepping back, he watched her legs tremble. Buried in the ground by her feet were two metal supports, each securing a chain that held an iron ring. Kneeling down, he tied each of her feet to one of the rings, forcing her stance outwards, her weight shifting forward into the stocks.

The Professor stood back, enjoying how her skirt pulled up over her hips, exposing lacy white panties. As he watched, her hips began to shift, and he could see wetness seeping through the cotton swath stretched over her cunt.

"Nasty slut," he intoned. His hand reached out, his fingertip running over the curve of her ass. Grabbing her panties, he ripped downwards with a violent jerk. A shudder rippled through her, and a low guttural moan sang from deep within her chest.

Stepping around the stocks, he wiped the sweat from her forehead with the torn underwear. "Open your mouth," he commanded. She obeyed, and he gagged her with the panties. "The only sound anyone to be heard from you will be whore groans of pleasure." Her eyes looked upwards. Undoing his tie, he blindfolded her. "Some of those violating you may prefer to remain anonymous," he whispered, stroking her hair.

She heard his footsteps walking away. Her skin stung where the panties had been ripped away; the air cold against the wetness dripping down the inside of her thighs. Totally exposed, she tried to move her head, hoping for a flash of light or a familiar sound. The moment extended, her body twisting like the string of a cello being tightened and plucked.

"What a luscious piece of naughty candy." A deep male voice jarred Bianca. She tried to talk, but could only mumble through the gag. Rough ringers slid across her buttocks, squeezing the back of her thighs. A powerful slap on her ass jolted her.

"Shameless whore. My cock will enjoy being buried in your sweet cunt. But first, let's see the talents of that slut mouth."

A hand stroked her hair. The muscles in her body froze. Fingers wrapped themselves in her hair, and then pulled sharply, a brief jolt of pain. The panties were plucked from her mouth, and as she gasped a deep breath, the swollen head of a cock traced her lips.

"Suck my knob." As she opened her mouth to protest, the cock plunged in, buried in her throat. A hand clutching her head guided her mouth as he fucked her face. "God yes, you suck like a starving whore. The Professor is quite gracious in sharing your sweet prizes."

Bianca stretched her lips and throat trying to inhale his swollen rod in her mouth. She found a rhythm, her jaw relaxing, her tongue swirling, and hearing a groan, she felt his manhood swell. The hand twisted her hair and held her tight, her nose buried as she swallowed him completely. She was aware of guttural breathing, grunts of pleasure. She quivered and shook, rocking in place. Suddenly, the cock slipped from her mouth, and a hand shoved the panties back in, gagging her.

Silence hovered, a trickle of wetness leaking steadily from her pussy. She tasted precum on her tongue; her jawed ached, remembering his hardness pounding in her mouth.

"She's a good little fuck isn't she?"

She tried to turn her head to the voice, wondering how many there were. Fingers wrapped and wound the cloth of her blouse, pulling tight and with a hard pull, ripped it off. Bianca flushed, exposed, her nipples hardened, her pussy gushing, her soft breasts swaying as she tried to move her tethered legs.

The flat palm landed on her ass checks, "Such tender young flesh." Hot breath and the firm push of tongue split her cunt lips. She groaned, trying to thrust her hips backwards, the swirling heat of tongue rippling along her spine, teasing her pussy, licking and plying. A thumb slide into her asshole as the tongue swirled and probed.

The mouth on her pussy pulled away, leaving her begging for relief. Hands squeezed her hips, spreading her cheeks. And a cock slammed into her cunt. Her ensnared hips pushed back, accepting the pounding hips crashing into her from behind. A hand spanked her ass. The frenzied pounding phallus in her cunt picked up in tempo, plunging and releasing, again and again and again.

Catching her breath, she felt hot red handprints burning her ass. Forbidden images and words drifted in her mind as though released from the bottom of a murky swamp. She loved being violated, treated as an object, a cumslut, a fuck toy. The cock pulled out, the anonymous savages who ravaged her slipped away, leaving her hanging from the stocks wondering whether she had been drugged and left in an erotic dream.

Lost in her own revelry, no longer worried who or what would come next, she was startled by the sound of the Professor's voice. "You seem well satisfied Slut; being pounded with strange cocks seems to agree with you."

"Please, Sir, I am at your mercy."

"You shall please me young lady, but first let me clean you up."

He removed the blindfold; leaving her locked helplessly in the stocks. The daylight momentarily blinded her. She squinted, trying to focus. The cold splash of water surprised her as a wet cloth gently sponged her mouth and chin. He stepped behind the stocks, and she felt the cold wetness of the cloth on her ass, stroking down between her cheeks and over her thighs. The cloth moved to her back, cleansing and scrubbing. She heard the cloth drop in a bucket, and the sounds of the Professor reaching down. A sharp jolt of cold made her shutter. An ice cube began to trace circles and lines on her back and shoulders. She felt him pressing against her, the warmth of his aroused cock a contrast to the prickle of ice on her skin. Reaching around, he rubbed the ice over her nipples. Her pussy gushed expectantly. A cold finger slid into her anus.

She groaned, and the Professor laughed, "I saved your sweet ass for myself."

"But, I have never, we have never, I mean, not there."

He pushed in another finger, stretching her. "I love your perfectly sculpted ass, the luscious curves taunt me, inviting me." He slid a third finger into her asshole.

Sighing, still captive, her only awareness was on the stretching and probing of his fingers. She concentrated on breathing, remembering how large he was, and imagined the girth of his monster stretching her. He removed his fingers. The head of his lubricated cock pressed against her crinkly rosebud. He pushed. She tried to push back against him, her feet and body still trapped. A sharp pain opened her eyes. She moaned, tensing up.

"Breath," he commanded, his voice low and distracted. He pushed harder and she felt a pop as the bulbous head pressed inside, the muscular ring of her sphincter gripping the sides of his cock.

"Oh God, please, Jesus, oh shit, " she muttered, trying to accept his penetration.

He stopped pushing, allowing her to adjust. The moments passed and he felt her relax.

"Go ahead, slowly," she murmured.

He slowly moved his pelvis forward, keeping a steady pressure, pulling her hips into his, inching his way in, watching her asshole spread and submit until his cock was completely buried in her ass.

"Oh shit, oh shit, wow, that's fucking intense, do it, dammit do it," she begged.

"Do what?" he barked.

"Please, fuck me, pound your big cock inside me."

"Are you my ass slut?" He held her still, feeling his cock swell inside her anal grip.

"Oh yes, please Sir, please Daddy, please Master, fuck my virgin ass."

Drawing himself back, the Professor watched as his cock slid back, her tiny asshole stretched and ravished, and he pushed back in. Back and forth, sawing his cock inside her, harder and harder, pulling her hips, pounding into her.

A primal guttural moan escaped from deep within Bianca, her mind lost in sensations, rippling shockwaves of pain and pleasure, each nerve ending echoing with desire. Lost within herself, surrendering to his passion, she moved as one with his thrusting, an electric current ran between them. She could feel his cock swell; the surging blood engorged pumping of his erection, tiny pulsations building in waves, a cascading pulse vibrating against the tight grasp of her rectum. His fingertips dug hard into her hips, embedding his cock more deeply inside until there was no more him or her, just a single pulsating trembling beast lost in the frenzy of lust. He yelled out a warrior's scream of conquest and battle, and she purred cries of joy as the warm spew of his seed exploded into her bowels.

____

Bianca walked next to the Professor, his coat covering her torn blouse and soiled skirt.

"Perhaps I should drive you back?" he asked, opening her car door.

"I don't know that I trust you, my mom told me not to accept rides with strange men."

"Your mother is a wise woman," he grinned.

"So, it was really just you, right? You were pretending to be the others?" Bianca looked up at him, eyes wide.

He kissed her forehead. "Do not be late for school tomorrow Ms. Vergini."