A modern retelling of a classic story from a time long past. Following in the footsteps of Tiffany Daniels, Kylie Morgan stars in her own story. In the end, it's a classic blackmail story within a modern setting. AI-assisted story telling. All characters are over the age of 18.

Here is the edited version of chapter 4. Once again, greatly expanded and revamped. Same plot and themes, but better! I hope you enjoy the updated version and let me know if you liked it!

Chapter 4

Friday night disappeared in a blur, and Kylie slept for what seemed like an eternity. She woke up at noon on Saturday essentially in the same position she fell asleep on Friday night. Her room was bright with light as the sun percolated through the blinds, contrary to the darkness that typically welcomed her with her alarm in the early morning. Through bleary eyes she glanced at her nightstand clock and blinked. Noon?! Holy cow, I slept for like fourteen hours! she thought, while her body finished waking up. She scrubbed her face with her hands and worked moisture back into her mouth before sitting up.

Kylie’s mouth was dry from sleeping for so long. She licked her chapped lips and swallowed, but a painful reminder of yesterday spread through her jaw and throat. The ache made her grimace and purse her lips as the memory of the men using her flickered behind her eyes.

She didn’t get out of bed right away, just sat and tried to think of nothing. But the memories kept creeping back in, like the poles of a magnet, getting too close. She grabbed her phone, opting to scroll social media, not quite ready to deal with the day just yet. The endless flicking distracted her thoughts just enough to avoid any real contemplation. “Cute kitty”, she mumbled to herself as she tapped like.

She commented “Love it!” on a friend's outfit and liked another picture of a cat. The next scroll auto played–a video of a girl vaulting off a pommel horse to a catchy pop song as motivating words filtered across the lower edge. She scrolled past it and the next video started with a group of students pranking their teacher by dressing exactly like him. “Stupid,” she mumbled to herself. With a huff she closed the app and put her phone down.

She kicked her blanket off her legs and scooted forward to get out of bed. Her hamstrings spasmed slightly as she stood, another small reminder of her situation. I gotta pee! she noticed as her bladder decided to make its demands known as she shuffled to the door.

She slipped out of her room and went across the hall. Her little brother's high pitched laughing voice percolated up the stairs as she slipped inside. She glanced at herself in the mirror as she was washing her hands. Her hair was frizzy and messy, and her eyes were still sleep-filled. She quickly washed her face to avoid her reflection. Still full of guilt and shame, she gave a quick glance toward the shower before she headed downstairs.

“There’s my sleepyhead!” her mother said, looking up from a book, when she descended the stairs. “I knew you were tired after dinner last night, you seemed miles away, so I figured it was best to just let you sleep in!” Her mother’s face held genuine warmth and that alone brightened Kylie’s mood. “Breakfast is in the fridge, if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks Mom,” Kylie replied, “I don’t think I’ve slept so long ever, it was just a rough week at school, with practice for regionals and all that. I’m still pretty tired!” I’m exhausted! she added to herself. She did everything she could to hide her true emotions, and presented a cheery, outwardly normal appearance. And it worked. Her mother turned back to her book without a second look.

Her little brother decided at that moment to run out of the downstairs bathroom and slapped Kylie’s legs with wet hands. “I forgot to dry my hands!” he giggled, unable to control his laughter as he looked at the wet prints on her pajamas. It was his idea of the ultimate practical joke.

In spite of everything, Kylie giggled back and chased after him as he screeched. “Oh, I’m going to get you!” she proclaimed as he sprinted toward where their mother was sitting. He hurled himself on the couch and tried to hide behind her as Kylie pursued him. Her mother yelped as the water from his arms and hands soaked through her clothes.

“She can’t protect you forever!” Kylie said seriously, “One day, soon, I’ll get you!”

Her brother screeched again and tried to dig further into the couch. “Nooooo! Don’t let her get me, Mom!” He giggled again, highlighting that he didn’t feel bad in the slightest about his practical joke.

The rest of the day flowed like a usual weekend. Kylie busied herself as best she could to avoid thinking about anything. She helped around the house, surprising her mother when she did more work than her usual chores. Whenever she was alone, her hands shot to her phone, usually to text Maya or endlessly scroll Instagram. That evening, she spent extra time playing video games with her sister, Lisa, and took it slower than usual instead of rushing through the levels. Anything to avoid dealing with those memories.

That night, she couldn’t fall asleep. Maybe I should have gotten up earlier, she thought to herself as she tried to count the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling again. The old trick she had used since she was little failed to help her now. Alone in the darkness, Kylie was all too aware of the tightness in her throat and that her body seemed to be just too sensitive. Her pajamas refused to sit comfortably, tossing and turning did nothing, and her blanket felt too warm. It’s too hot in here, she thought as she pushed her comforter aside.

With a sigh and a quick scrub of her face with her hands, she got out of bed and headed to the kitchen. She swung open the cabinet above the stove and grabbed a bag of chocolate chips, then a small bowl from the one above the dishwasher. She fished around in a third cabinet until her hand closed around the jar of peanut butter. A few spoonfuls later, she loaded the chocolate peanut butter concoction into the microwave and pressed the number one. She stared at the display and counted down the numbers as the microwave hummed.

As the timer dwindled to their finale, she stopped the microwave with just a second left, to avoid the beep, then pulled the bowl out of the microwave. She grabbed a spoon and plopped down on the couch in the living room, tucking her legs underneath her and took tiny little bites of the sweet goop after opening Netflix on her phone. She smashed the 10 second skip button whenever a romantic scene graced the small screen.

A few hours later, she finally returned to her room, popped in her ear buds, cranked up the music volume, and got back into bed. She fell into a fitful sleep full of dreams that she couldn’t remember.

Sunday was worse, filled with anxiety and a foreboding heaviness that Kylie couldn’t seem to shake off. With a knot in her stomach, she went through the day, trying, like yesterday, to keep herself busy. I’m not ready for Monday, she thought to herself as she sat on the couch, unable to pay attention to the rerun of her favorite TV show. She found herself constantly scrolling her phone, but the algorithms seemed to know her shame, constantly showing her content that seemed tailor made to highlight teenagers at school. She rolled her eyes at a stupid “ranking the best pranks” video that started with a group of teenage boys throwing water balloons of shaving cream at cheerleaders during practice yelling, “Creamed!!!” The cheerleaders let out over-the-top shrieks of indignation as she sighed and swiped the app away.

The day seemed to drag by, but at the same time, also seemed to move too quickly. Sunday progressed like a slow-motion replay when her thoughts dominated her mind, interspersed with the blur of activity that heralded the end of the weekend. It was approaching too fast. Whenever there was a momentary lapse in activity or distractions, the memories came tumbling back. The memory of Harrington holding her in his lap with his hands on her chest as she tried to get away made her pulse quicken, and she tried to distract herself with her phone. The one with his hard penis pushing into her mouth causing her to gag made her throat tighten while she was sitting on the couch watching tv. And finally, reliving the dual assault where she was laid out on his desk as her back arched while she struggled to breathe with Jameson’s penis in her mouth sent goosebumps across her entire body. Worst of all was the shameful memory of what she did after the men had their fun. “I’m never doing that again!” she mumbled to herself, supremely aware of her flushing face, as she scrubbed a baking sheet in the sink after helping her mom bake cookies. They might be making me do the other stuff, but I’m never doing THAT again!

Kylie headed up to her room later that evening and changed into her pajamas. A quick walk across the hallway took her to the bathroom, where she brushed her teeth and brushed her hair. She moisturized, applying generous dabs of cream to her cheeks and forehead. The large dab on her cheek started to run down and she quickly swiped it with a finger. It looked like semen, she realized with a grimace. Oh, come on! she thought angrily as she started to massage the cream into her face vigorously. Unbidden, the scene of her second blowjob, but the first she could remember, shot through her mind. She remembered the video of Harrington's cum dripping down her face as she knelt before him on all fours. So stupid, this is so stupid, why is this happening to me? Why didn’t I just study hard, why can’t I just be smarter, so this never happened?!

She finished rubbing the moisturizing cream into her face in a huff, angry at herself for letting this all happen, before she flicked off the light and went back to her bedroom. She grabbed her bag, quickly checking that she had all of her school supplies and gymnastics gear. After packing her bag for the morning, she pulled out her clothes for the morning, then straightened the stuff on her desk. She eventually popped her ear buds back in and climbed into bed. Turning up the volume again, she scrolled aimlessly again, until her eyelids finally grew heavy and she drifted off to sleep.

—

A firm knock on her door jerked her awake. “It’s already seven, Honey,” her mother’s voice drifted through the door. She peered at the clock and realized she overslept, wondering why her alarm hadn’t gone off.

“Ugh,” she moaned as she sat up, and her ear buds plopped down onto her blanket, “I am going to be late!” She jumped out of bed and quickly got dressed in a sleep filled haze. Her pajamas hit the floor as she shrugged out of them and pulled up her panties and skirt, then fished for a bra and quickly tugged it on. Her shirt and hoodie followed before she sat back down to put on her socks and shoes. She pulled her hair into a messy ponytail on her way to the kitchen where she grabbed a granola bar for breakfast.

“That’s not a good breakfast, Kylie!” her mother said as she fisted the bar and turned toward the front door.

“Love you, bye!” Kylie called to her mom as she hurried out to her car.

I didn’t even get time to brush my teeth! she groaned to herself as she sped into the school parking lot. The granola bar she ate on the way left a cloyingly sweet taste in her mouth and she swallowed a few times to clear it away. Her throat only hurt a little today and she quickly drove the thought from her mind as she got out of her car and jogged up the steps to the school.

She made it to her first period just after the morning bell sounded. “Cutting it close, Kylie.” Mrs. Culvert said cheerily from the front of the classroom. Kylie slid into her seat next to Maya, who promptly made a shocked face at her. Kylie just smiled back.

At her locker after class, Kylie stared blankly inside. Amid the usual clutter, a single folded slip of paper, identical to last week’s, sat perched atop her textbooks.

“I have to peeeeeeeeeee, so bad!” Maya tittered as she shuffled and headed down the hall, crushing her overly large energy drink can in her hands.

“Maybe you should stop drinking that Pixie Spunk!” Kylie retorted at her friend's back as she skittered away. She pulled her attention away from the note in her locker as Maya left.

Naturally, a random boy heard and called out, “I have some spunk for you!” as he watched Maya dart toward the girls’ restroom.

“Your spunk is too weak, little boy!” Maya retorted as she disappeared with a twirl behind the closing door.

With Maya gone, Kylie’s attention snapped back to her locker. She reached in to grab the note. Her fingers brushed it and a flare of dread coursed through her guts. With trembling hands, she unfolded it. "Have fun at practice today," it read. The same plain font as the first note stared up at her. What does that even mean?! she thought as she crumpled the note up and shoved it deep into her pocket.

Kylie waited for Maya to finish up in the restroom, and they headed toward their next class. Maya burst through the door and headed to her usual seat and Kylie slinked in behind her, trying to avoid attention. She held her breath and kept her eyes down as she sat down, refusing to look toward the front of the classroom where Jameson stood watching students filter into the classroom.

Jameson’s smooth voice slithered through Shakespearean analysis after the class began. Kylie hunched over her notebook, sketching frantic spirals, trying her best to ignore the lecture. Then Jameson paused and his gaze sliced toward her like a scalpel as he cleared his throat. She dared a quick peek toward the front of the room.

"Much like Lady Macbeth’s futile cleaning of imaginary stains," he mused, eyes locked onto hers. His smirk widened faintly as she looked away in haste. "Some compulsion remains... Undeniable. Even amidst…” he paused, letting the word hang, "Convulsing guilt. Or perhaps…" he added softly, leaning on his desk, "a stolen climax buried deep."

Kylie flinched as if struck, her pen gouging the paper, feeling herself flush.

When the bell finally rang, it felt like a boiler's safety valve cracking open, bleeding away the pressure that had been mounting all morning. She bolted from her seat, shoving past startled classmates, fleeing into the quickly filling hall. She didn’t wait for Maya as she hurried to her locker, breathing hard as she leaned her forehead against the cool metal. Breathe, just take deep breaths…

Kylie made it through her remaining classes on autopilot until the final bell rang. Jameson’s taunting words hung in her mind, constantly reminding her of her own shame as she slid her notebook and pen into her bag at the end of the school day. Just get through practice, then I can go home, just get through practice, then I can go home, she repeated to herself as she made her final approach to her locker to put away her books. She slammed the locker shut, then turned toward the exit that led to the gymnasium.

Harrington materialized beside the exit doors like summoned smoke as she reached for the push bar.

Kylie froze mid-stride, her breath catching. "Going somewhere, Miss Morgan?" his voice cut through the dwindling hallway chatter. His hand rested on the door.

"I-I have to get to practice, Mr. Harrington," she stammered, “C-coach gets mad when we’re late…”

He tutted softly, his hand gesturing away from the door. "Don’t worry, I’ll chat with her. She’ll have to wait a few minutes. In here now," he murmured, steering her toward a janitorial closet. She stumbled as he pushed her inside. He followed her in and the door clicked shut behind them. Dim light illuminated them both, and the musty odor of wet cotton and chemical cleaner hung thick in the air. Harrington gently pushed her against cold metal shelves as Kylie braced her hands on the sturdy rack.

"Let’s have a quick review of your instructions from Friday,” he said quietly. “Are you wearing panties?"

Kylie grimaced at the question. Oh no, she thought, remembering suddenly when he had told her that she didn’t get to wear panties anymore as she was laid out on his desk. She huddled closer to the metal rack, her shoulders hunched, “I... I didn’t… I thought you… I didn’t remember this morning…” she whimpered as her mind spun, trying to find an explanation. Harrington simply waited as she squirmed. She knew she was trapped and finally whispered in a quiet, defeated voice, “Yes.”

He chuckled, dark and soft. “And here I thought you were trying to be a good girl, Miss Morgan,” he sternly said. “Apparently, you’d like to be a bad girl instead.” He shifted his stance, sliding his hand into his pocket and pulled out something she couldn’t see.

Kylie whimpered and tried to squeeze further into the shelf. “I’m sorry, I won’t forget again. Please let me go to practice,” she begged.

"Bad behavior has consequences, Miss Morgan. And consequences serve as reminders." He tugged on her bag, pulling her bodily away from the shelf. Then his hand reached forward and lightly fell around the back of her neck. "Now bend over," he ordered, “hands around your ankles, push your ass into the air.”

Tears shot from Kylie’s eyes as she felt his hand pushing her head down. He’s going to do it, oh my gosh, he’s going to do it. “Please don’t, I’m sorry I forgot, I won’t forget again, please I’m sorry,” she babbled, “Please... Don’t… put it in me…” The final words come out as sobs.

Harrington smirked as he held onto the trembling gymnast, “Silly girl, I’m not going to fuck you,” he said, leaving the yet unspoken, “There’s hardly room in here for that.” He applied a little more downward force on her neck and Kylie felt herself lower further down. “But I have to teach you a lesson, to help you remember,” he whispered harshly. “Hands on your ankles. Now. Be a good girl again.”

Kylie let herself be pushed down mechanically while she whimpered like a lamb. Her bag slid around her torso and hung next to her head as she wrapped her hands around her ankles. She held on for dear life, squeezing her eyes closed as tears slipped from her eyelids. Her cute butt was popped up high and her powerful hamstrings, still slightly sore, flexed as her skirt pulled up her smooth ass. Harrington released her nape and then she felt both of his hands slide up the back of her thighs as he dragged her skirt up and over her backside to bunch on her lower back.

Harrington gripped one of her cheeks in his hand and massaged her toned ass vigorously, making her squirm. He thumbed the latch on the pocket knife he pulled from his slacks and the small blade shot out with a snick. Kylie flinched at the sound and when the cool metal touched her skin making her head bump into the shelf, unsure what was happening. “Hold still, Miss Morgan. We wouldn’t want any accidents,” he said as he slid the sleek metal blade between her skin and the fabric of her panties and pulled up. Kylie yelped, bumping her head again as the blade sliced through the peach-colored cotton, peeling open to reveal her firm cheek. “I said hold still.” He continued slicing until he reached the elastic band and quickly cut through it with a flick. Then he repeated the process on her other cheek, letting her ruined panties fall off her ass and catch between her muscular thighs.

Kylie’s quivering backside stared up at Harrington as he drank in her helplessness. Her little rosebud flexed when the air from the room tickled her skin as she gasped for breath. Harrington once again resisted the urge to lower his mouth to her, to consume her tight holes completely, to explore and desecrate her innocence with his tongue. Instead, he closed his pocketknife and slid it back into his pocket and pulled out a small tube in its place. He pulled her ruined panties from between her trembling legs and slid them into jacket, then said, “Now, to help you remember..." He popped the lid on the tube with his thumb and squeezed a generous amount of icy-blue gel onto his fingers before snapping the tube closed and sliding it back into his pocket.

The smell of menthol spread into Kylie’s nose and her eyes flew open, “What is that...?” she asked in a panicked little voice. A light swat of her asscheek stopped any further questions as Harrington shushed her.

His slick fingers slid to her mound and spread the cool gel around her labia. Kylie gritted her teeth as he slathered the coldness around her delicate pussy lips, and she yelped again when he slid a finger inside. She wiggled her hips involuntarily as the freezing gel began to tingle her skin. Harrington pulled his finger from her cunt and then pinched and massaged her clit vigorously. She gasped despite herself and little sparks tingled through her.

Kylie didn’t get much time to enjoy the sparks once they morphed into an intense burning cold before his fingers slid across her perineum and moved to her little asshole. “No, no, no, no!” she bleated and dropped her hips low to pull away from his touch.

“Stop squirming, Miss Morgan, and take your penance,” Harrington commanded as he slapped her ass with his other hand. “Get your ass back up here or I’ll email your parents your latest video.”

Her attention snapped to his threatening words, and she slowly raised her hips back up to his waiting hands, as the tingling burn of the gel coursed through her crotch. It’s burning! Oh my gosh! Kylie flexed her thighs and her glutes fired up as the icy sensation flared. “Ooohhh,” she groaned, wishing she could just run away or do literally anything else to stop his hands.

Harrington returned his fingers to her ass cheeks and massaged her curves again. Once more, he slid his slick fingers between them and circled them over her perfect, tight cinnamon ring. He breathed out a husky hum as he felt her sphincter flex and tighten to prevent any intrusion. Then, he chuckled as he drew his fingers up her crevice to her lower back before finally lifting his hand away.

“Good girl,” he chuckled as he pulled his finger away. He watched her asshole involuntarily clenched where his fingers rubbed. As a last torment, he gently slapped both of her cheeks, making her yelp again. “Have fun at practice today,” he said as he wiped his hands on a rag from the shelf, pulled the door open and left.

Kylie shrieked as the door opened and closed, flooding the closet with brighter light momentarily. She quickly scrambled upright and pulled her skirt back down to cover herself. Her hips quivered as the gel continued stinging her crotch. Hot ice tore through her pussy and ass as her vaginal muscles clenched repeatedly, trying to push whatever was causing the irritation away. Her clit throbbed intensely as waves of ice and fire coursed through. She felt sweat prickle over her entire body as she squirmed in place.

In a panic, she grabbed a handful of paper towels and tried to wipe herself, but the friction made the burning sensation flare up worse with each pass. “Oh my gosh,” she whispered to the tiny closet, “Ughhhh.” She hunched over as an intense wave shot through her asshole before dulling to a persistent cool warmth. A text alert from her phone startled her, echoing in the tiny room. She grabbed her phone from her bag, grateful for any distraction.

“Um, where r u, coach is pissed!” the text from Maya read.

“Be right there! I got held up,” she typed back. AND HE PUT ICY HOT ON MY VAGINA AND BUTT! she screamed to herself.

Kylie dropped her phone back into her bag and steadied herself. She cracked the door open and peeked outside. Her hips and glutes still flexed on their own as she widened the gap and squeezed outside into the empty hallway. Harrington was nowhere to be found, and she trotted awkwardly through the hall to the gym doors. Each step bounced her skirt and sent air between her legs, slightly amplifying the sensations of the gel on her pussy and asshole.

Inside the gym, Kylie limbered up desperately in her practice leotard, stretching her hamstrings deeper than usual to distract from the icy burn searing her privates. The gel felt like frostbite layered over embers, a cruel reminder masquerading as a "lesson." She dropped her head to her shins, stretching her legs to the max and let out a deep sigh. Sweat prickled all over her body, despite the lack of exertion. A faint aroma of menthol percolated up into her nostrils as she focused on the stretch of her muscles.

Maya bounced over on the balls of her feet, adjusting her cobalt leotard straps and repositioning the tight Lyrica fabric over her chest. "Ugh, Coach Miller has us running sprints after beam drills!" she groaned, oblivious. "And guess what? Ezra finally asked me out! He wants to take me to that new pizza place Friday!" Maya beamed.

Kylie forced a smile as she rose from her deep stretch. A tiny stream of distracted relief spread through her at the mundane chatter, anything to drown out the frigid burn between her legs. "That’s... Awesome, Maya," she managed, focusing on Maya’s excited bouncing instead of the lingering throb between her legs.

By the time Coach Miller made her way to Kylie, the icy burn had lessened to a dull throbbing reminder. “Late, Morgan,” she said seriously. Kylie tried to utter an explanation, but Miller cut her off. “No excuses, double duty on the routine today. Everyone’s running laps because you can’t show up on time! This is a team! When you forget your responsibilities, everyone gets to deal with the consequences!”

Kylie looked away from her coach and mumbled an apology. She stoically took her starting pose for her floor routine, arms lifted, chin held high as her gaze instinctively swept the near-empty bleachers. She imagined them full of throngs of people like she usually did to prepare for actual meets. She let out a tiny gasp when her eyes fell across Harrington, casually leaning against the exit doors, watching her. What is he doing here?! Hasn’t he been mean enough already?!

The haunting Irish melody for her routine began and Kylie launched into her sequence. And promptly stumbled as a warm flare shot through her groin. She braced herself and straightened, posing like a statue again, then continued with the next sequence– a leap, a pirouette, then a cartwheel–but her landing faltered again as her legs wobbled.

Coach Miller’s sharp voice sliced through the music: "Landing’s loose, Morgan! Stop squirming so much!" Kylie’s eyes flickered to her coach’s as she continued her routine. “You’re not on fire, Morgan, stop twitching and let it flow!” her coach shouted.

Kylie stumbled into her next tumbling pass, the icy burn peaking with each impact. Her mind flashed to her groin, and she faltered mid aerial walkover and crashed gracelessly onto the spring floor as her legs flopped beside her prone body. She inhaled sharply as the impact rattled her teeth and sweat dripped onto the floor.

“What the ever-living hell was that, Morgan?” Miller shouted, starting towards Kylie. “I thought you were good at this, but you’re not showing that today. Get up and start over!” she said seriously. “Maybe if you bothered to show up on time, you wouldn’t have had to rush your warmups!”

When Kylie looked up from her crumpled position on the spring floor, Harrington was gone. Maybe I'm just imagining things, she thought to herself. She scanned the bleachers and exits, but he was nowhere to be found. Kylie pushed herself up onto her hands and knees and shivered as the diminishing tingle of the gel still lingered. She felt a trickle of minty sweat meander down her thighs from her crotch.

Miller reached her, whistle bouncing against her chest. "Get up! Focus!" She jabbed a finger toward Kylie’s rear as she struggled to rise. "And tuck those glutes tighter; you’re flaring like a damn peacock again! It’s costing you all your stability!" Humiliation scorched Kylie’s cheeks hotter than the gel’s burn. “This isn’t some stage, stop popping your butt out for the world to see!”

Jaw clenched at the debasement, Kylie shoved herself upright. She inhaled sharply, locking her trembling muscles and started again, trying to concentrate on the routine and not the now faint tingle between her legs. For the finale, she puffed out a breath, pushing a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of her tight bun from her eyes, and hurled herself into a double back tuck. She twisted and spun through the air before landing hard, ankles jarring, but mostly vertical with her hands above her.

Miller watched her closely, and shook her head, “Better, but not good enough.” Miller sounded disappointed as she turned away and blew her whistle. The movement of the girls in the gym subsided as they all turned toward their coach. “Laps, now. When one of you is late, you all get the deal with it. Now go!”

A mortified Kylie felt everyone’s eyes snap to her, as she tried to become as small as possible. She turned away from their looks and shuffled toward Maya, who stood near the pommel horse with a frown on her face. Maya gave Kylie a sincere reassuring look and together they started their jog around the perimeter of the gym. It’s not my fault! I would have been here on time if he hadn’t stopped me! Kylie thought as she turned the corner, I was going to be on time!

Together, the two girls made their laps around the perimeter of the gym. Maya prattled about Ezra and ice cream, while Kylie listened and received glares from the other girls. She did her best to ignore them and just kept moving, feeling relieved that the gel she was slathered with finally faded away. Minutes later, Miller's whistle echoed through the gym, letting the girls know their punishment was over. Kylie hunched over with her hands on her knees, breathing hard and staring at her feet as trickles of sweat ran down her temples.

“Damn girl, why are you so wet!” Maya giggled, standing next to Kylie. Maya tugged Kylie toward the locker room. “Bestie, are you dissolving? It was just laps around the gym and you're gushing!” Maya blurted out, wiping her hand over Kylie’s sweat-damped arm as they made their way to the far end of the gym. Kylie stayed silent, unwilling to acknowledge her current moist disposition.

The locker room echoed with chatter that quickly bled away as the other girls fled back through the doors after changing. Maya yanked her hoodie over her gymnastics suit, but her sweat-damped head stuck to the hood and covered her eyes. “Yer a wizard, Kylie!” she quoted in a husky Scottish accent. She giggled at her own joke as she pulled the hood off her face.

“I’m a what?” Kylie responded naturally as a small smile cracked her face.

“I have exactly ten minutes to get home before I transform into a couch potato,” Maya declared as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “Mmm, potatoes!”

“Boil em’, mash em’, Stick em’ in a stew!” Kylie quoted back to her friend and they both giggled as Maya bounced on her feet, turning toward the exit.

“Stupid fat coaches! They ruined it!” she quipped in a high-pitched guttural voice, halfway to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Kylie smiled at Maya and her silliness. Maya always turned any situation cheerful with her bubbly personality, and insanely enough, today was no exception. “I’m going to cool down a bit more, but I’ll text you later!”

“Smart! Beat back those DOMs!” Maya chirped with a big smile and an exaggerated flex of her arms, already moving toward the door again. “Can’t let the sore muscles win!” she said as she gave an exaggerated wave before disappearing into the hallway.

Kylie grabbed her bag and headed straight for the showers, jumping into the farthest one–her now usual stall. She urgently stripped out of her wet leotard and cranked the knob as the lukewarm water jetted out. After a moment, water pelted her skin and she frantically scrubbed at her thighs, trying to rinse away the lingering residue of her reminder. It’s not like I can forget now! she thought as she rubbed roughly wherever the minty gel had run down her legs with her sweat.

She filled her hands with soap and washed herself, cleaning away the sweat and the residue. Her hands hesitated slightly, then gently slid to her crotch, lightly brushing her labia. Her tender, ultra-sensitive skin reacted to her touch, and she shivered at the sensation. “No!” she hissed to herself under the spray, forcing the feeling away as she cleaned herself. Kylie scrubbed quickly, making sure to scrub anywhere the gel had been. Why did he put it on my butt, she thought as she rinsed her rosebud. That’s so disgusting!

A quick turn of the knob shut off the water, leaving Kylie dripping as she fished for her towel and quickly dried off. She just wanted to go home and forget about the day. She stepped out of the stall and quickly dressed, pulling on her sweatpants, bra, shirt, and hoodie. She didn’t have any panties, naturally. She shuddered again as she remembered Harrington slicing them off her. “At least I don’t have to see him again today,” she mumbled quietly to herself as she slipped on her shoes and crouched down to lace them. She grabbed her bag and moved to the door, avoiding looking at the mirrors near the sinks as she walked by.

As she pushed the door open, her phone buzzed. She fished it from her baggy sweatpants pocket and tapped the screen. The notification glared up at her as she read it. “See you in ten minutes.” She stared at her phone and she read it again, once more hoping the words would change. It was from an unknown number, just those five simple words with their hidden implications and nothing else. Ice flooded her veins as the push bar slipped from her hands and the door clicked shut.

Kylie closed her eyes and groaned. I should have known, she thought as she stepped back into the locker room. She knew exactly what the words meant. Room 202. With dejected movement, she walked to the back of the locker room and fished her school skirt from her bag. Kylie wasn’t going to give them the chance to punish her again. She quickly stripped off her sweatpants and slid the skirt up her legs before pushing through the exit door again.

A few oblivious students lingered in the hall around her, laughing, shouting, and slamming lockers. Kylie moved like a salmon swimming upstream, feet dragging towards the staircase. She shivered as cool air flickered between her legs, her unprotected crotch still not used to the ventilation it was forced to endure. The hallway grew quieter, emptier as she made the trip to room 202. Outside the door, she hesitated, hand hovering over the cold handle. Taking a deep breath that tasted like chemicals she pushed inside.

She noticed Harrington and Jameson leaning against filing cabinets as she entered. Harrington’s arms were crossed as he leaned casually and Jameson held a mug of what Kylie assumed was coffee. It read “World’s Best Teacher.” Their conversation died off the instant Kylie walked through the door. Two sets of eyes raked over her–Harrington’s sharp, assessing orbs drank in her form and Jameson’s gaze lingered on the swell of her chest underneath her hoodie. Kylie instinctively shrunk and wrapped her arms around herself in a half-hearted attempt to hide.

“Ah, punctual, as usual, Miss Morgan” Harrington stated, pushing off the cabinet. Jameson took a slow sip, his gaze never leaving her. “Shaky recovery on your routine finale today,” Harrington murmured, his voice smooth and confident, a slight smirk forming on his lips after he spoke. He stood up straight and uncrossed his arms, “Seems like you had a good time at practice, I’m proud of you for persevering through the discomfort. A true competitor!”

“Such resilience…” Jameson nodded curtly. “Competitive spirit and poise, despite… Bothersome distractions.” His gaze moved to her bare legs, tracing the contours of muscles as she stood near the door.

Harrington stepped toward her. “You’re still wet behind the ears and that’s understandable. We’ll fix you, you just need gentle reminders from time to time. Soon enough, you’ll be wet elsewhere.”

Kylie flushed. She wanted to call them names, tell him he was being mean, wanted to scream for help and tell her parents, but she bit her tongue instead.

“Now, take off your hoodie,” Harrington commanded, now mere feet away from her.

Kylie flinched slightly at his words; they sounded so close and loud. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths as her eyes traced the manufactured pattern on the floor. She was still unaccustomed to being ordered to strip in front of Harrington, and now Jameson. But the experience with the icy gel encouraged her to comply–to accept that now two men were going to watch her. Her fingers trembled as they found the zipper of her hoodie and pulled it down. The metallic zzzzzip echoed eerily in the silent room. She shrugged the thick fabric off her shoulders, letting it slide down her arms, and she held it in her hands. Clad in her school skirt and shirt, the air felt cool after she removed her hoodie. She avoided their stares, focusing on the floor. Swallowing hard, she made her way to the desk, but Harrington’s shadow fell over her.

He caught her arm before she could lift herself onto the wood and she whimpered. "I know you’re excited for the lesson, but you won’t be panting on the desk today," Harrington intoned, low and casual. He steered her away from the desk toward the center of the room. “Lift your skirt.” An order and not a request.

Kylie’s hands flexed repeatedly into little balls as she fidgeted in front of the two men. Then she unclenched her fists and roughly gripped the hem of her skirt. She glanced at Harrington before quickly looking away from his piercing eyes and slowly raised her skirt.

Harrington puffed out a loud breath as her delicate teen pussy came into view. Jameson licked his lips and set his mug down on the filing cabinet. “Very good, I see little reminders help you remember the rules,” Harrington commented, “Your cute little pussy needs to breathe after all.”

With a red face, Kylie squeezed her eyes closed, but somehow no tears formed under her lids. I don’t even have any panties with me! You ruined them! Again! she thought as she held her skirt aloft for their eyes.

Jameson walked forward and stood beside Kylie so that she was bracketed on both sides by the two men.

"A strength and stamina lesson today," Harrington announced, pulling Kylie away from her thoughts. He reached out and started popping the buttons of her shirt. “But first, take everything off,” he ordered as he undid her final button.

Kylie sucked in a quick breath as her shirt parted to reveal her flushed chest. Without any way out, she let it fall off her back and arms. Harrington snagged it before it hit the floor and tossed it over his desk.

“Skirt,” he said insistently.

A quick zip later and Kylie let the skirt fall around her ankles. Mostly naked, she stared at the floor as Jameson dragged her skirt away with the toe of his shoe. The garment snagged on her feet of course, and she lifted her feet to let it slide away. Jameson proceeded to kick the skirt across the floor, sending it toward the cluster of desks in the middle of the room.

Kylie desperately wanted to cover herself, to get her clothes back, but resisted the urge, understanding that she had no power in this room. She raised her eyes to Harrington’s first, then quickly glanced at Jameson. They didn't say anything, and she knew what to do. She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra and let the cups fall from her teenage tits. Once again, she resisted the urge to cover herself with her arms and stood stoically as the men ogled her. Her nipples hardened under their stares, but she didn't know if it was from the cool air in the room… or something else in their hungry gaze.

“Turn around and bend over,” Harrington murmured, “take off your shoes and socks.” His voice sounded husky and dark.

Kylie took a deep breath and turned around. She hesitated, glancing back toward Harrington and his stern eyes before bending over and reaching for her sneaker laces. Disgusting perverts, she thought as she worked the knots free. The two men watched and salivated as Kylie’s taunt ass flexed and spread, revealing her tight cinnamon ring as she untied her shoes. Jameson licked his lips and Harrington let air out through his nose.

With her laces free, Kylie quickly shot back up and kicked off her shoes, letting them tumble away. Then she slipped her socks from her feet and dropped them as the men watched. For the first time, but definitely not the last, she stood as naked as the day she was born in front of the men. She didn't get the chance to turn back around before she felt the presence of the men close in, bracketing her tighter than before. A hand fell on her shoulder and she flinched, squeezing her eyes closed.

"I’m sure you know the position by now."

Confusion flickered across Kylie’s face as her eyes popped back open. Harrington pressed down firmly on her shoulder, a stern unspoken suggestion to crouch down. She let herself be pushed down and her gymnast’s muscles obeyed instinctively, holding her up in a squat so her head was at the level of their waists. She crouched between them, head bowed, pussy revealed to the world, and her cheeks burning crimson as her heartbeat hammered against her ribs.

They’re going to make me suck them again, she cried internally as her eyes finally watered. Of course they are, why else would I be here?!

Shame scorched her neck and chest. She lifted her eyes slowly, cautiously. The men moved in front of her again, each taking up a place near her shoulders. Harrington was unbuckling his belt with lazy, unhurried movements. Beside him, Jameson mirrored the action, his fingers sliding smoothly over his own leather belt. Kylie’s eyes widened with a doe-like look of uncertainty. At the same time?! she thought trying to figure out how that would work, that’s not possible!

Harrington’s zipper rasped downward and Jameson’s button popped open. The sound seemed amplified by the empty room. Kylie flinched, dropping her gaze back to the floor. Her hands clenched into fists between her legs. She heard the rasp of fabric as the men's pants slid down their legs, then the clicking of shoes as they stepped out of them.

Harrington cleared his throat. "Eyes up," he commanded softly. "Pay attention." She obeyed, forcing her chin up to meet their eyes. Jameson’s smirk was faint and predatory. Harrington’s expression remained stern and commanding. "The lesson today," Harrington murmured, his voice dropping to a gritty whisper, "is endurance."

Kylie blinked rapidly as twin erections stood at attention in front of her face–Harrington’s cock was thicker and flushed while Jameson’s was slightly longer. Both seemed to pulse and radiate intense heat that she could feel on her face. Kylie’s breath caught sharply in her chest. Panic flared, hot and urgent, and she swallowed unconsciously. She bit down hard on her lower lip to stifle a whimper. More tears welled instantly, blurring the obscene vision before her. She squeezed her eyes shut, unsure what to do, but unwilling to stare at the tools of her torment.

Jameson snorted, a harsh, dismissive sound. "Get your hand up here, stupid girl," he snapped down at her, the cultured eloquence entirely vanished, replaced by cold authority. "I know you can't wait to get your slutty mouth around our cocks, but that'll have to wait."

The sudden shift, the crude words slicing through his usual velvet tone, jarred Kylie. Her breath hitched again as tears spilled over onto her cheeks. Tentatively, she opened her eyes as she raised her right hand, fingers visibly trembling. Her arm seemed impossibly heavy as she reached for his penis. Slowly, hesitantly, she extended her hand toward Jameson’s erection, the closest one hovering inches from her face. Her fingertips brushed the hot, taut skin, flinching away instantly as if burned.

"Slowly," Harrington murmured, his own gaze fixed on her trembling hand. "Softly. Grip it like I taught you." Kylie obeyed, forcing her hand forward again. Her slender fingers wrapped tentatively around Jameson’s shaft. The heat shocked her. The texture, different from Harrington's, felt too warm and alien.

Kylie felt paralyzed. Even her mind was locked up as it focused solely on the hard, terrifying heat and pulse beneath her trembling right hand. A soft, choked sob escaped her lips.

"Put that other hand to use, Miss Morgan," Harrington’s stern voice cut through her haze. "Grab my cock."

Her left hand jerked upward instinctively at his command. Her gaze flickered wildly between Harrington’s stern eyes and his thick, flushed shaft now inches from her cheek. Slowly, she closed her hand around his cock, and she was reminded how small her hands were. She still recoiled slightly before her fingers circled around his shaft. She tried to remember the whirlwind of activity and emotion from the last time she held his flesh in her hand, but everything seemed blank in her mind, and she felt overwhelmed gripping two cocks. Her knuckles were white where she gripped Jameson while focusing on Harrington’s.

An urgent, firm tap on her head brought Jameson’s cock back to her attention as he spoke, “Loosen your grip, it’s not a bar for you to swing from.”

Her hand relaxed immediately as she drew in a deep breath.

"Now, stroke us," Harrington growled, the command uncompromising. Kylie whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut again as she curled her fingers around their cocks, a reflexive clench spawned from fear, not control. Both men groaned softly, Jameson’s a low rumble, Harrington’s a sharp intake of breath, as her trembling hands held their rigid flesh. Her grip, strong and powerful from years of gymnastics, was of little help as she squeezed too tightly before catching herself and relaxing her hands. The last thing she wanted right now was to upset them.

She didn’t know what to do; she wanted to pull her hands away and scrub them under the sink, but she couldn't. Instinct screamed to pull away, but Harrington’s unspoken leverage–the videos, her father’s heartbroken face–locked her fingers around their cocks. She was still frozen in place, as she fought an internal battle, but her hands never left their flesh. She trembled instead, like a trapped bird with clipped wings sitting in a cage.

"Move," Jameson hissed, his once velvet voice full of impatience. "Jerk us off. Pretend you're churning butter."

Her hands clenched tighter momentarily at his tone before she caught herself again and began wiggling her wrists rapidly back and forth. The movement was frantic, born of timid uncertainty into a weak, gentle tremor that the aroused men barely registered.

Harrington let out an exasperated sigh. "Stop that," he commanded sharply. "You’re not applying your lesson very well."

Kylie froze again, her hands coming to a halt. “I-I don't… I don't remem… I can't d-do this…”

"Stroke them," Harrington said, overriding her plea with his instructions, his tone shifting to unnerving calmness. "Up and down. Slowly. Use your whole hand."

Tears tracked silently down Kylie’s cheeks as she forced her fingers to relax their grip again. She focused on Harrington first, sliding her left palm slowly up his shaft, the skin smooth and hot beneath her touch. She reached the swollen head, slick with pre-cum, and shuddered at the sticky liquid. Then, she slid her hand slowly back down to the base, only stopping when she felt her pinky grace his neatly trimmed public hair.

A low groan escaped Harrington. “Better," he murmured, his gaze fixed intently on her face.

She repeated the motion. Up and down, tentative yet deliberate, stroking his shaft. Then she paused and shifted her focus to Jameson with agonizing slowness. She mirrored the motion on his cock with her right hand: a slow upward glide, fingers brushing the sensitive ridge beneath his head, followed by a trembling descent back to the base.

Jameson drew in a deep breath, his hips pushing into her fist with each pump of her arm.

Harrington was a patient man, content for the moment with letting Kylie learn her place as he watched her work Jameson’s cock. After she found her rhythm, he said, “Who told you to stop stroking my cock?”

Kylie pursed her lips and grimaced slightly at the admonishment. She began moving her arms in unison, finally, clumsily working them together to slowly stroke both men simultaneously. Her hands slid in slow, dragging strokes, sliding up and down their lengths in a clumsy, terrified rhythm.

"Consistency, Miss Morgan" Harrington urged softly. "Maintain the pace."

Jameson watched her little fist work as she weakly pumped. “Pretty rough, too much friction,” he said throatily, “Why don’t you use some spit, lube it up a bit.”

Kylie’s strokes faltered at his words, “W-what?”

"On them," he clarified coolly, nodding toward his shaft held loosely in her hand. "It’s pretty dry." He flexed his cock for emphasis.

Humiliation flushed through Kylie again. Jameson’s gaze remained fixed on her fist, but Harrington’s eyes moved to her parted lips. Gathering saliva felt impossible to Kylie; her mouth was desert-dry, but she forced her tongue against the roof of her mouth, gathering what she could. Leaning forward slightly, she spat weakly onto Jameson’s cockhead and a small, glistening glob landing near the tip.

"Again," Jameson demanded, unimpressed. "More."

Kylie did so, leaning closer, spitting more forcefully onto the shaft she held. The saliva dripped down, running onto her fingers. She repeated the process on Harrington’s cock twice.

"Don’t stop stroking," Harrington ordered, his voice husky. "Use your lube."

Kylie obeyed, squeezing her eyes shut against her shame as she resumed the jerking motion on both of them. Her wet palms now slid more easily, and smoothly, over their hard cocks, the slick sounds filling her ears. Crouching between them, she jacked them off, her toned gymnast’s arms moving mechanically as tears dripped silently down her cheeks.

Harrington’s voice cut through the rhythmic sounds. "Kylie," he murmured, "It’s apparent that you’ve never given a dual handjob before."

Kylie’s heart thumped against her chest. I’m trying! she thought as she shook her head frantically back and forth, her red cheeks burning in shame. "No, sir," she choked out, her voice barely audible.

Harrington’s lip curled in a dismissive smirk. "It shows," he stated flatly. "Clumsy grip. No rhythm. Embarrassing. I expect someone with your talents to do much better." The words landed like blows, stinging more than mere disciplinary comments from a teacher. Jameson chuckled beside her, shifting his weight slightly as his cock pulsed hotly against her slick fingers.

"Fix it," Harrington demanded. Before she could react, his hands descended and he grabbed her free hanging tit in his palm.

Kylie gasped as Harrington squeezed her taut breast and moulded it between his fingers. Her nipples instantly hardened as his fingers manipulated her little bud. She instinctively tried to hunch forward, but Jameson’s sharp "Keep stroking!" froze her movement.

Kylie’s arms burned as she focused on moving her arms. Up, down, up, down, on both shafts. Her tit not held by Harrington trembled slightly with each jerky movement.

Harrington studied her flushed face as he massaged her tit and teased her nipple between his fingers. "Focus," he snapped suddenly.

Kylie flinched, her rhythm stuttering briefly. Instantly, Harrington’s rough thumb and forefinger pinched her nipple firmly, a stinging twinge that made her cry out softly. “Oww, S-s-stop!”

"Keep going, jack us both off," Harrington growled, ignoring her plea as he held onto her tender bud.

Kylie gasped, fighting back a sob, forcing her hands back into motion. The slick slide continued, Harrington’s thick shaft in her left hand, Jameson’s longer one in her right. She tried to steady her trembling arms, tried to find the expected rhythm Harrington demanded. But inexperience and uncertainty blurred her focus and her pace faltered.

"Weak," Jameson muttered and Kylie recoiled again. This time, Jameson’s hand flicked out with a swift slap against her free nipple that sent a jolt of pain through her tit. Kylie whimpered, her lips trembled as she sucked in a breath. “Ughhh.” She clenched her jaw, her hands moving faster, harder, a desperate bid to avoid the next round of tit discipline.

"Consistency," Harrington reminded her coolly again, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Keep the pace going." He watched her frantic motions, the flicker of pain beneath her eyelids each time she faltered and earned another tweak or flick on her sensitive nubs. The reminders heaped on her tits weren't meant to hurt a great deal but served to keep her focus on pumping her hands properly. A relentless rhythm settled in, strokes punctuated by stinging flicks or tweaks when she slowed down. Her hands worked steadily and her bare chest offered easy targets for their torment.

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, pushing away the terrifying sight of them looming over her further away. All her concentration narrowed to maintaining the movement of her arms, and the growing burning in her shoulders. Her wrists started to fatigue as her palms continued the relentless, slippery glide up and down their cocks. If she kept moving... If she kept the pace fast and steady... The sharp snaps against her nipples would stop. Her mouth hung slackly open, breaths shallow and ragged, tasting the stale air thick with cologne and musk.

“Good girl,” Harrington whispered, partly to himself and partly to Kylie.

Every tiny dip in her rhythm, every hesitation, brought another sharp flick, another firm reminder like a jockey correcting a wayward horse with a riding crop. Harrington’s thumb or Jameson’s knuckle would land with precision on her tender buds. Moderate pain bloomed fresh each time, hot and sharp, pulling choked whimpers from her throat. She poured everything into her arms, her disciplined gymnast’s muscles recalling vaults and leaps pushed through the fire in her shoulders. Faster. Harder. Avoid the sting. Keep the strokes smooth. Avoid the sting. Her world shrank to the motion of her hands and the tenuous hope that a good performance might end the torment sooner. Sweat beaded along her hairline, eventually mingling with her tears flowing from her tightly squeezed lids.

Suddenly, Harrington’s hand stopped flicking. Instead, his palm engulfed her entire left breast possessively, squeezing the firm flesh tight as she stroked him. Simultaneously, Jameson’s fingers tangled sharply in her hair, holding her bun tight in his grip.

A smooth, unfamiliar warmth pressed firmly against her lower lip, leaving a trail of wetness on her slack lips. Kylie recoiled violently, puffing out a thbbbtt sound as she closed her mouth, but Jameson’s firm grip limited the movement of her head. Her hands froze in confusion mid-stroke on both cocks, fingers instinctively curling tighter as she tried to pull her head away. Two. Two shafts pulsed wetly in her palms. Yet, something hot and rigid pushed against her tight lips. Her eyes flew open and terror tore through her confusion.

Standing directly before her, where moments ago only empty air had been, was a naked stranger. His bulging erection nestled against her face, and she jerked violently when the realization settled. The stranger slapped his cock down across her face as she struggled futilely to get away. A jagged surge of disbelief coursed through her as she dropped both hands simultaneously and pulled her mouth away from the foreign presence assaulting her lips. Her neck strained against Jameson’s grip in her hair. Harrington maintained his hold of her tit, helping to keep her in place.

The stranger’s cock bobbed obscenely, mere inches from her face, moist with precum. Kylie’s tear-filled eyes traced up the torso of the stranger to his face. She gasped again, not recognizing the new man and tried again to scramble away, but Jameson maintained his grip on her bun. Her knees fell to the floor as she tried to wiggle away. Her wide eyed, scared gaze flew away from the stranger, to settle onto Harrington’s smiling face.

“Ah,” Harrington chuckled darkly, releasing her breast to gesture lazily at the newcomer. “I see you've now met Ben.”

The stranger grinned, stepping closer, slapping his cock wetly against Kylie’s flushed cheekbone as she flinched away as much as she could.

“Our resident IT specialist,” Jameson added smoothly, his hand still twisted in her hair, preventing escape.

“You can thank Ben here for the clarity of your little videos,” Harrington taunted, his voice dripping with malice. “And for ensuring it reaches every admissions office, and your father… should you disappoint us.”

Kylie stared, mute with horror, at Ben’s unfamiliar face, ruddy cheeks, thinning brown hair, eyes bright with predatory glee. She’d never seen him before, not in the hallways, not in the auditorium–nowhere. Yet here he stood, naked and grinning, cock swaying near her mouth like a threat made of flesh. Her mind reeled: How? When did he get here? The door hadn’t opened. The filing cabinets offered no cover. It was as if he’d materialized from the shadows Harrington and Jameson cast.

“I think Ben needs a nice reward for all his hard work, don’t you Miss Morgan?” Harrington said casually.

Ben reached down and gripped her jaw and pulled her face toward his cock. “Open wide again, sweetheart,” he rasped, his voice thick with anticipation. “Time for a proper introduction.”

Kylie whimpered, tasting musty air and terror as his cockhead pressed insistently against her lips. To the sides of her, Harrington and Jameson chuckled, a dark, unified sound that echoed off the walls of Room 202.

Her reflexes kicked in before conscious thought. Kylie jerked her head back, clenching her jaw shut while pressing her palms flat against Ben’s thighs, shoving with every ounce of her coiled muscle strength. “No!” she choked out, spittle spraying as she twisted away. “Please… I don’t want this!” she cried out. Her eyes darted wildly between the three men, pleading. Jameson’s grip tightened on her hair, wrenching her skull forward until her neck screamed.

“Quiet her down,” Harrington snapped, his voice a whip-crack of command. “Get that cock in her mouth.”

Jameson leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. “And grab ours again,” he whispered as he tightened his fingers painfully in her bun. “Now.”

Kylie froze, caught between a sob and a scream, as Ben’s cock smushed into her lips, forcing them apart as his hot glans brushed against her teeth. She gagged instinctively, tasting salty sweat and musk as he kept pushing against her closed mouth.

"And if you bite, everyone will know," warned Harrington.

In a full-blown panic, Kylie thrashed and strained, pulling her face away again. Her hips bucked against nothing as she pushed hard on Ben's thighs to keep him away. “No, no, no! I'm not sucking his dick!” she screamed, “I've never even seen him before!” Her hands scrabbled against his legs and her nails, kept quite short for gymnastics, scraped his skin ineffectively.

Ben grinned as Kylie struggled, “Looks like she likes it rough, eh?” he chuckled.

“Kylie, put your hands back on our cocks and open your mouth,” Harrington commanded seriously. He punctuated the order with a quick slap across her heaving tit. “Scream all you want; no one can hear you.” He waited for her to quiet down. “Are you ready to be a good girl again, or do I need to punish you with the gel again?” He asked, letting the question hang.

Kylie lessened her fidgeting and lifted her eyes to Harrington's. “Why are you making me do this?” she asked with a sniffle, “Didn't I do a good enough job sucking you?”

A small smile spread across Harrington's lips as he peered back into her upturned emerald eyes. “Oh, I loved pumping my load straight into your stomach, Miss Morgan,” he said as Jameson grunted in agreement. Harrington continued, “But we still have to teach you your lesson.” He squeezed her breast roughly as he finished his sentence, making Kylie wince. Jameson took the opportunity to return his attention back to her other tit and lightly play with her nipple. In front of Kylie, Ben licked his lips as his cock flexed in anticipation.

“Grab them!” Harrington roared and Kylie flinched hard.

Whimpering, she obeyed and her right hand fumbled back onto Jameson’s rigid shaft while her left slapped into Harrington’s. Her fingers closed around them again and she held on tight but didn’t start stroking. She wanted to beg for them to let her go but remained silent. I don't have a choice anymore, she thought morosely to herself.

Harrington watched lustfully, “Three cocks to play with, and only two hands! What’s a good little cumslut to do?!” As a reminder of the third cock, Ben slapped his cock onto her lips again and traced the tight seam of her lips slowly, smearing precum above her upper lip and filling her nostrils with a musky odor.

Ben chuckled lightly, grinding his hips forward, pushing his cock up to rub into her nose, as he watched her demeanor shift. “There’s a good slut, I was told you knew what you were doing,” he murmured, the praise burning in her ears. “Open wide… Resistance is futile!”

With a final unclenching of her jaw–and the thought of I’m not a slut!--Kylie let her mouth slip open. Ben barely hesitated before he slid his cock right inside to the back of her throat and made her gag instantly. Saliva immediately pooled under her tongue as she heaved, and Ben pulled back a bit. She cleared the extra fresh saliva from her quivering mouth with a swallow as his cock retreated.

“I've been waiting for this for a week!” He exclaimed as he thrust forward again, “Got quite the load saved up!” He pressed into her throat again, eliciting another attenuated gag from the teen gymnast, as he dropped his hands to the sides of her face. Jameson released her bun as Ben pumped himself into her mouth repeatedly. “Looks like you better start taking care of my friends here, we don't want them feeling left out.” She felt both Harrington and Jameson squeeze the tits they still held respectively.

Her jaw ached under his insistent thrusts, slow at first, then faster, always going deep. Each push generated a wet gurgle and forced her throat open wider as his scraggly pubic hair scratched her chin and nose. Tears she didn’t know she had left streamed freely from her eyes and mixed with the drool dripping down her chin. She tried to ignore the shaft in her throat and focus on the rhythmic slide of her hands, up, down, up, down, anything to anchor against the suffocating intrusion filling her mouth. Without realizing it, Kylie ultimately stroked the other two men in time with Ben’s cock filling her throat, her hands squeezing tighter unconsciously as her throat convulsed with a wet glk during each deep push.

The room dissolved into a macabre ballet. Harrington and Jameson towered above her, hips subtly rocking in time to the steady beat of Kylie’s little hands. Ben stood before her completing the dance with his pelvis pumping urgently against her face, his cock sliding smoothly in and out of her slack mouth now. “I thought you said she was good at this,” Ben said to Harrington abruptly, “She’s not even sucking! Just getting fucked!”

Harrington didn’t answer, just squeezed Kylie’s heavy handful between his fingers as a command to start sucking.

Kylie whined with a mouth full of cock and responded by tightening her lips on Ben’s cock as it pummeled her mouth. The constriction of her mouth and throat sent even more drool past her stretched lips and it soon overflowed and ran down her chin. Her mind spun, trying to recall what she’d been taught to do and soon her tongue was pressing firmly into the underside of Ben’s shaft. Her lips closed around his glans as he pulled nearly out before plunging back into her throat.

“There it is,” Ben grunted huskily, “She is a quick learner! Just needed the proper motivation, I guess!”

Her eyes squeezed shut as his demeaning words entered her ears. Her nostrils flared whenever he pulled back as she drew in air through her nose. The only sounds in the room were the slick schlick of cocks on her flesh and her nasally, whimpering breaths. Saliva continued to leak from the corners of her stretched lips and drip down her chin and began trailing down her neck. Her knees burned against the unforgiving floor as she sucked Ben’s cock. She felt stuck again, mouth full, hands trapped, breasts exposed and sore, yet she choked down each thrust, jerked each shaft, hoping numbness would swallow her whole before the lesson escalated again.

Ben’s grunts deepened. His thrusts grew sharper, less rhythmic, driving his thick head harder against her palate each time. “Mmh... getting close...” he groaned, fingers tightening painfully in her hair. Tears continued to track freely down Kylie’s cheeks, mingling with the drool coating her chin and neck. The viscous mixture dripped steadily onto her exposed collarbones and upper breasts, leaving warm, sticky trails that glistened under the lights.

Harrington chuckled darkly, watching the gooey mess spread. “See that?” he murmured, thick with arousal, to the room, “She’s leaking.”

Ben abruptly pulled almost entirely out, leaving just the swollen tip resting on Kylie’s lower lip. She stretched her mouth open at the opportunity and took a deep breath through her mouth. A thick strand of saliva bridged her upper lip and his cockhead. It snapped and flew into her mouth as she gasped for air. “Heard you guys needed lube?” he smirked, his eyes flicking pointedly down to her saliva-smeared face and chest. “Plenty right here.”

Jameson’s grip returned to her bun and wiggled her head, pulling her scalp back and forth. “Scoop it up,” he commanded sharply.

Kylie froze her strokes, relieved to not have a cock in her throat for a moment before she released both shafts from her trembling hands. A moment of hesitation lingered, and she found herself unable to move her hands to her own neck and chest; it was a little resistance to the degradation she was forced to endure.

“Now,” Harrington snapped, grabbing her wrist, “Scoop it up. Use what you’re losing.” He forced her left hand down toward the mess dripping from her chin and running between her breasts.

Kylie whimpered on Ben’s tip as she begrudgingly obeyed, dragging her fingers through the slimy mixture of tears, spit, and Ben’s precum coating her skin. The sensation was revolting, hot and sticky. It’s so slimy and warm!

Harrington pulled her slickened hand back onto his waiting cock.

“The other one too!” Jameson barked.

Trembling fiercely, Kylie repeated the motion with her right hand, smearing the mess onto Jameson’s shaft before resuming her jerking strokes. The glide of her little hands morphed into a juicy, slick slide, aided by the fluids scraped directly from her violated body.

Ben chuckled in front of her. “Perfect,” he murmured, hips snapping forward, filling her mouth again, “Great little slut you caught here. Gonna fill her up!”

He seized her head tightly again, fingers digging into her temples. “Swallow it all, you fucking bitch!” he yelled. His thrusts became brutal, like a machine, battering the back of her throat with deep, choking jabs. Glk, Glk, Glk. Kylie gagged intensely around him, eyes bulging, but he held her locked in place, grunting with each savage plunge.

“Oh, yeah. Deepthroat that cock!” Harrington grunted as his hips jerked against her slippery hand.

Ben’s rhythm fractured completely into wild, uncontrolled lunges. A guttural groan tore from his throat as his cock swelled. The first hot shot hit her gag reflex directly. Kylie convulsed, choking on the thick, musky flood as Ben roared, emptying himself in frantic spurts deep down her throat. Semen overflowed instantly, ricocheting back into her mouth, spilling past her stretched lips in ropes that joined the mess on her chest. Her hands tightened around the two cocks she held, and her stroking stopped as the fluid blasted down her throat. Ben held her impaled, spurting relentlessly, until he finally sagged back with a satisfied sigh, dragging his slick shaft across her lips and leaving her gasping with her throat and tongue coated in his cum.

With only a moment's rest, Harrington shoved Kylie’s trembling jaw towards Jameson’s rigid cock. “Switch!” he barked.

Kylie pushed most of Ben’s cum from her mouth and it plopped onto the floor with a plip. She inhaled a huge breath before bleating out “Nnnooooo!” while the taste and slimy feeling of cum coated her mouth.

Ben stumbled back, stroking his shaft as Jameson took his place in front of the kneeling girl. Without preamble, Jameson gripped her chin and plunged into her warm, gasping, gaping mouth. Kylie spluttered, tasting Ben’s thick cum mixed with Jameson’s scent.

“Keep pumping” Harrington sneered, slapping her hand back onto his own shaft. “Stroke him too! Show him how grateful you are for his gift!”

Kylie’s other hand fumbled blindly for Ben’s still hard cock as he grabbed her wrist and slammed it onto his sticky shaft. Jameson began a slow, deliberate rhythm above her, each thrust pushing deeper than Ben’s frantic assault, stretching her bruised throat muscles again. “So much better than her hand,” Jameson breathed as he fucked her throat with smooth strokes.

“Hold her steady,” Harrington said to Jameson coolly. Jameson obliged him, clamping both hands on her head, thumbs pressing firmly into her forehead.

Kylie whimpered around the long intrusion, her hands moving mechanically on both shafts. Her shoulders started burning again as the cycle of stroking found its rhythm again. Jameson’s cock in her mouth served as the conductor’s baton, directing her concerto of degradation.

Jameson’s thrusts remained measured. He watched her tear-streaked face intently, his gaze hungry. Kylie’s choked gurgles intensified as Jameson deliberately angled his cock upward, grinding his tip against her soft palate with each inward push. He increased the depth of his jab, then paused, holding himself fully sheathed.

Kylie’s throat spasmed around the intrusion each time; her muffled gagging intensified. “Ghhhlllkkk.”

Jameson sighed a sound of pure satisfaction. “Perfect... complete submission.” He resumed thrusting, just as deep as before but faster, savoring the tight, wet resistance. “She’s priming herself to swallow... Milking it already.”

Kylie’s hands faltered on Ben and Harrington’s shafts as Jameson plugged her deeply. Ben growled, then reached down to pinch her nipple sharply. “Keep stroking!” he reminded her. She obeyed as she choked on the cock nestled deep in her throat again.

Jameson’s rhythm hitched. A tremor ran through his thighs. “Close...” he hissed, his voice strained. He slammed home, burying himself to the hilt, and held there, his knuckles white on her skull. “Open your throat!” he commanded.

Kylie tried, a futile, panicked flex, but her gag reflex seized forcefully as Jameson roared and erupted in thick, hot pulses that blasted directly into the constricting channel of her esophagus. Kylie heaved as semen surged back up her throat, flooding past her capacity. The viscous cum overflowed her mouth, bubbling thickly from her nostrils in twin streams that burned her sinuses. Her eyes rolled back, more tears streaming down her cheeks, and she suffocated with the internal deluge.

Ben laughed, thrusting into her tightening fist. “Look at her!” he barked, “Leaking from her nose!” Jameson groaned, pumping the last spurts inside her. He withdrew his cock slowly, as translucent strings of cum stretched between her lips.

Kylie gasped wetly and felt semen dribbling from her nose to run over her lips. The sensation of fluid in her nose caused her to cough repeatedly, like water down the wrong tube, sending droplets of cum through the air. Her hands had stopped their frantic strokes on the other men’s cocks when her nose filled with cum and she brought them to her face to try to wipe away the mess instinctively. “Uggghhh,” she moaned as she tried to clear the goopy liquid from her face. She forced a breath out through her nose and the men chuckled as bubbles formed and popped on her face. A giant, gurgling burp raced up her chest and exploded out from her lips as more semen dribbled down her lips and chin. “Uggghhh,” she moaned again.

Ben let out a chuckle, “Thought you said she was good at swallowing,” he said over Kylie to the other men, “Looks like we have a cum breathing dragon with us today!”

Harrington and Jameson chuckled at the comment, but Kylie didn’t even register the words as she tried to catch her breath and wipe her face.

She didn’t get long to rest before Harrington nudged past Jameson and announced, “My turn.” He grabbed Kylie’s petite jaw, still messy with various fluids, and pried her mouth open again with his fingers. “Tell me how excited you are for my cock, Kylie,” he husked in a gravelly, urgent voice. “I know you can’t wait to take it down your throat and be my best girl.”

Kylie didn’t respond verbally. Instead, she lifted her head upward and gazed at him with a lost look in her bleary eyes. Who would want… This..? They’re evil… Her mouth hung open around his fingers as she drew in shaky breaths. A thin stream of cum slid out of her nose and curved around her lip. She simply blinked and stared in shock.

“At a loss for words, huh? That’s okay, I know you want it,” he said, then positioned his cockhead on her trembling lips. Without a care in the world for her comfort, he pushed forward, shoving past her teeth, sliding along her tongue, all the way down her throat.

Kylie whimpered as she choked, again, on his cock. A wet, desperate gurgle emanated from her mouth as Harrington slid home. Her body tried to instinctively recoil, her hips bucked slightly downward, pressing her knees harder into the floor. She pulled her head back with a futile, desperate jerk, but Harrington gripped her hair and held her close as he pulled back and thrust again.

Jameson leaned down, mere inches from her face and whispered, “That’s right, choke on it, you filthy little cocksucker. You love choking on dick, don’t you?”

Kylie’s eyes widened as they shot to the side of her sockets in an attempt to look at him. She tried shaking her head, a frantic little attempt, but Harrington’s cock and hands kept her oriented properly as he slowly fucked her mouth. She tried to form words of denial, of hate, but the only sound she could make around the shaft invading her oral cavity was pitiful, choked moans, that were constantly interrupted by Harrington tickling her gag reflex.

“She does,” Ben chuckled from the other side of her. His hand found her tit and squeezed. “You can tell. Watch how her throat milks him and listen to her little moans. You weren’t lying about her throat! What an amazing slut!”

Harrington, formerly patient, but now exceptionally horny, picked up his pace. “You love it!” he sneered, “Look at me while I fuck your face, Kylie.” He used his thumbs to lift her eyelids up and locked his eyes on hers as they flickered up to his and he face fucked her faster.

Jameson grabbed her arm and directed her hand back to his cock, forcing her fingers tightly around his shaft. His larger hand covered hers as he used her fingers like a fleshlight to stroke himself. Ben’s fingers found her nipple and playfully tweaked it, adding another distraction. “You’re nothing but a hungry, greedy whore!” he murmured as he teased her peak.

Kylie recoiled internally. No! she screamed silently in denial, louder to herself than the wet choking sounds she made.

Harrington kept fucking, seemingly unconcerned if she was uncomfortable or could even breathe. His need to use his new pet after he’d watched her being abused by the others overrode any other thought and he began to pull her face further onto his driving cock. “Oh, I think she is,” he said throatily, “You should have seen her cumming in my lap! She couldn’t have stopped even if she wanted to!” Sweat was dripping down his face and chest as he spoke, and his urgent thrusts sent drops of salty water down onto Kylie’s face. “Maybe we should just send out the video now anyway, show everyone what you are really made for.”

Dread and panic surged in Kylie, cold and paralyzing, leaving her unable to do anything except kneel before him and take it. Her world had been reduced to nothing but the taste of cock, the ache of her throat being stretched, and a soundtrack of degrading words and gurgling moans. Her vision started to blur at the edges. The cold floor, the smell of sex, and the harsh lights overhead dissolved into a suffocating haze, a waking nightmare that she couldn’t rouse herself from. She couldn’t remember the last time she took a satisfying breath. Her limbs felt heavy and disconnected and her muscles screamed from the prolonged tension of being used.

“Stay with me, Kylie,” Harrington hissed, slapping her cheek lightly. “Getting… Close… Fuck!”

Kylie flinched and her eyes fluttered. The room swam at the edges of her vision, but all she could resolve was the wall of Harrington’s pelvis pummeling her face. She didn’t respond when Harrington dribbled spit into her upturned face. It landed on her forehead and spread down the bridge of her nose. Just another degradation that she had no option but to endure. Her strained mind floated away, detached, fractured, like a rickety life raft adrift on a sea of violation. Ophelia... Dad... Gymnastics... Fragments of her stolen innocence flashed in her mind. She clung to them, desperately.

Harrington’s hips hammered forward, his knuckles bone-white where he now gripped her skull. “You fucking… Auuughh!” he gasped. His thrusting turned erratic as a guttural roar ripped from his chest. He slammed deep and held, impaling her throat completely.

Kylie’s eyes rolled back and her vision blacked out. Then came the flood of hot, thick jets of cum erupting directly into her throat. Her body convulsed, her gag reflex utterly overwhelmed. Thick semen surged, down into her stomach and back upwards, instantly flooding her nasal passages again. It erupted from her nostrils in twin, burning streams. Simultaneously, streams overflowed her forced-open lips, cascading down her chin and dripping onto her already sticky chest. Harrington groaned long and low, grinding his hips against her face, ensuring every last pulse emptied deep inside her.

“Drown in it... You filthy... Cum dumpster...” he snarled, shuddering as he held himself as deep as he could.

Jameson’s laughter and Ben’s approving grunt sounded distant, muffled beneath the roaring in Kylie’s ears and the suffocating tide filling her head. With a deliberate, wet schlock, Harrington pulled his cock free from her throat and mouth and finally sagged back, panting heavily. Kylie’s head dropped forward limply, her neck muscles finally giving out.

Released, an exhausted Kylie fell forward. She was pulled sideways by Jameson’s hold on her hand still anchoring hers to his cock. He finally released it, letting her fall to the floor on her side, legs splayed. She gasped desperately for air, detached from reality, and retched violently. More semen mixed with bile sprayed onto the floor beneath her face. Her shoulders shook uncontrollably as she drew in raspy gasps of air.

“Look at her,” Jameson chuckled, stepping back to admire the wreckage. “Covered in filth.”

“Disgusting,” Ben added.

Harrington straightened and looked down at her shuddering form. “A perfect little cum rag,” he stated coldly, “I think she’s learned her lesson.”

Kylie’s breath hitched in ragged sobs. Consciousness flickered like a dying light bulb. The harsh light dimmed, then surged blindingly bright. Their voices echoed around her, distorted and fading. “Slut...” “Loved it...” “Broken in...” Her brain was unable to process the words, her mind too hazy. Her cheek pressed against the lukewarm, wet mess on the floor. Darkness beckoned, soft and merciful. She floated toward it, the vile words chasing her down into oblivion. “Leaking...” “Can’t wait…” “Good girl…” Harrington’s voice was the last thing she heard before the world dissolved into merciful silence.

— --

Cold pressure seared her cheekbone. Kylie gasped awake, gulping air like a drowning swimmer breaching the surface. Her throat screamed in pain as she swallowed. The taste of her torment burned through her mouth as she tried to swallow it down. Disorientation slammed into her, Where am I? The lights overhead burned her lidded eyes as she opened them, illuminating sterile cabinets and anatomical posters. Room 202. The realization hit like ice water. She lurched sideways, trying to push herself up. Her palms slid treacherously in a cold, viscous puddle pooled on the floor. Her stomach roiled as her memory flustered back. “Oh… Gosh...” she choked, scrambling backward frantically. She struggled, slipping twice in the slick mess, before finally managing to push herself up against the unforgiving cinderblock wall. Her head swam, vision blurring as she fought to control her panic.

Across the room, Harrington sat behind his desk, fingers steepled calmly under his chin. His cold eyes watched her struggle impassively, tracking her every flinch and tremble. “Comfortable?” he asked softly, his voice slicing through the thick silence.

Kylie flinched, wrapping her arms tightly around her knees. She tried to shrink away, pressing her back lower into the wall.

Harrington leaned back in his chair and the leather creaked softly. His gaze traveled deliberately from her semen-streaked face down to her trembling hands. “I trust you… Absorbed... An important lesson today,” he murmured, tapping a pen lightly against the desk.

Kylie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the memory–their thrusting cocks choking her, the motion of her hands unwillingly jerking them off, her tender breasts being manipulated. The taste of their combined loads still coated her mouth. She shuddered violently as bile rose again in her guts.

Harrington rose smoothly and crossed the room. He was fully dressed again. Each step sounded sharp in the silence, deliberate and predatory. Kylie froze, breath catching, as his polished shoes stopped inches from her curled legs. He pulled a clean white towel from his pocket, the kind used for wiping lab equipment, and extended it toward her. “Here,” he offered calmly.

Tremors racked Kylie’s frame as she stared at the cloth. Her arm trembled uncontrollably as she reached out, her fingers brushing the crisp fabric. She snatched it away quickly, clutching it to her knees like armor.

"Why?" Her voice cracked, raw and desperate. Tears welled up, blurring Harrington’s impassive face. “Why are you doing this to me?” She pressed the rag against her sticky face. “What... What did I ever do to you?” The plea ripped from her throat, sharp with anguish.

Harrington tilted his head slightly, studying her tear-streaked face. His lips curved into a gentle, almost paternal smile. “Because I can,” he replied smoothly, his tone as soft as silk.

Harrington crouched down before her, balancing effortlessly. He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering deliberately against her damp temple. “Tonight was required,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone. “But it doesn’t have to be like this again. Resistance makes it… Fun for us, but quite unpleasant for you.” His hand slid down to her throat, not squeezing, just resting possessively against her pulse. “You wore panties today,” he chided lightly, tapping the hollow of her collarbone. “After I explicitly told you not to. That error... That’s what earned you the gel. A little reminder.” His fingers trailed lower, tracing the curve of her upper breasts. “We decided to have a little more fun to drive home the lesson.”

Harrington exhaled, almost sympathetically, and rose to his full height. He extended his hand. “Play the game, follow the rules,” he said simply, “and we let you go. And who knows…? You might even find yourself enjoying some of it.

Kylie stared at his outstretched palm, the same fingers that had violated her mouth before he face fucked her. A hysterical laugh bubbled in her chest, but it died as he flexed his fingers impatiently. She jerked her eyes away from his flexing fingers, unsure of what they meant and dropped her head down.

With a sigh, Harrington put his hands under her shoulders and pulled her up effortlessly. Another simple reminder of his power over her. Her legs wobbled where she stood, threatening to give out, as her bare feet planted on the cool floor. Harrington steadied her with a firm hand on her elbow. "But break the rules, and we punish you," he warned.

Kylie didn’t respond, couldn’t look up at him in any attempt at defiance or even pleading. Instead, she meekly stood, unsure of what to do next as she stared at her feet.

“Are you going to wear panties again,” Harrington asked her simply.

“N-noooooo,” she answered quietly.

“Clean up” he instructed, nodding toward the lab sink. “Then go home.” With his final words, he gave her a hint of a smile before turning toward the door.

Kylie slumped back against the wall once she heard the latch click after Harrington left. The back of her head rested against the cool cinderblock wall as she repeated his words mentally. After what felt like an eternity, she finally straightened off the wall and stumbled to the sink, taking care to avoid the pool of filth with her bare feet. She washed her hands and face, then wiped the mess off her chest. She scooped a handful of water into her mouth and swished it around before spitting it down the drain. She glanced around for her clothes and noticed them strewn around the room. With bare feet, she tottered lightly to each article in a sheepish scavenger hunt to collect them from around the room. She pulled each piece of clothing on as she found it, wincing as she pulled her bra over her tormented tits. She found her skirt before she found her second sock and quickly pulled it on before resuming her hunt.

Finally, she was fully dressed and grabbed her bag. A reflection of light snagged her attention as she turned toward the door. It was the puddle of liquid near Harrington’s desk, reflecting the bright lights from above. I can’t leave that, someone will see it… He’ll just make it worse if someone finds it… she reminded herself. With a resigned sigh, she headed back to the sink and grabbed the entire roll of paper towels. She moved back to the pooled mess and pulled off more than she needed, letting them fall and cover the puddle. She lightly pushed the pile around with her shoe, hoping it would absorb the liquid. Satisfied that most of the mess was contained, she bent over and quickly wiped up any that remained before tossing the giant heap into the trash can.

After washing her hands again, she turned and stumbled from the room once more, taking her now familiar path of shame out of the classroom.