TEACHER, PLEASE SPREAD MY PUSSY

Shy freshman Gina Wesley crashes Dean Whitehouse's biology class with a schoolgirl outfit and a plea: "Please 'initiate' me, teacher."

But the handsome Dean Whitehouse is deliciously cruel, and he shows Gina exactly what he would do to her . . . involving a long pointer, a dangling metal ball, a birch cane, and the largest dildo Gina has ever seen.

Now Gina must be the main exhibit of a mysterious class, attended by three of the dean's special students.

This is Book Four of the Initiation series.

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The desk is quite high, and so I have to clamber on a chair to vault myself onto its top.

"Squat facing me with your legs open and your hands squeezing your teats."

I obey. I'm nervous of my glistening pussy lips - and what he would perceive of me when he sees how wet I am. From a drawer, Dean Whitehouse removes a long contraption made from metal and tiny chains. It's shaped in a Y. All three of its ends flare into crocodile-like clamps.

"See these?" He demonstrates how tight the clamps are - like clothespins - by clicking them softly. I begin to tremble.

He places two clamps on both my protruding nipples. Unlike the ones that Devlin has clipped me with before, the blunted teeth on these ones bite down on my skin so that it actually hurts.

I whimper.

"Now, now, surely you're not a soft girl. You'll be able to take a little pain."

He moves the third crocodile clamp to my pussy. He regards my terrified face as, with his huge thumb and index finger, he seizes my moist clit.

"Please, sir, no!" I cry.

The clamp snares almost the entire flesh of my sensitive hood and nips down on it firmly. Tears of pain flood my eyes. A stinging sensation of deep, intimate pain immediately flares in my clitoris.

My trapped nipples and clit are now connected to one another by the Y filigree chain.

Dean Whitehouse grabs my chin. "Do not call me 'sir'. From now on, you'll refer to me as 'teacher', understand?"

He makes me nod. "Yes, teacher."

"Good. Now I want you to stand up on the table with your legs apart."

Uncurling my knees, I attempt to straighten myself. The chains of the clamps become taut, pulling my nipples downward and lifting my clit painfully.

"Now pinch both your earlobes with your fingers. I want you to pull yourself down by the ears into a squat. Then stand up again. Do this fifty times."

The tears are running down my cheeks. Fifty times! Surely he does not mean to humiliate me thus!

I seize my earlobes and pull myself down, bending my legs at the knees.

"Count," Dean Whitehouse commands me.

"One." As I descend into a squat, the tension of the clamps on my nipples and clit lessens. But when I raise myself again, the tautness returns, and my intimate parts are once again cruelly tugged together. My embarrassment is extreme.