Pain in the ass

As the door clicks shut behind her, Mrs. Taylor turns to the class with a wicked smile. "Now, let's talk about something we can all relate to," she says, her eyes scanning the room. "Who here likes their meals spicy?"

Mark, feeling emboldened by the power dynamics at play, raises his hand. He's always been eager to prove himself, to be the one to stand out in the crowd. Mrs. Taylor nods at him, her smile widening. "Ah, Mark," she says, "such a brave young man. Why don't you come up here and show us just how much you can handle?"

You watch as Mark struts over to the vaulting box, his cock still hard and glistening from the recent events. He leans over it, his hands gripping the edge. Rachel and Emily stand on either side of him, looking like a pair of avenging angels with their naked bodies and cruel smiles.

They move in unison, binding Mark's wrists to the box. Emily's eyes glint as she draws a card from the box. Mrs. Taylor's voice is like a whip crack when she asks her to read it. "Figging," Emily says, her voice clear and steady. The class murmurs, and Mark's cocky expression falters.

Mrs. Taylor pulls out a knob of fresh ginger from her pocket, holding it up for everyone to see. She pulls a knife from the same pocket, the blade glinting in the fluorescent lights of the sports hall. You can see the beads of sweat forming on Mark's forehead as she peels the ginger, revealing the pale flesh beneath. She carves it slowly, her movements deliberate and precise, shaping it into something that looks eerily like a butt plug.

"Do you know what figging is, Mark?" she asks, her voice like velvet. Mark shakes his head, his eyes flickering between the ginger and the ropes that hold him in place. Rachel and Emily exchange a knowing look, their smiles wicked.

"Figging," Mrs. Taylor continues, her tone almost educational, "is an ancient form of punishment. It involves inserting a piece of ginger into the anus, which, as you can imagine, creates a rather... intense sensation." She holds up the carved ginger, and Mark's eyes widen with horror as he realizes what's about to happen to him.

"But before we get to that," she says, pausing for dramatic effect, "we need to time this little experiment." She looks around the class,. "Do we have a volunteer to keep time?" Emily raises her hand. "I've got it," she says, her eyes gleaming as she pulls out her phone. "I'll set it to record, so we can all watch later and see how long our brave Mark lasts." Rachel snickers, and even Mark's smug expression falters a bit at the thought of his humiliation being recorded for posterity.

Mrs. Taylor nods to Rachel, who steps behind Mark, her breasts brushing against his back. Rachel's hand guides the ginger into Mark's tight anus. His eyes widen, and he tenses, his entire body going rigid. Rachel's smile is cold as she pushes it in, the ginger disappearing up to the knob. Mark's breath comes in short, sharp gasps as Rachel twists it once, twice, three times. The class watches, transfixed by the scene unfolding before them.

The first few seconds are almost comical — Mark's face contorted in a grimace, his cheeks reddening as the ginger starts to work its magic. Then the pain hits, and it's like a switch is flipped. He starts to cry out, his voice high and keening, the sound echoing through the sports hall. You can see the tears streaming down his face, his body writhing against the ropes that hold him in place. Rachel and Emily laugh, their eyes glittering with excitement as they watch his agony.

Emily keeps filming, her hand steady despite her own arousal. You can see the wetness between her legs as she captures every second of Mark's suffering. She zooms in on the ginger, still twitching slightly with his spasms, and you can almost feel the heat from the camera's flash as it records the scene. Rachel leans in, her voice a murmur in Mark's ear. "You like that, don't you?" she whispers, her breath hot against his neck. "You're loving every second of this, you little slut."

The door to the sports hall opens, and Larissa walks back in, her skin still damp from her shower. She's wrapped in a towel, her hair plastered to her forehead. The sight of Mark, bound and impaled on the ginger, brings a wicked smile to her face. She giggles, the sound high and brittle, and Rachel turns to her. "Isn't this just hilarious?" Rachel asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Our tough guy, brought to his knees by a bit of ginger."

Larissa's laugh is genuine, a bubble of mirth that fills the room. It's the first time she's felt anything like this since the start of the lesson — a heady mix of power and release. She walks over to Mark, her bare feet silent on the matted floor. She looks down at him, her eyes sparkling with a newfound confidence. "You know," she says, her voice light and mocking, "I never knew you were into this kind of thing."

Larissa's hand rears back, and she brings it down on his ass with a sharp crack. Mark's eyes fly open, his face contorted in a mix of shock and pain. He tries to pull away, but the ropes hold him firm. Larissa's spanks are rhythmic, each one landing with precision on Mark's reddening ass. She watches with a strange fascination as his body responds, his cock growing harder with each smack. Rachel's hand slides down to his cock and gives it a squeeze. "Looks like someone's enjoying their punishment," she purrs.

Mrs. Taylor steps forward, her eyes gleaming. She takes the ginger from Rachel, and with one swift motion, pulls it out of Mark's anus. He cries out, his body spasming with the sudden relief.

"Thank you, girls," she says, her voice a purr. She turns to Mark, who's panting heavily, his face a map of agony. She runs her hand along his bound wrists, her fingertips grazing the red marks left by the ropes. "Now, let's see if you've learned your lesson," she says, her smile widening. She unbinds him, her movements almost tender.

As Mark stands, his legs wobble, and you can see the sweat beading on his forehead. Mrs. Taylor stands before him, her hand reaching out to cup his cock. It's still hard, despite the pain he's just endured. She strokes it gently, her eyes never leaving his. "You're such a good boy," she croons, her voice a mix of motherly affection and seductive power. "But we can't have you getting too comfortable, can we?"

Her grip tightens, and Mark's eyes widen in a mix of pleasure and pain. He tries to speak, but his voice is lost in a moan. "What's that?" she asks, tilting her head to the side, her hand never stopping its relentless motion. "Do you want more, Mark?"

He nods, his breath coming in ragged gasps "Lay down on the mat!" Mrs. Taylor's smile widens, and she gestures to Rachel and Emily, who move in closer, their hands reaching for Mark's body. Rachel grabs his face, forcing his eyes to meet hers. "Beg for it," she whispers, her voice low and dangerous.

Emily's hand wraps around his cock. She starts to stroke him in a rhythm that matches Rachel's words. "Beg," Rachel repeats, her eyes boring into his. "Please," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Please, give me more."

The class watches, their eyes glued to the scene before them. Larissa's smile is wide, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She's loving every moment of Mark's humiliation. The power has shifted in the room, and the girls are in control now.

Rachel and Emily move in closer, their naked bodies a stark contrast to Mark's trembling form. They start to kiss him, their tongues sliding against his, their hands roaming over his body. Rachel's hand reaches down to caress his cock, her touch surprisingly gentle after the roughness of earlier.

Larissa watches, not sure what's happening, but she knows she wants more. She looks up at Mrs. Taylor, who nods, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Go ahead, Larissa," she says, her voice a siren's call. "Take what's yours."

Without a second thought, Larissa straddles Mark's face, her pussy hovering just above his mouth. Rachel and Emily hold his head in place, their fingers digging into his scalp. "Lick me," she says, her voice firm. And with that, Mark's mouth opens, and he starts to lick, his tongue sliding over her clit, his nose pressed against her wetness.

The class watches, their eyes hungry, as Larissa rides Mark's face, her hips moving in time with Rachel and Emily's strokes. She throws her head back, her moans echoing through the hall. It's a strange, twisted dance of power and submission, and you can't help but feel a part of it — the thrill of watching, the ache of wanting to join [in.

As Larissa reaches her peak, Rachel and Emily let go of Mark's head, leaving him unsatisfied. The three girls stand over him, their bodies flushed with excitement. Mrs. Taylor claps her hands together, her eyes shining. "Class dismissed," she says, her voice sharp. "But remember, this was only the beginning."