The dart board

You turn to Mr Smith, extending your hand. "Six more. Petite. Like Channy. I want to rent them out to select clients."

He grips your hand firmly, a malicious grin spreading across his weathered face. "I'll have them prepped within the month. You won't be disappointed, Headmaster."

You nod, already calculating profits. Men will pay premium for girls who can be fucked unconscious, their limp bodies used without resistance. You release his hand, turning toward the far corner of the lounge.

The giant dartboard dominates the wall, ringed with colored lights. A girl is tied spread-eagle against it, her naked body stretched taut in painful X formation. Brunette curls plaster her damp forehead. Her double D tits heave with each shuddering breath, painted with angry red marks and small puncture wounds.

Molly.

She's curvy, maybe twenty-one, her swollen pussy vacuum-pumped until it resembles a grotesque flower—labia engorged and protruding, clit plump and prominent. The marks of previous rounds cover her body like a map of suffering.

The teacher overseeing the game approaches you, clipboard in hand. "Care for a round, Headmaster? Molly failed to finish me before the bell rang. Twenty-three points wins the night."

He gestures to a small table beside the dartboard. A dart gun rests there, loaded with thin acupuncture needles. Beside it, a petite redhead kneels, eyes downcast, her schoolgirl uniform rumpled and barely containing her modest curves.

"This little one will distract you while you shoot," the teacher explains. "Her mouth is exceptionally talented."

You approach, unbuckling your trousers as the redhead crawls toward you. Her small hands work your zipper with practiced ease, extracting your already hardening cock. She takes the base in her palm, guiding the tip to her lips.

She doesn't wait for instruction. Her mouth envelops you, tongue swirling around the head, sucking you deep. Her throat convulses, accepting your entire length without gagging.

You pick up the dart gun, pressing its cold metal against your palm. Molly whimpers, eyes wide and pleading. Tears streak down her cheeks.

The redhead's mouth works faster, her tongue tracing the underside of your shaft, licking and sucking in rhythm. She's good—too good. Her saliva coats you, making her movements slick and wet.

You raise the dart gun, squinting down the sights. The redhead cups your balls, massaging them gently, her lips never leaving your cock.

*Pop.*

The dart flies. Molly screams, arching against her bonds, her swollen labia pierced by the needle. It quivers there, buried deep in the sensitive flesh.

"Five points," the teacher announces, marking his clipboard.

The redhead moans around your cock, her enthusiasm growing. Her tongue flicks the underside of your head, teasing your sensitive ridge.

You load another dart. Align your shot.

*Pop.*

Molly's left tit takes the hit, needle sinking into the soft curve of her breast just above her nipple. She sobs, body jerking, her pussy clenching visibly around nothing.

"Two points."

The redhead pulls off, licking your shaft from base to tip. She takes just the head in her mouth, sucking gently, her eyes locked on yours. Her hand strokes the rest of your length, squeezing slightly.

You aim again.

*Pop.*

Her right labia. Molly screams, her voice cracking, body trembling. The needle vibrates with each shudder.

"Five points."

The redhead deep-throats you again, her nose pressed against your pelvis, holding you there while her tongue works the underside of your cock. Your hand tightens on the gun.

You fire three more darts in rapid succession—her right nipple, her left labia again, the soft flesh of her stomach. Each hit earns points, each scream music to your ears.

"Seventeen points," the teacher announces. "One more shot for the win."

You pause, savoring the power in your hand. The redhead sucks you desperately, her throat milking your arousal, drool sliding down your shaft.

Molly's clit is untouched.

You load the last dart. The redhead releases you, gasping for air, her hand still pumping your wet cock.

You aim dead center. The swollen bundle of nerves throbs, vacuum-pumped and sensitive, a perfect target.

*Pop.*

The needle strikes true. Molly's scream pierces the lounge, raw and agonized. Her body convulses wildly, her pussy leaking clear fluid as she cums from pure shock and pain.

You and the teacher laugh, the sound echoing off the walls.

He approaches the dartboard, slapping Molly's pussy hard with his open palm. The impact jostles the needles, making her whimper fresh tears.

"This will teach you to be a better cum receptacle," he growls, his hand striking again. "Maybe next time you'll swallow quickly enough."

The redhead below you whimpers, her mouth still toying with your hardening cock.