**Disclaimer: This story is entirely a work of fiction. All depictions of rape, violence and other illegal behaviours are merely fantasy. This writer does not condone sexual violence of any kind.**
*About Author: 21, F, Uni student, Australia*
PART 2
It was cold. Students were bundled up in thick coats, hurrying from one end of campus to the other, using their notebooks and folders to shield themselves from the gentle sprinkle of rain. The University was quiet, sleeping, like a giant beast in hibernation. From inside the warm office, Isabella absent-mindedly stared at the condensation on the window – her gaze followed the little drops of moisture as they gained speed and raced one another down the glass pane. She wore an oversized hoodie and fleece trackies, with her hair in a simple ponytail.
The Vice-Chancellor of the University was a charming and warm man. It was easy to get an appointment with Mr Fitzroy despite his busy schedule. He was older, but was undeniably attractive with his sleek grey hair, charcoal suit and piercing eyes – a true silver fox. He had welcomed Isabella into his office and offered her a seat and some tea.
Isabella liked the Vice-Chancellor’s office. Two bookshelves on opposite walls stretched to the ceiling, filled with all sorts of volumes and ornaments. There was a couch in the corner and a heavy mahogany desk towards the window, behind which Mr Fitzroy sat with his fingers steepled. On the other side of the desk, Isabella was perched gingerly on the edge of the armchair – her pussy still sore from the way Professor Tasgonne had mercilessly taken her virginity yesterday.
“So, Isabella, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Through hiccupping sobs, Isabella reported her ordeal, “I know I’ve done something bad. I shouldn’t have plagiarised that paper, I know. It was a mistake and I won’t do it again. I just wanted Professor Tasgonne to give me another chance, but he – but I didn’t mean for – but he, he hurt me.”
“This is a very serious accusation, Isabella,” the Vice-Chancellor stated with furrowed brows.
“I don’t know what to do. Should I call the police? I know the University has internal disciplinary measures, so I thought I’d come to you first.”
“Well, I think we should call Professor Tasgonne in here, see what he has to say about all this.”
“What? No, I don’t think – I don’t feel comfortable seeing him again. You don’t believe me?”
“Just better to iron out any kinks in the story, you understand? ‘Unreliable narrator’ and whatnot,” Mr Fitzroy chuckled at his own literary joke, having been the Head of the English Faculty before he was promoted to Vice-Chancellor.
Isabella hurriedly gathered her things and stood to leave the office, but Professor Tasgonne had already arrived, closing the heavy wooden door behind him.
“Professor Tasgonne, welcome. Isabella here was just telling me about some very indecent activities you’ve been engaging in.”
“I know nothing of the sort,” Professor Tasgonne replied with a sly smile.
“What? I – I have bruises on my hips where you forced me against your desk. I’m aching and raw between my legs. Y-You did this to me,” Isabella protested.
The Vice-Chancellor leaned back in his office chair, crossed his arms and seemed deep in thought. Carefully, he said, “Well I think I need to see some proof to know whether to believe you. Can you show me these bruises, Isabella?”
Mr Fitzroy’s words were gentle and his hands soft. When he walked over to Isabella and began undressing her, she did not protest – the Vice-Chancellor’s tender touch made her feel inexplicably safe. Despite leaving her dorm this morning in deliberately unrevealing clothes, she found herself even more exposed than yesterday – she stood naked before Mr Fitzroy and Professor Tasgonne, her clothes discarded in a pile on the floor and her hands futilely trying to cover herself.
Isabella’s nipples – like pink cherries on top of two fluffy cupcakes – grew stiff despite the heated office. Her tight, flat tummy rippled with anxiety. There was an angry bruise across her pelvis – red hues blending into purple, yellow and blue – caused by being repeatedly slammed against the edge of Professor Tasgonne’s desk. The bruise stopped just before the small tattoo on her upper hip – a bouquet of tulips tied with rope. Her small pink labia peeked out from underneath her trimmed pubic hair. Her plump ass cheeks jiggled when she moved.
Isabella noticed a large bulge growing in Mr Fitzroy’s pants as his stiffening penis strained against the fabric. Panicking, she bent down to retrieve her clothes, “This meeting was a mistake, I’m sorry. I take back everything I said. Please forget this. I just want to go now.”
The Vice-Chancellor stood where he was, but Professor Tasgonne moved with speed and ferocity. He smacked Isabella’s face, three sharp slaps on the left check followed by a backhand on the right. Stars exploded in her vision as she fell to the ground. She could do nothing as Professor Tasgonne wrapped her long brown hair in his hand, ripping at her scalp, pulling her towards the couch. She was forced to crawl and follow Professor Tasgonne on all fours to relieve the strain on her hair. Isabella’s tiny, firm body was dragged onto the white leather couch, positioned on her hands and knees with her bubbly ass up in the air.
Professor Tasgonne had kicked off his pants, and Isabella was confronted with the penis that had forced itself into her tight virgin hole only a day before. She desperately shook her head no, tears springing up in her eyes, but her movement was limited by the tight grip Professor Tasgonne had on the back of her head. He sat on the end of the couch, and pushed Isabella’s head down towards his hard cock which glistened with precum. Tears, snot and saliva dribbled down onto the professor’s lap as he viciously forced Isabella’s mouth up and down along the length of his shaft. In this doggy position, Isabella’s firm tits hung and jiggled enticingly as the professor face-fucked her. Professor Tasgonne used his free hand to smack her tits and pinch her sensitive nipples as he continued to force his cock between her soft lips with long, deep thrusts. She whimpered, her mouth filled with cock, and begged incomprehensively for Mr Fitzroy to intervene.
Only then did the Vice-Chancellor, Mr Fitzroy, start talking, “Let me be perfectly clear, just so there are no misunderstandings, Isabella. You’re a worthless whore who has, luckily, found her purpose.” Isabella felt him move towards the couch and his soft hands caressed her back, buttocks and thighs. In her preoccupied state, she could not stop him from trailing his fingertips along her sore slit and puckered anus, making her squirm uncomfortably. “Can you guess what that purpose is? I’ll give you a clue: it’s to serve your Masters and put these tight holes to good use.” She could only gag in response as Professor Tasgonne’s cock continued to pummel her throat with increasing cruelty. “I think on some level, you know you deserve to be punished,” Mr Fitzroy chuckled, “but don’t worry – you’ll get a High Distinction for that paper. We can think of other ways to punish you for being a little cock-tease, and for the plagiarism, of course.”
In this powerless position, Mr Fitzroy had unencumbered access to Isabella’s lower half – her top half currently being enjoyed by Professor Tasgonne. Isabella felt Mr Fitzroy’s hands grip her hips, his hot breath on her inner thighs, small kisses on her clit, nibbles on her labia, and she renewed her efforts to escape. She pushed against Professor Tasgonne, tried to kick Mr Fitzroy, but her struggles went unnoticed.
“Is this little cunt sore? Hmm? Is this where the bad man touched you?” Mr Fitzroy soothing voice took on a mocking tone. His experienced tongue delved into the folds of Isabella’s pussy, tasting her sweet yet musky juices. Her vaginal muscles spasmed uncontrollably and she whined pitifully, unfamiliar with being touched like that, but the Vice-Chancellor kept driving his tongue in and out, up and down, flicking and biting her sensitive nub.
“Well, luckily for you, I’ll give this aching cunt a break,” Mr Fitzroy teased, withdrawing from Isabella’s pussy. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, but the relief was premature.
Mr Fitzroy spat into his hand and lubricated his huge cock. The panic-sweating quickly returned when Isabella felt Mr Fitzroy’s girthy cock press against her anal opening. With her nose pressed against Professor Tasgonne’s crotch and his entire cock impaled in her throat, Isabella’s scream was more like an urgent, warbled whimper as Mr Fitzroy’s cock ripped through her most private and tight hole. Inch by inch, the giant pole forced itself into her impossibly tight asshole, oblivious to her agony and the rivers of tears running down her face. Isabella felt as though she was being ripped in half or that her asshole had been set on fire. Her sphincter stretched beyond belief in an effort to swallow Mr Fitzroy’s invading cock.
The Vice-Chancellor grunted in ecstasy as he slowly pulled his cock from her abused asshole, admiring the way her tight hole gripped and clung to his cock like a vortex. His cock pulled free with an audible pop, and he spread her ass cheeks apart to force her asshole to gape obscenely. Entering her warm hole again, Mr Fitzroy picked up the pace, denying Isabella’s asshole the luxury of adjusting in its own time. Isabella’s muscles flexed involuntarily and tried to push the giant penis out of her body, but the throbbing and tightening of her sphincter only added to Mr Fitzroy’s pleasure.
The two men established a brutal rhythm, spit-roasting Isabella and pumping into her from both ends. Her body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and hung limp, as she had given up control of what was happening to her. She did not protest when Professor Tasgonne filled her mouth with salty, bitter semen, which leaked from her swollen lips onto the couch, and she only quietly sobbed when Vice-Chancellor Fitzroy emptied his balls into her brutalised anus with a primal roar.
Yet, the office door remained locked, as the two men were not finished with Isabella. A camera captured the events of the next few hours, recording Isabella’s pained expressions and desperate sobs. The professor and Vice-Chancellor easily held up Isabella’s small frame between them whilst standing. They pumped their cocks into her twitching asshole and wet cunt, leaving her mouth free to beg and wail and scream. They thrusted upwards in a synchronised fashion, spreading Isabella’s tender holes in rhythm and making her feel impossibly filled.
By the end of the night, Isabella’s recently-pure pussy and asshole were gaping wide and leaking several loads of cum down her legs. She lay motionless on the couch, too sore and exhausted to even clean herself up.
Outside, the Autumn rain continued to softly pitter-patter against the window of the Vice-Chancellor’s office.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/olde49/isabella_used_and_abused_part_2_mmf_noncon
So hot. Can’t wait for part 3