Silken Manacles

Isn't it funny how the most incongruous of details seem to be the ones that linger in memory in times of extreme duress? This idea fluttered through Diane Greer's scattered thoughts as she watched two of her students enter the detention hall. Rumi Sakakura and Eileen Moss appeared right on time. This pleased her.

Having them come in wearing their street clothes and not the gray and black plaid uniforms of the Saint Immaculata School for Girls caused her no end of embarrassment. Couple that with the fact that Eileen's outfit would make Britney Spears consider covering up, and one could understand why Diane’s blood boiled. The two girls took seats in front of the teacher's large oak desk without making a sound. Rumi's eyes looked down, careful to avoid Diane's piercing gaze. Long, white satin ribbons twined through her shiny black hair and held it back, the precise geometric patterning hinting at hours of work. Who did up themselves that much to come to school? Diane looked over at Eileen who, unlike the abashed Rumi, glared right back at her. She saucily challenged Diane's authority.

"You do know that while you're on school property you must wear the proper uniform, do you not, Miss Moss?" Diane's clipped, even voice always made even the most truculent of students take notice and obey.

Not Eileen, though. The petite blonde looked most unimpressed. She gave Diane the barest of shrugs, a gesture that made her pert breasts jiggle in her baby blue halter top. The tight, elasticized material left nothing to the imagination. Every bump on her skin showed through the skintight material. Of course, since the garment had no midriff she revealed more skin than she hid. The Daisy Duke cutoffs revealed an indecent amount of ass and leg. Rumi’s white, skintight catsuit with front zipper at least concealed everything. Diane considered sending the girls out to change, but the detention had already begun. She'd let the matter slide this time.

"Please sit down and be silent. There'll be no talking for the next hour."

Eileen wore a small smile, an expression that touched her lips but never came close to reaching her eyes. Those glittered like twin aquamarines in their sockets.

"We've already taken our seats, Miss Greer," Eileen said. "But you knew that already." Eileen's insolent expression irked her. Diane wouldn't countenance this forward behavior from a student!

"When I say silence, I mean it, Eileen. There will be no talking here."

Eileen shrugged her bare shoulders. "As you wish," she replied, kicking up her legs on top of the desk. She crossed her heels as she leaned back in her chair.

Although Eileen's had closed her eyes, Diane knew the student lay in wait, trying to get a rise from her. She could feel the tension thrumming in the air. Rumi could sense it as well. An imaginary focal spot on her desk almost smoldered under her fixed stare.

Well, Diane wouldn't give Eileen satisfaction by bringing the matter up. She retrieved her novel ‘Women in Love’ from the top drawer and flicked it open to the page where she'd left off.

On the other side of the teacher's desk, Eileen's Cheshire-toothed smile widened. Rumi sighed. The game had begun.


Twenty minutes had passed. Twenty long, uncomfortable minutes for Diane. As much as she tried to enjoy her novel she couldn't get into it.

Eileen had embedded a splinter deep within Diane’s flesh, an irritant that would torment her without surcease until she extracted it. Every time Diane peeked over the top of her book, she saw Eileen lounging with her legs crossed on her desk and slim fingers laced over her bare tummy. The girl's cool demeanor annoyed her.

"Something wrong, teach?"

The insolent words struck Diane, sending quivers through her belly like waves around a stone tossed into a placid pool. The words, although whispered, grated in her ears.

"Nothing, Eileen. Please remain quiet, like Rumi."

"You sure nothing’s bothering you, Diane? You look like you really want to say something." Eileen's blue eyes had reopened, and she now stared into Diane's own.

"I won't tell you again –"

"Good, 'cause I've no intention of listening to you." Eileen spread her legs so that her sneaker covered feet hung off of the desktop, her toned calves resting upon on the corners of the wooden surface. A thin strip of denim ran up her crotch. One thing Diane now knew about her irksome student; she shaved her mound.

"Having a good look, teach? You know I wore these pants just for you," Eileen said. "I've been watching you scope me out for over three weeks. You like what you see?" Eileen hands stroked her inner thighs, running long fingernails over her silky skin. "I've been wondering how to approach you, and figured that direct confrontation would be the best in your case."

Diane stared openmouthed, still shocked both by what she heard and what she saw.

"Still unconvinced? I don't blame you. Let me prove that I'm serious, okay?" Eileen slipped the straps of her halter over her shoulders, then pulled down her top. Her firm breasts sprung out, the rosy areolas accenting the cherry stones upon them. Eileen roughly pinched them as she stared at her teacher. Her ass gyrated in her seat. "Did you ever imagine that you'd be sitting there looking at my naked tits? I doubt it." She pulled on her nipples, stretching out her breasts.

"I know you like what you see, Diane. I really get you hot, don't I?" Eileen’s hands mauled her breasts, pinking the pale skin on them. "Wouldn't you like to come over here and touch them?"

"I –" Diane's gaze shot over to Rumi, who hadn't twitched a muscle in over twenty minutes.

"Don't worry about Mouth. She won't say anything."

The name confused Diane. Rumi had to be one of the nicest, most quiet girls she knew. Music appreciation class became a joy because of her. The diminutive Japanese girl had an exceptional ear and a strong love of classical music. Diane loved that about her. Rumi also showed every teacher the respect that they were due, a trait lacking in many of the Occidental students at Immaculata.

"Mouth! Come over here and take care of my clothes," Eileen shouted. Rumi flinched, then slid out of her seat. She demurely approached Eileen from her right-hand side, standing in attendance like a maid did her lady. "Well?" Eileen fumed. "Get busy." A canvas-shod foot reached out, planting itself on the Japanese girl's sternum. Eileen jiggled Rumi's full, well-formed breasts with her toe. Rumi unlaced the running shoe then slipped it off of the girl's foot. The second shoe suffered a similar fate.

"My shorts next, Rumi dear," Eileen said. "Give her a good look at me. And of you, too. Unzip."

Rumi performed as required, sliding the tattered denim garment down over Eileen's ample curves. The shorts slid effortlessly down the long slopes of her legs, coming to rest at her feet. Eileen stepped out of her pants. She wore no underwear. Except for the halter which clung to her midsection, she stood nude. She pirouetted, turning around in a circle so Diane could drink in the sight of her. And drink she did, she realized with horror. Like a fool without sense she lapped up the wine from the poisoned cup Eileen offered her.

"Now take care of me," Eileen ordered the Japanese girl. "Show her how well you've been trained."

Eileen strode over to the teacher's desk and lay upon it, her breasts mere inches from Diane's lips. She gazed downwards upon her luscious form, knowing it to be a meal she dare not partake of.

"Hungry?" Eileen asked coquettishly.

In the meantime, Rumi had begun sucking the blonde's toes, splaying them apart, and running her tongue between each one. Her pink tongue bathed each petite digit in copious amounts of saliva, then she sucked each one into her mouth like a miniature cock. She gave them the same loving care with which a woman would take care of her man's penis. Each received meticulous attention. Eileen ignored the girl and her efforts.

"How long has it been for you, teach? I know how frustrated you old women get without regular servicing. How long since you tasted another woman's cunt?"

Diane didn't know how to answer. Her mouth opened and closed without sound, like a fish suddenly beached.

"Never," she whispered, the word slipping unbidden from between lips that snapped shut much too late.

"You're kidding me. You're a virgin dyke?" Eileen reached out a hand and stroked Diane’s back with a firm hand. The teacher melted under her caress.

"Wow. You really are. Nice! Hurry up," Eileen snapped to the Oriental girl who still worked over her feet. Eileen struck Rumi's cheek with the ball of her foot, making a loud smack. Rumi left her previous task and slid her mouth up the arch and over the heel, continuing up the long, rounded calf.

"Faster, I said!" Eileen grabbed Rumi by the top of her head and jammed her face into her pussy. Rumi fed there, wrapping long fingers behind Eileen's buttocks while she pressed her face deep into her mound.

"That's it, Mouth, suck me." Eileen's low voice smoldered, but held no genuine human warmth. She accepted the Asian girl's efforts as her due, nothing more. "I bet you wish you were me right now, don't you Diane?"

"Miss Greer," she said in a wavering voice, struggling to hold onto the last vestiges of her tattered authority.

"Miss Greer, hmm? How about Gash? What if I call you that from now on? I bet your pussy is leaking juice right now, isn't it?"

Eileen's hand flashed out, grabbing her by the right breast. Sharp, unpainted nails dug deep into the tender flesh, then twisted. Diane shrieked in surprise and pain.

"Answer me when I speak to you, Gash. You're wet, aren't you?"

"Yes." Diane wanted to die, humiliated by the girl’s perceptiveness. Her pussy had gone into production the moment the two sexy girls had entered the detention room.

"That's better. Tell me what you want, and you might just get it," she said. Laughter filled her voice, the joy that one feels only at the expense of another human being, and not from any true feelings of levity. "Harder," Eileen ordered, pressing Rumi's face down against her crotch. "Suck me like you mean it, Mouth."

"You want to know what this feels like, don't you?" Eileen said as she rubbed Rumi's shoulders, stroking the girl as one would a dog as she munched on Eileen’s sodden pussy. "Mouth's quite talented, believe me. A much better pussy eater than I am. I wouldn't be adverse to seeing her help you out a bit, teach."

"No Eileen," Rumi protested. The Japanese girl had raised her face, her slight pouty lips and full round cheeks glazed with female spend and saliva. "You can't just lend me out to anyone you wish."

"I can and will, Sweetness," Eileen replied. And just for that outburst, it won't be her cunt you'll be tasting. Gash, lay upon your desk face down, and spread those legs wide!"

What did she mean to do? Whatever she intended, Diane didn't mean to comply. She stared defiance back at the blonde temptress.

"A challenge, is that it? I don't think you want to push me, Gash. Bad things happen to those who fuck around with me. Ask Miss Brennan if you don't believe me."

Jackie Brennan had left Immaculata late in the school year. She'd been raped in her classroom after hours. Diane had seen police photos of the woman, with her blackened eyes, split lip and the myriad of ugly bruises that marred her flesh. Jackie had refused to go to the police, then had refused to cooperate with the authorities after the school brought in detectives against her wishes. Instead, she had tendered her resignation and left the institution for good. Diane's eyes widened.

"So you finally understand, eh? Jackie didn't think I deserved to pass Calculus. I had some of my boys ask her to reconsider. That bitch was a real screamer, let me tell you." A sadistic glint lit up her eyes, an excitement that had been missing even while experiencing Rumi's excellent tongue work. Eileen undid the small, dainty buttons that dotted the front of Diane's white cotton blouse. The blonde's dexterous fingers made short work of the garment. Eileen pulled the shirt open, then unclipped the practical white bra from the center. Diane's pale breasts sprung out, her coral colored areolas tipped by turgid brown nipples the thickness of a fingertip.

Eileen rubbed the bra between her fingers, then wiped them upon Diane's blouse with an exaggerated motion as if soiled. "Pretty ratty brassiere, Gash. Doesn't Immaculata pay better than that? Buy yourself some new things."

Immaculata paid fair wages but Diane still had to pay her leech of an ex-husband’s bills, the only thing she’d come away with from their divorce. A fair salary quickly dwindled to nothing when various creditors all siphoned off a bit of it before she even saw the money. Diane could just afford to pay her bills and eat with the remainder. She covered her breasts in shame, both from the nakedness, and from her financial difficulties that the sad state of her undergarments revealed.

"Did I say to stop?" Eileen said as she struck Rumi between her shoulder blades with the yardstick Diane had upon her desk. "Don't do so unless I order you." Rumi whimpered into Eileen's pussy.

"Now flip over, Gash. I won't ask you again." Eileen rose, pushing Rumi aside with a palm to the side of her head as she grabbed Diane by the hair and hauled her forwards. Diane clambered on top of the desk, her bare breasts cold against the chill wooden surface. Eileen had imparted no warmth to the dark stained wood, as if she were a reptile sunning herself on the rocks.

Diane had her shirt and bra peeled off of her and her dark gray, full-length skirt rolled up to her waist. Her bottom peered up at Eileen, who licked her lips in hunger and anticipation.

"Oh, Gash, very nice! You're pretty fit for your age. I like the way your pubes curl around your panties." A feather-light touch teased the curly strands that poked up along the sides of the white cotton panty like sprigs of heather on the heath. Without warning, Eileen pulled up the hem of the French cut briefs, lodging the crotch deep into Diane's puffy mound and her ass crack. Diane gasped in surprise.

"You love this, don't you? You're making a puddle on your desk. Look at you!" Eileen daubed her fingertips into the seepage, swirling it around in fancy curlicues like a child finger painting. She brought the musk scented, glistening dew over to Diane's face, holding it just under her nose. Diane shied away from it as if she held a blowtorch. No, the sexual heat radiating from Eileen would make a torch feel cold in comparison.

"Where you going, Gash?" Eileen grabbed a handful of Diane’s black curly hair and yanked her head to the side. Green, scared eyes met blue pitiless gemstones. "I don't think you're going anywhere too soon. Not until I finish with you." Eileen's face neared Diane's, the girl's fragrance inundating Diane's senses. She smelled of sandalwood and vanilla. Diane found her head craning upwards, searching for the lovely scent. Eileen looked startled for a split-second before seizing the reins of control once more. Diane's scalp felt like it would split as Eileen twisted her fist, pulling her hair even more than before. Diane gasped in the pain she felt.

Eileen jammed her fingers into Diane's open mouth, rolling them around her tongue like a dollop of butter on a hot skillet. She tasted butter-sweet, the rich, familiar taste of her sexual spend a long savored delight. Diane moaned around Eileen's hand. Her nipples stood right out, so long and hard that her tits itched.

"You do like this, don't you? That's nice to know. Show me how much you like it." Eileen worked her two fingers in and out of her newfound Gash, Diane sucking at them as she would a man's penis. Her tongue danced crazily around the hand, trying in vain to pry the two fingers apart. Her strong tongue couldn't insinuate itself between Eileen's probing fingers. Those thrusting digits pressed against her tongue, stimulating saliva production. The warm fluids seeped out of her mouth and down her chin with excruciating slowness. Diane dripped from both of her orifices, the clear magma identical looking at either end. Both her pussy and her mouth felt aflame.

Diane felt her drawers being rolled down, the plain cotton briefs sliding over her plump, long legs. Rumi pushed a short, foot long ruler through the leg holes and spun it around to make a crude tourniquet capable of lashing Diane’s legs together at the ankles. Thus bound, Diane felt almost obliged to enjoy her tormentor's ministrations. Rumi pulled Diane’s arms behind her, tying them tightly together with the satin ribbons from her hair. Manacles of niveous silk held Diane captive.

Eileen clambered on to the desk, sliding her lithe legs to either side of Diane's head as she nestled the tousled head snugly between her powerful thighs. Diane felt a moment's confusion as her sense of hearing died, stripped from her by the soft, steely flesh that pressed inwards upon her ears. The silken vice tightened even more.

Then, without warning, Eileen felt warm breath stir the fine hairs around her asshole as her ass cheeks separated. She struggled in vain to free herself. Eileen held her in check without effort, the angler keeping her twitching fish on its baited hook with the ease of long experience. Diane clamped shut her eyes, seeking to hide her humiliation by cutting off her vision.

She felt hot, damp breath upon her intimate rear crevice, the halcyon wind stirring the fine hairs that lay nestled in her nether valley. Those questing hairs received constant stroking, sending Diane into a near delirious state. Hot tears crept out from between imperfectly sealed eyelids, splattering against her desk along with her own sweet lubrication. For, even now, her mellifluous pussy hadn't stopped producing its honey.

Warmth suffused her entire being, intense heat that must blister her flesh. Diane flexed her legs, tensing them within her bonds. Her ass cheeks tightened, the globular buns contending with the insistent hands that sought to keep her rear spread and vulnerable.

Eileen crept closer, sliding closer to Diane. She'd loosened her clenching thighs just enough to reposition the captured woman's head, whose neck craned upwards until less than an inch separated her face from the blonde's puffy pussy lips. The girl had a heavy cloying scent, like a cheaply perfumed whore in a packed elevator. The sharp scent repulsed her. Diane tried to pull backwards, an endeavor that only resulted in the thigh-trap tightening and the hands at her rear sinking strong fingers into her spongy bottom.

Her ass cheeks parted, more insistent than before, and hot wetness sluiced down the opening. Diane hissed in surprise.

"Gash, you gotta learn to be quiet. You're going to get all of us in the shit. Then again, Mouth will be in the shit within a few seconds anyway." Eileen barked at her own crude humor, tightening her thighs even more. Diane looked upon the well used pussy in front of her. She had dreamed of this, being in front of the lovely, willing woman, desiring nothing more than to dive in and sate herself upon that which Eileen offered her. But never before had she imagined that a vagina so young could look so abused. Its inner lips were long and distended, colored a deep, rippled brown. Her inner depths shone pink, but not the healthy fresh pink of an apple blossom, but the darker, burnt umber of the withering rose perishing with agonizing slowness within its vase. Diane scrunched shut her eyes, refusing to gaze upon the repugnant flesh of the blonde eighteen year old temptress.

An iron bar plumbed deep within her rectum, a glowing, hot member fresh from the forge fire. It violated her heretofore unexplored backside, striking deep within her bowels. It pried open both of her sphincter muscles, entering her depths without resistance. Never before had she experienced anything like this. Diane squealed, the undignified noise echoing throughout the small room.

"Sounds like we have contact," Eileen said, stroking Diane's head. "Mouth, give this girl a real workout." Eileen released Diane's head, allowing her to pull herself up from the desk. Her turgid nipples ground hard against the wood-grain of her desk, completing a current between the three women. Rumi's tongue dug even deeper within Diane, corkscrewing into the tight bung as if it sought to widen her rear entrance. Muscles strained against muscle as Diane's sphincter sought to force out Rumi's probing tongue. Outer and inner sphincter rings bore down upon the wriggling intruder, seeking to expel it from her bowels. Voluntary and involuntary muscles alike worked in tandem to repel the anal invader. But Rumi would not be routed. She mated her face hard against the prone woman's ass crack, applying even more force to it. Diane writhed in the agony of absolute pleasure.

"Don't that feel nice, Gash? Happiness is a clean colon, methinks. I know I love it when Mouth gets busy tidying up my backyard. I hope you like it as much as I do. I know I love it all the more because she hates doing it." Eileen's cackle made Diane's face grow red.

"Please make this stop, Eileen."

"Call me Miss Moss like you usually do. Don't think that just because I'll soon be fucking you that we've become intimate."

"Miss Moss, please!" Diane gulped, forcing air into her rapidly working lungs. Her whole body burned. "Please make Rumi stop."

"Why? Don't you like Mouth's tongue work? I rather think you do. Show me what you're feeling by doing it to me."


"Eat me, Gash. Eat my pussy like Rumi is eating your ass. Whatever you feel, you do to me."

"I can't!" She spoke the truth. Even the thought of touching that abused, twisted bundle of flesh spread before her made innards knot. She wanted nothing to do with that pile of tainted meat.

Her head jerked upwards, pulled up by the roots. A full handed slap caught her on the side of the cheek, followed by a return blow on the other side. Diane saw stars blossom in her vision. "Never say that to me. Deny me and you'll learn the ways of serious pain, Gash." As if to emphasize her point, Eileen grabbed a nipple and twisted it unmercifully. As Diane’s mouth opened, ready to squeal, her head was shoved down into Eileen’s dampening recesses.

She drowned in filth, overwhelmed by the sour repast spread before her. Nothing could prepare her for the rankness of the girl; not an actual stench, but a psychic one due to the rancor with which the blonde treated other people. Her disdain for others seeped from her like methane gas from a bog, the foul miasma detectable by anyone in close proximity to her. Diane's ardor waned before the pink lipped onslaught, only kept buoyed by the loving attentions that the slight Japanese girl lavished upon her ass.

Rumi; the raven haired, diametric opposite of the callous blonde. Rumi treated everyone well. For some reason this turned the other students off. Few students spoke to her, and she had no friends that Diane could recall. None save for Eileen, whose relationship with Rumi went beyond friendship. Rumi excelled in many things – in volleyball, in chess, and especially in music. She had an artist's soul and a face any sculptor would love to carve in warm, smooth wood. Diane considered her Good People. People like her always suffered the most.

Diane had thought to free the girl from this base task, but she couldn't deny that Rumi’s tongue work in her ass felt exquisite. Rumi did everything she attempted well, no matter how beneath her it seemed. Whatever she must do she would do to the best of her ability.

The pleasure that Rumi created filled Diane to bursting, raging inside her like a tempest in a bottle. It flowed out from every orifice she possessed, including her mouth. The joy that Rumi gave her translated into a quivering, thirsty tongue that gave pleasure in return. Diane quite forgot about her revulsion and dove into Eileen, lapping at her pussy with reckless abandon.

"Oh yeah. That's it, Gash. Show me what a filthy slut you are."

Diane remained oblivious to the harsh words. Eileen lost all importance to her. Only the wonderful feelings that Rumi provided mattered. The resultant display of affection that Diane lavished upon Eileen was merely an incidental byproduct.

Just when Diane thought that nothing more that the pretty Japanese girl could do to her would matter, that if any more sexual elation filled her skin with split like a serpent's molted skin, Rumi released one of Diane's ass cheeks and stroked her soft fingertips along the ridges of Diane's sex. Just that, the barest of touches directly upon her, but it had momentous effect. Diane screamed in unadulterated bliss, her shouts of pleasure coursing down Eileen's slick chasm like runoff into a sewer. Eileen's pit swallowed up all light, all love. It's inky impenetrability sucked Diane's jubilation into the void, returning nothing.

Rumi would not let this be.

Rumi worked hard, her rapturous tongue now competing with her probing, questing fingers. They pinched at Diane’s sensitive inner folds, tweaking them until they stiffened like a deacon's starched collar. Warmth suffused the entire area, unbelievable heat that Diane had never experienced in all her days. Her body glowed, the sweat slickened body a quivering mass of pale flesh splotched with ruddy patches. Rumi instinctively knew what Diane needed, even if Diane did not herself. Sure she like gentleness, but she craved roughness. Rough sport, but not cruelty. This distinction Eileen would never fathom.

Rumi dug stiffened fingers into Diane, forcing four fingers of her slight hand into Diane's sopping pussy. Diane wailed deep into Eileen, then redoubled her ferocious tongue attack upon her ravaged pussy.

"What's getting into you, Gash? You’re suddenly sucking snatch like you've been doing it all your life."

As before, Diane remained oblivious, Eileen’s scathing words unaffecting her. Diane's entire world consisted of her asshole, her pussy, and her mouth. Nothing else from the outside world penetrated her consciousness.

Rumi continued pounding her hand into Diane’s slit, working the fragrant, well-slickened sheath hard, Diane's frothed lubrication turning white against the girl's golden skin. Flecks of churned cream flew, the whitecaps sprinkling Rumi's cheeks and the desk with her creamy benediction. Diane's tongue went into overdrive, providing pleasure to Eileen that Rumi herself would be hard-pressed to top.

"Slow down, Gash. You'll exhaust yourself. Take it, Gash. Oh!" Diane’s lips latched around Eileen's clitoris, her tongue teasing the hooded tyrant out of its protective folds of skin. Diane sucked hard, pulling the fleshy pip of pleasure into her mouth. Eileen gasped.

"Don't do that unless I tell you to!"

Just then Rumi drove her tongue deeper into Diane, the lunge coming so hard and fast that it felt like the Japanese girl's tongue would exit through Diane's mouth. Diane's body tensed, spasming at the surprise move. Her jaws clenched shut.

Eileen wailed, the banshee cry shrill enough to shatter glass. She flew from the desk. Her hands grabbed at her privates, gingerly searching for her pleasure bud. Her fingers told her that it remained connected to her.

She watched in awe as Rumi continued her work. The full curves of Diane's ass obscured the girl's face. Blue-black, glossy hair cascaded over the older woman's almost-spherical asscheeks. Wet sloppy sounds came from between them as Rumi performed her acts of love. Diane writhed like a worm on a hook, her body twisting in short, frantic bursts of motion as it sought to escape. Rumi kept her worm on the fleshy pink needle she skewered her with. Diane remained pinioned to the table both by the tongue that drove into her bowels and by the invisible ropes of the purest sexual pleasure; by bonds of undisguised need.

Diane quivered all over, rock-hard nipples scraping at the desk, grating uncomfortably against the aged oak as her orgasm took her. Never before had it felt this raw, this intense. She thought she would die from the overwhelming ecstasy. Only now did she understand why the French called it the Little Death.

Her orgasm subsided, leaving her worn out, amazed and content. She curled up into a little ball on her desk, almost fetal, her legs still bound by her own panties and a ruler. Rumi released her, rubbing Diane’s ankles with great tenderness and a deft touch to get the blood circulating. Sharp pinpricks raced over her skin, bringing tears to Diane's eyes. Her licorice black, short-heeled pumps had fallen to the floor long before. Rumi massaged the soles of Diane’s bare feet, restoring the blood flow to them. Her pink tongue washed over the skin, forcing itself between her toes. Being handled so tenderly made fresh tears spill over Diane's cheeks.

"You think you are crying now? I'll show you what happens to careless bitches like you. You almost ripped my clit off!" Eileen had grabbed a yardstick from the floor and now raised it above her head, threatening to strike Diane with it. In a flash Rumi interposed herself between the two. She reached up and caught Eileen's wrist as it descended. Eileen face registered shock, both at the girl's insolence and at her surprising, heretofore unknown strength. The willowy, golden skinned arm didn't budge. Eileen strained to free herself, but could not.

"You will not strike her, Eileen. Never."

Rumi plucked the yardstick from Eileen's fingers then tossed it across the classroom, letting it clatter away. "You enjoy hurting people far too much. This will end today."

"You thinking of taking me on, Mouth? Don't even try."

"What's to try?" Rumi's laconic response infuriated Eileen. Crimson suffused her cheeks. "We are done as of this moment." Rumi pulled Eileen's head to her, kissing her deeply for several seconds. Their tongues tumbled together, writhing like snakes in a pit. Saliva dribbled out of the corner of Eileen's mouth, hanging from her chin in fat, pregnant drops. Rumi broke the kiss. Eileen was shocked to discover that her eyes had closed on their own.

"Wipe your face," Rumi said, derision larding her voice and filling her eyes. "You never were a good kisser. You lack all self control. I am glad to be done with you."

"We're not through until I say so, Mouth. You're mine."

"Not so. We will never have sex again, you and I." Rumi's soft, gentle voice had the tone of finality within it. She turned her back on Eileen and gazed upon the sobbing woman who lay curled upon the desk.

"Why do you cry? I did my best to please you." Rumi's wide, fawn-brown eyes searched Diane's for the answer. Diane wiped the tears from her eyes with the corner of her earlier discarded blouse. She pushed herself up from the tabletop with trembling arms.

"I never thought sex could feel that way."

"What way is that?" Rumi asked her.

Diane didn't know for sure. She had experienced orgasms before. But never an orgasm with the same passion, the same level of intensity.

"I felt like I was the most important thing in the world to someone, even if only for a short time."

"It can be that way for a very long time if you so wish it."

"I do wish it," Diane said. She realized that the heartfelt words were true.

"So shall it be," Rumi said. Her grin made the sun seem dim. "Get dressed, Diane. We shall go somewhere and talk."

"Miss Greer," Diane corrected.

"Miss Greer during school hours, certainly. Appearances must be kept. I do not wish to cause you any embarrassment. But I will call you Diane after hours, if I may. I did have my tongue up your ass. Why so formal now?"

Diane looked stunned by the girl's forthrightness. A smile crept over her face, then it split, forming a grin that rivaled Rumi's own. Rumi dressed her, allowing her talented finders to roam over Diane's lush body as she buttoned up the wrinkled blouse, then smoothed the gray wool skirt over Diane's large, round bottom. Rumi's nails raked over her posterior, sending vibrations through the thin material right into her flesh. "I think I love this part of you the best," Rumi whispered. "Eileen's body always reminded me of a boy's. You have a soft, mature woman's body. I like that."

"I've never been called old and flabby in such a nice way before."

"Being in your thirties doesn't make you old."

"Old enough."

"And I am old enough to choose who my lovers are," Rumi countered. She kept stroking the older woman's backside. Diane craned her face over to Rumi as if for a kiss. Rumi shied her head away.

"Not now. My mouth is filthy, Diane. Wait until I can brush and rinse."

"What about the kiss you gave Eileen?" Diane glanced over toward the stunned blonde who hadn't moved during the entire exchange. Funny, she seemed so imposing only a few minutes before. Now she looked as withered and used up as her womanhood.

"That slut can bloat and turn green for all I care," Rumi pronounced. "Let her get an infection and die."

"Wouldn't that mean you would die from the same condition?"

"Perhaps," Rumi said in a wry tone, "but the mosquito carries malaria without perishing from it."

Diane laughed, amused by this unexpected side to Rumi's passive nature. "Yes Rumi, we must talk."

"Call me Mouth. Please?" Rumi asked. She dropped her eyes to the floor, submissive shyness implicit in the gesture.

"Don't you find that insulting?"

"It is just a word, Diane. One only gets upset if they accept all of the baggage that is associated with the term. I do have a beautiful smile. Why should I not be proud of it?"

"A beautiful, most talented mouth," Diane agreed.

"You two aren't going anywhere!" Eileen shook in her rage, all of the ugliness of her person visible. "You want some of what Jackie got, then take a step out that door without my say-so."

"Or you will do what, Eileen? Have us beaten? Spread rumors through the school about Diane and myself? What will you do?" As she spoke, Rumi approached the pissed off girl, standing so near to her that their noses almost touched. "Let me tell you something, Cunt. You like to boast far too much about your misdeeds. I have hours of audiotape about many of your crimes, including how you arranged the rape and the assault of Miss Brennan and your blackmailing of other faculty members for good grades. I have recordings about other things, like how your father and brothers repeatedly raped you from the age of five up until last year. Try anything, and I will get you at your entire twisted family thrown into prison. At the very least, it will discredit anything you say. My father is a diplomat, Cunt. We have money. Many things work differently in Japan, it is true, but some things work very much the same between Japan and the West." Rumi leaned in closer, breathing the words into Eileen's ear.

"My father has strong ties to the Yakuza. Most successful businessmen do if they wish to keep their fortunes. People who trouble my clan tend to vanish. Especially pesky Gaijin like you." Rumi smiled, a feral grin that looked quite incongruous when compared to her warm brown eyes. "Your fair hair and pert ass would fetch us a good price in some of our Hostess Bars in Shibuya and Harajuku."


"Don't speak to me again, Eileen. Your pedophile father won't be able to locate your remains if you do. Then again, I doubt the sick bastard would even bother making the effort to find you." Rumi stroked the side of Eileen's face with the back of her slim hand. Just as Eileen leaned into it, attempting to prolong the contact, Rumi withdrew it. "Thank you for introducing me to Miss Greer. I wouldn't have had the nerve to do so on my own. Bitches like you do have some value, Eileen."

Rumi brushed past the stricken girl, efficiently arranging her rumpled clothing. "Diane, are you ready to go?"
"Yes, Mouth."

Rumi smiled at Diane's awkward attempt to use her nickname. Time would make it seem more natural for her. "Then let us depart." Rumi exited the room without a backward glance for her former lover.

"I'll make you pay, Gash. One day you'll suffer for this." Diane almost didn’t hear Eileen's whispered threat.

Diane looked over the pathetic student. She seemed so frail now, so small and vulnerable. Here stood the unwanted child that sobbed silently for attention and affection. But this guttersnipe had sharp teeth and would think nothing about biting the hand that stretched forward in friendship or in aid. No, much better to keep all of her fingers intact. "One day, perhaps. But today is not that day." Indeed, today belonged to Diane. Diane, and Rumi. She left the girl alone in the detention hall to study the true meaning of suffering and loss.

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