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Subject: {ASSM} NEW: "T.Y.T.C. 4.2 - Teresa's Tale" - by The StoryMaster - [M+~TeenF+, nc] 2/?
Date: Tue, 18 Apr 2000 09:10:03 -0400
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The following story is a work of fiction. Its contents are of a
graphically sexual nature and may involve non-consensual sexual acts
between underage partners. Any resemblance to persons either alive or
dead is purely coincidental. This story is intended for ADULTS only.
If you are under the legal age of consent in your local jurisdiction,
or if you are easily offended, kindly STOP READING NOW.
Authors Note: As a rule I prefer not to post multi-part stories, but
this one is getting so very long that unfortunately, I must.
_______________________________________________________
T.Y.T.C. 4.2 - Teresa's Tale - by - The StoryMaster
"Well, here we go again, Alex, my friend," Adam North, Headmaster of
The Youth Training Center said to his Chief Handler. His tone of
voice clearly revealed his growing frustration. "The Facility most
certainly owes us one now." He smiled wryly. "Eighteen years old and
a known troublemaker, you say?"
"Yes sir," Alex answered in a professional tone. "That's the report
I've received, not to mention the talk around the water cooler. All
indications suggest that Miss Davidson will be problematic at the very
least. Anything useful in her dossier?" Alex asked hopefully.
"Nothing remarkable, I'm afraid," North said, flipping the manilla
file folder open on his desk. The first page listed the young lady's
personal data beside a photograph.
Teresa Anne Davidson
DOB: 4/21/82
Hair: Dark Chestnut
Eyes: Green
Height: 5'-6"
Weight: 111 lbs.
Hips: 32"
Waist: 20"
Breasts: 35"
Relative: Timothy Davidson (Father)
Status: Divorced
"Miss Davidson's records indicate that she is currently engaged to be
married to a lawyer, of all things." The two men exchanged
distasteful looks. "A guy by the name of Gregory Whitworth." North
read on in silence for a moment. He'd really only had the time to
give the young lady's file a cursory glimpse before now. That's how
busy The Center was these days. "Now this is interesting," North
said, glancing up at Alex who sat opposite his desk. Alex gave him a
curious look. "It appears that our young lady prefers older men. If
I'm reading this file correctly, and I believe I am, Miss Davidson's
beau is forty-one years of age."
"That might be useful," Alex commented. "Perhaps we should start her
off with a series of very young partners, since it appears our girl
derives at least a portion of her self-image from her association with
more mature role models. The emotional role reversal will help to
keep her off balance for awhile. It could be too that Miss Davidson
has had some past encounters with her divorced father," Alex
speculated.
"Might be worth a try," the Headmaster thoughtfully agreed. "Who is
the youngest Handler currently in our employ, and is he engaged at
this time?"
Alex pulled his Palm Pilot from a breast pocket of his coveralls.
Quickly he scrolled through his list of staff after having first
sorted them by age. "Two hold promise, sir," Alex said after his
brief search. "Scott Case is seventeen years old and has been with us
for three years. He started as a night partner, but quickly proved
himself capable of command. He was assigned his first Guest when he
was only fifteen and a half. His success record is exemplary."
"And the other?" Adam North asked.
"Norman Thurston, age 18, Handler for a year and a half," then
suddenly Alex fell silent. "Hang on," he muttered scribbling with the
stylus on his palm computer. "No, never mind about Thurston. I see I
have him scheduled to assist in the Cafeteria the entire month. Looks
like Case is our man."
"Good. Let's get him in here," North said decisively. "And I'd like
to start her on Thelazine right away. That should knock the edge off
her guarding instincts. I believe that'll be best course of action
for everyone concerned."
"I agree," Alex responded, making a note. Then in an attempt take a
positive stance, he added, "At least now she'll be attended to by
professionals during her stay with us rather than amateurs," Alex
said, referring to the program employed by their neighbor, The
Facility. Neither man wished to deride the neighboring operation. It
served a useful function, and enjoyed good success. Occasionally, as
with the case pending, TYTC was called upon to lend a helping hand.
That's what neighbors are for, after all.
They heard the commotion out in the hall long before the door opened.
When at last it did, the Headmaster, his Chief Handler and a third
young man dressed in the white coveralls of a TYTC Handler looked on
in amazement as a "wild thing" was ushered between two burly Handlers
into the previously quiet office. She kicked and spat and flung her
long chestnut hair. A string of unintelligible curses mixed with a
spray of spittle flew from her mouth as she was literally dragged
across the carpet toward the big desk, behind which Adam North sat
patiently.
Following a subtle nod from his superior, the young man in white rose
from his seat and took charge of the situation. Walking quickly to
the side of the room, Scott returned, rolling ahead of him an
apparatus known as the Acceptance Frame.
Resembling a coat rack on casters, at first glance the Acceptance
Frame was a rather innocuous looking rectangular apparatus about six
feet long and five high. It was constructed of stainless steel tubing
one and one half inches in diameter. Wrist and ankle restraint cuffs
with velcro closures were located at the four corners of the
rectangle. The tubing at the bottom half of the device was filled
with lead shot for weight and stability, and although it was quite
heavy, the apparatus rolled easily on casters at the ends of two
shorter struts set perpendicularly to the lower bar at either end of
the steel frame. The Acceptance Frame was simple yet elegant in
function. With it, an unruly Guest could be immobilized quickly and
efficiently. The device was used quite often these days for Induction
Interviews rather than having to tie up the Center's otherwise very
busy staff of Handlers and Attendants.
"Let's get her framed up, gentlemen," Scott said, calmly ignoring the
girl's shrieking protests. Everyone in the room, with the possible
exception of the irate young Guest, suspected that it was going to be
a long day.
"Let go of me, you sons of bitches!" the dark haired girl screamed at
the top of her lungs as she was pulled toward the waiting device. It
was the first recognizable thing she'd said since she arrived.
The two Handlers , Cliff and Hugh, chosen as escorts for the fiery
tempered teenager were both massively built men and had no difficulty
controlling the one hundred pound young woman. Scott position the
"A-Frame" directly in front of the Headmaster's desk and locked the
casters, then stood aside to observe while the antagonistic teenager
was secured to it. When all was in readiness, Scott turned to the two
staff members who stood awaiting further instructions and said, "Many
thanks, gentlemen. Cliff, if you wouldn't mind standing by for the
interview." The man nodded his consent. "Hugh," Scott went on.
"Thank you again for your kind assistance. You are excused."
It is critical that a young lady learn to recognize authority if she
expects to one day become a fully functional female. For this reason
Scott conducted himself quite formally as was the custom among the
staff of The Youth Training Center when in the presence of a Guest.
"Yes, sir. You're quite welcome," Hugh replied.
It seemed almost comical that a man of Hugh's age and imposing size
would address an obviously much younger man with such deference, but
Hugh knew Scott, and knew that every Handler had to start his career
somewhere. Hugh had been awarded several opportunities in the past to
supervise a "Double I", and was a valued member of the TYTC Team. But
today, young Scott was in charge, and Hugh and every other staff
member would afford him the respect and courtesy that his position of
command deserved.
While Hugh made his exit the young chestnut haired beauty tested her
bonds. The four men who remained in the office waited patiently while
the girl yanked with desperate strength at the restraints around her
wrists, twisting and tugging until her hands were white from lack of
circulation. Ignoring her audience, she grunted and snarled and
cursed under her breath, throwing her body from side to side and to
and fro senselessly against the inertia of the apparatus. The
"A-Frame" had been tested by men far stronger and many times her
weight. The heavy, unyielding steel allowed the girl freedom of
movement to a degree, but not enough for her to tip the frame over and
possibly injure herself. After a full ten minutes of struggling, all
the girl had to show for her efforts were two round, dark spots of
perspiration on her blue linen dress over her breasts and some angry,
red chafe marks on her wrists. Two minutes more passed and she stood
panting, leaning heavily against the top horizontal bar of the frame
where it crossed her sternum just above her breasts. Her head hung
forward limply, her tousled brown hair covering her face. At last,
the young woman appeared to be spent; for the time being in any case.
"Good afternoon, Miss Davidson," Adam North said politely. "And
welcome to The Youth Training Center." The girl did not respond.
Ignoring her impertinence for the moment, North continued in a calm
and even voice. "No doubt, you are wondering why you are here." He
paused. When after a few seconds she made no attempt to acknowledge
his statement, the Headmaster looked in Alex's direction who in turn
nodded to Scott.
"Delegation," Scott reminded himself. "Delegation." Turning to the
big Handler who stood nearby, Scott said, "Cliff, Miss Davidson
apparently requires your assistance."
"Yes, sir," Cliff replied curtly. He stepped forward calmly and took
up a position directly behind the restrained young woman. She did not
move. Without the need for further instructions, the big man placed
one hand on the girl's right shoulder. She didn't look up, but tried
to shrug his hand away. It was then that Cliff grabbed a handful of
thick chestnut hair at the base of her skull and yanked, jerking her
head violently up and back.
"Owww! God, you bastard!" she shrieked. "Let go of me. You're
hurting me!" She tried to free herself, but Cliff held her fast,
forcing her to look straight ahead. After a dispensing a series of
whining curses, she fell silent.
"That's much better," Adam North declared with what appeared to be a
warm smile. "You will learn, Miss Davidson, that you are expected to
look directly at the person with whom you are engaged, be it in
conversation or otherwise. This is one of our non-negotiable
standards, and disobedience will not be tolerated." His expression
remained neutral, divulging nothing of his plans for her.
"Yeah, and you and your cronies can all go to hell!" the feisty girl
spat, glaring defiantly at the man at the desk. "When my fianc finds
out about this... this despicable little rape club you're running,
he'll see to it that all of you monsters spend the rest of your filthy
lives in prison."
The Headmaster gazed up at the woman from his seat behind the big
desk. On his handsome face he wore an expression of amazement. "How
any man in his right mind could possibly want a woman like this is
beyond me," he thought. Looking into her dark green eyes, North saw
only contempt and arrogance. "It's going to be a long day," North
decided.
Although she was very apprehensive about her future, Teresa enjoyed a
brief moment of triumph when the man who was obviously in charge of
this mad house where she'd been held prisoner for weeks now, lowered
his gaze and bowed his head. Somehow Teresa knew she'd escape from
her incarceration, and although she'd been raped repeatedly by these
wicked brutes, she knew she would eventually prevail over them. She'd
made a list of names. She'd memorized faces. Sooner or later she'd
have her day, and when Gregory, her husband to be and a powerful trial
attorney got his legal hands on them, these cowardly cretins would end
up rotting in prison for the rest of time. Unlike the majority of the
other girls on her squad who'd quickly deteriorated into quivering,
whimpering crybabies following their arrival in what she assumed was
just another part of her place of captivity, Teresa had endured.
She'd fought them at every opportunity. She recalled with a welling
sense of omnipotence how she'd bitten one bastard's hand to the bone.
Teresa thought of herself as a true champion. Although she was young
-- "Gregory doesn't think so," she reminded herself - Teresa Davidson
had become the epitome of the modern female. She thought of most men
as "boy toys", believing the majority of males she associated with to
be barbaric and stupid. She, on the other hand, was smart. She was
desirable. She was powerful.
She was wrong...
Staring down at his desk blotter, Adam North rubbed his forehead with
his fingertips. After an audible sigh, and without looking up, he
said softly, "Let her go, Cliff."
"Yes, sir," the big man said, never questioning his boss' decisions.
He released Teresa's hair and stepped back.
Shocked by the unexpected development, but not for long, Teresa leaned
her head back and shook out her shining tresses. Then she leveled a
cold stare at the man behind the desk. Teresa sensed victory. "It
was only a matter of time before this wimp of a man would tell his
goons to let me go," she thought to herself.
Teresa was already planning her next move when the man spoke. It came
more as a sighing lamentation, than a direct order, but his Chief
Handler knew exactly what the Headmaster of The Youth Training Center
had in mind. "Alex.. Alex.. Alex," North began. "What am I to do?"
He looked up at his colleague seated across from him. There was an
almost gleeful twinkle in his grey eyes. "I can't seem to get through
to Miss Davidson. Maybe it's a personality conflict. I just don't
know." He paused for effect. Alex struggled not to burst out
laughing when he turned and saw the expression of pompous arrogance
glowing on the young woman's face. Then he turned back and faced his
employer. "Perhaps you might have more luck with her. Do you think?"
Adam North asked his Chief Handler.
"Well, maybe, sir," Alex said, playing along. "I'll be happy to try
reasoning with Miss Davidson on your behalf, if you wish," he said,
slowly rising from his seat.
"Please," North said with a smile.
Turning to face Teresa, Alex said thoughtfully, "Perhaps if we made
her more comfortable."
"They're going to untie me now. I know they are," Teresa thought
excitedly.
"Cliff," Alex said in a kindly manner. "Would you be so good as to
help Miss Davidson feel more at home with us. Perhaps you could help
her out of that dress she's wearing. She won't be needing it for a
long while."
The change that came over Miss Teresa Davidson was almost laughable.
One minute she was flying high, having just scored a tremendous
victory over her captors and paving the way for her eventual release,
and the next she found herself once again alone and vulnerable, facing
an advancing predator.
Looking warily over her shoulder at Cliff as he stepped closer, Teresa
said bravely, "Now you just hold on, buddy boy." She began to strain
at the bindings around her wrists. "Just stop right there," she
warned.
"Hush, little one," Cliff whispered. He reached under Teresa's right
arm and felt for the seam of the blue linen dress.
"Don't you touch me," Teresa hissed, twisting her body in an attempt
to escape the man's attentions. The first seam ripped cleanly from
her armpit to her waist. "You'll pay for this, bastard!" she screamed
just inches from the man's face. "I've got your name, you... you
creature. My fianc.... husband will fix you when he finds out about
this!"
"Shh...shh...shh..." Cliff whispered mockingly. Then he smiled and
tore open the left side seam of Teresa's dress.
Unlike The Youth Training Center where Guests remain naked at all
times, The Facility issued its Guests unique clothing. The Facility
chose to make its Guests available to the paying public rather than
have them schooled by a trained staff. It was simply a difference in
philosophy. In any case, the director of the neighboring operation
realized that many of his clients preferred to "unwrap" their prizes
before they played with them, so he designed dresses and undergarments
that were easily removed without damaging either the Guest or her
clothing. The special issue blue dresses, braziers and panties were
constructed with unobtrusive velcro seams which could be torn open and
resealed time and time again.
Teresa Davidson wore just such a dress. So in spite of the fact that
she fought like a she-cat, wrenching and twisting her body as much as
the steel frame would allow and all the while shrieking like a
banshee, Cliff was able to peel her like a ripe banana. The man
conducted himself like the true professional he was as he tore away
Teresa's brazier, freeing her magnificent breasts, full and firm and
perfectly shaped. The panties came next. Since Teresa's legs were
spread widely apart and restrained at the ankles, a normal pair of
female underwear would have to have been cut and ruined in order to
remove them. Not so the panties given to her by The Facility. The
narrow seams at each hip tore open easily, allowing Cliff to pull the
small garment from between the animated young woman's legs. There was
a round hole with a stitched hem in the center of the cotton panel
which normally covered Teresa's womanhood. Cliff knew it was there to
allow the passage of the vaginal mount systems that the Guests at The
Facility were displayed upon daily.
Note: For further information on The Facility and its day to day
operation, please refer to any one of the stories in the "Natural
Selection" series.
Continued...
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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