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An Academic Decline starring Verse and TiedForAll

Marco behaved well now. Clyde liked them scared. Meant they had a good head on their shoulders. And Marco's fear had him perfectly obedient. The sounds Marco made when flipped was hilarious, but he followed it rather well by indeed spreading that ass. He was in a good headspace right now. But Clyde still chuckled with some surprise at the answer he was able to force out of the laid-down professor. Where had all that fucking ego gone now? The cock just laid there, soft and shrunken from humiliation, while its owner talked about it like it wasn't anything. Clyde made sure to film back and forth from the dick to Marco's face as he said it. This would be some good material for later. But the way Marco was right now, maybe Clyde wouldn't need it. He'd just associate Clyde with authority from now on. That's what training was all about. But men like professor Hessels sometimes made the mistake of reverting back to who they were when they were temporarily let loose again. Suppose Clyde would just had to teach him a good enough lesson that wouldn't happen.

There were fearful thoughts building in Marco's face when the bigger dick rubbed down on his. This was all made possible by Marco still keeping his legs spread and bent to his side like a good bitch. He didn't take the opportunity to say anything, and Clyde made sure to start stretching him. He put his free hand on Marco's soft stomach, as to keep him in place, to remind Marco so he wouldn't forget when he got too distressed. And it fucking worked! Marco made a pained, loud sound, but he didn't try to escape. He let Clyde bend that tiny wrinkled ring open, and slide in by the slick of Marco's saliva on the head.

"Fuuuuuck you're a bitch..." Clyde muttered, strained at the tightness of the other male's asshole trying to fucking cut his dick off. "Relax. Try to shit me out." he advised but didn't stop his steady forward march into Marco. He filmed when the cock disappeared half way into the decimal crevice, and then started pulling out part way. "This is who you are. You're gonna get really good at this." he hissed as he continued to roughly build a pace. He wouldn't stop until he was rhythmically fucking Marco's until recently unused shithole. "Ungh. Fuck, professor. I didn't know you were such a fucking slut for cock." he said, almost to himself. "How are you liking it? Is this a dream come true? I know by those pictures you have a thing for your students." he asked and used his hips to explore different angles inside the older man.
 
Pffffffff
…and now it’s over to Douglas with your morning traffic report…
Pffffffff
…all washed down with a glass of prawnsecco, the bubbly seafood tipple for the discerning drinker…
Pffffffff
…And when you add the water, remember to fold it into the dry ingredients…
Pffffffff
…and it’s Volkner who will kick for the field goal on this bright and sunny…
Pffffffff

The TV channels in Marco’s mind kept flicking, dancing this way and that as he tried to actively disassociate himself from what was happening. But the constant commentary from Tarran, the ever changing nature of his thrusts made it all but impossible for Marco to ‘zone out’. Tarran’s thrusts and moves made Marco squirm with discomfort. There was pain, but it was dulling now that his anus was not being stretched open any wider, there was just the back and forth rubbing of Tarran’s cock, the odd feelings when a deep thrust pushed against his prostate. But it wasn’t the feelings but the act which was the source of the pain
"Fuuuuuck you're a bitch..."
Again there was that word…
"This is who you are. You're gonna get really good at this."
Marco remained impassive, all on camera, anything he did would either be taken as agreement, or result in violence. So doing nothing was the least worst option
"Ungh. Fuck, professor. I didn't know you were such a fucking slut for cock."
Bitch, slut, slut for cock… each word hammered home, slut for cock was a evil twist, worse than the others.
“How are you liking it? Is this a dream come true? I know by those pictures you have a thing for your students."
Marco remained silent, the only ‘thing’ he had for them was the money that he could earn from them, but he knew full well that the pictures could be used to tell a very different story. All he could do was wait for Tarran to finish and hope that was the end ot it.
 
He saw when the eyes of his victim were trying to find some other place to be. It's not like he hadn't seen it before. Marco just wasn't used to hardships, so he didn't know how to not be in the moment. Some of the girls who still smelled like the country they came from, despite gallons of cum washing over their bodies over years in captivity and work, were experts at it. Clyde knew their poisons, and could pull them back from their escapes with that. That's how you got to fuck a present girl. But professor Hessels here didn't have that grit. Didn't need his disassociation to stay alive. No. He thought he was fighting for his life. But he was just trying to be comfortable. Fighting for his life would come later. But it'd probably be on the same cock.

Clyde clocked everytime Marco surfaced inside those would-be vacant eyes. And that let Clyde know exactly which parts of Marco's shit tunnel were sensitive. He angled himself lower, to push higher, crushing the prostate of the man who'd never had it even touched before. Because of the surface area of the fat head, it was easy to hit most things, let alone a place that the owner telegraphed when stimulated. Clyde would just press the cum out of this little shit, if he had to.

He started pushing his hips, which meant he was putting a lot of pressure on that hill inside, flattening it, indenting it. He was sure it'd garner grand reactions from the smaller man. Clyde wouldn't be surprised if the miniscule dick finally reacted.

"You're loving this. How pathetic are you that you'd enjoy this?" he muttered with disdain and shook his head like Marco was nothing, all the while bullying his prostate.
 
The prostate gland, oft visited only by the fingers of a proctologist, can be quite a sensitive organ for something buried so deep. As with many a sensitive organ they can be ‘hard wired’ into the pleasure parts of the brain, stimulation generating a physical effect without, or despite, the emotional state of the owner. Marco didn’t know what it was but there were times when Tarran thrust deep in a particular direction if felt, well not good, but less bad, very less bad, unbad++ even, as they might say in Newspeak. But not good, as what was happening was not good.

"You're loving this. How pathetic are you that you'd enjoy this?"
There were many, oh many clever responses and putdowns that Marco could have come up with were he not on the receiving end. But even if he had, then he would have kept them to himself, not wanting to antagonise Tarran any more.

The problem of repeated stimulation was that it eventually would work, it would eventually have an effect. And that eventually was now. Before Marco even knew it was happening he would start to get an erection, slowly but surely becoming harder and harder, from flaccid, to half mast, to full erection within a few minutes of the process starting. Only then, when fully erect, would he feel the difference in how his cock moved in response to Tarran’s thrusts.
"You're loving this. How pathetic are you that you'd enjoy this?"
And of course, an erection was a sure bet that the owner of that cock was aroused by what they were seeing, experiencing.
 
Clyde saw the physical effects of his messing with Marco's insides. It was quite easy to locate just exactly the professor preferred to be fucked. The smaller, older male didn't respond to the taunting right now, but for the camera, as his ass was being gouged out by the fat length it had been force fed, Marco was getting hard. At first it was sluggish, but soon it was so stiff it stayed while Clyde's cock dug into his sensitive asshole. It was, of course, rather pleasurable for Clyde as well. He made sure to pan from the cock to Marco's face to make a cinematic point. Not that Marco's depravity needed to be added ontop of his shame, but it made the content more enjoyable and rich.

"Hey, am I punishing you for being an amoral teacher, but are you even learning your lesson here?" Clyde joked as the smaller dick acted like a pendulum. Clyde thrust harder, crushing the prostate pad that had to take the full brunt of his cock, whenever he could find it. The saliva coating his dick was effective as lube, if only for the sheer amount Marco's throat had left it with. "So, you're actually a slut, then? No wonder you're grumpy. You needed cock all your life and you never got it." he said with venomous, pretend sympathy. "Must be difficult living without the thing you want the most."

And then he fucked Marco harder, making the flag of a cock that had been awakened by this depravity swing faster. "You ready to be a fucking star, teach?" he asked, and it wasn't really anyone's choice but Clyde's. The point of the prostate was singular, when used like this. He lowered himself further, to make the angle steeper, and then he straightened them to start assaulting the firm, hidden part harshly, determined to make Marco cream on camera.
 
There was only so much tension, so much insult that someone can take before there is a reaction. The same goes for stimulation. Marco was being assailed on a number of fronts, physically was the most obvious one, but psychologically, that was where the real impact was. The physical violation, helplessness and impotence all fed into that psychological pressure, the pounding on his prostate fed into another kind of pressure, which had a physical manifestation much to Marco’s dismay and Tarran’s amusement. His erection was something he desperately tried to ignore, from how he could feel it move about in response to Tarran’s thrusts and moves, how each push against his prostate seemed to pump it up just that little bit more, increase the pressure in his loins just that little bit more, push him towards an orgasm, just that little bit more.

Then there was the while filming everything. EVERYTHING! Everything, every detail, every debasement, every humiliation, every torment. And every bit of evidence against him. He wanted to shove the phone down Tarran’s throat till he choked on it.

Then there was Tarran’s ‘running commentary’ on what was happening
"So, you're actually a slut, then? No wonder you're grumpy. You needed cock all your life and you never got it."
"Must be difficult living without the thing you want the most."
"You ready to be a fucking star, teach?"
Marco cried out in frustration, his mind and body could take it no more. His body let go, shooting cum into the air.
 
It wasn't like Marco could hide any of it. Even the internal struggle not to show anything to the phone that was immortalizing his agony was perfectly depicted in the memory of the small machine. While the signs on the already standing little dick were harder to detect now - it was already hard enough, after all - there were ways that it stretched that suggested the otherwise disgruntled victim did like what was happening to him. Clyde had enough confirmation that he kept going at a certain angle, dead-sure he'd found the point inside Marco's stomach that was his weakness. And Clyde would never forget. The hips of the youth who'd taken control of the situation didn't let up. Clyde continued to relentlessly fuck Marco's Hessels's prostate to a very deliberate result. Of course the newly introduced weakling had no chance against a seasoned fucker.

Clyde saw it built, and he chased it for Marco. Better he get to be honest with himself for once in his pathetic life. He'd become used to being ontop, to selling his students, and now he was going to live on the other side until Clyde decided he was done. And he'd never be done. Clyde had to this date never let anyone go, if he could help it. He squeezed them dry or dead.

He brought Marco over. The physical result of it squirted out the peehole of the waving cock, Clyde caught it sailing through the air and repeatedly hit Marco's stomach, chest and then even lacerate Marco's face a couple of times. It brought the bully to laughter, which added to the emotion on camera.

"You fucking did it!" he said between booming amusement and stopped moving inside the taut anus. He made sure to pan the length of Marco's torso to hammer home the point that Marco had indeed creamed because of a dick in his ass. And then, unceremoniously, Clyde pulled out of Marco's ass with a pop, sure to all but invert the little pucker. The future viewers and Clyde himself were curious as to how Marco's ass had taken this new adventure, and what leavings there'd be on the cock.

Either way, Clyde dragged the weak body down from the desk, and had Marco on his knees infront of the now compromised cock. "Fucking clean it." he said with a dark cadence as he looked down at his newest victim. His cock was humming, and about to blow, so when the pathetic little bitch did attend to the dirty shaft, Clyde would let it explode all over the face too, though expecting still that the professor would clean it, all the while. "You're a shiteating bitch now, Marco. Your old life is over. From now on your just do as I say, and you'll be alright. You're nothing. But I own you, so be happy about that at least."
 
Marco noticed the cum the moment it splattered on his body, it was warm and wet through it immediately began to cool in the air. The smell was noticeable a moment later. It seemed to be everywhere, up his torso, a few drops even landing on his face. Marco was a bit out of it, it was surreal, but was brought crashing back into the room by Tarran’s shouting
"You fucking did it!"
Tarran had no fear of anyone hearing this, not a passing member of faculty, student or even the occasional security guard. He made noise like there was no one to hear him, Marco didn’t know if this was because Tarran knew the building was empty, or just didn’t care. Marco gave a gasp as Tarran pulled out of his ass, the sensation, the sudden emptiness was odd. There was a stillness… Marco cried out in alarm as he was dragged off the desk and onto the floor, coming to rest on his knees in front of Tarran, his still erect cock just in front of his face. He could smell the faint scent of excrement from the thin film that still coated it.
"Fucking clean it."
He wanted to clean himself, not the cock that was right in front of him, but it was clear that Tarran wanted his cock cleaned. “I, I need a cloth, a, a tissue.” Marco looked around on the floor when the contents of his desk lay scattered. Marco started to pick through the items, looking for something suitable while Tarran continued to rant and rave in triumph.
"You're a shiteating bitch now, Marco. Your old life is over. From now on your just do as I say, and you'll be alright. You're nothing. But I own you, so be happy about that at least."
Marco managed to locate a tissue and began to wipe Tarran’s cock clean.
“Y, yes sir, thank, thank you sir. I, I’ll do what you say sir.” what he was thanking Tarran for was beyond him, but he knew that Tarran would expect to be thanked and agreed with “I, I’m cleaning your cock just like you told me to sir.”
 
Clyde coud see the surprise in Marco when his own cum fell to ornament him. It was a disgraceful look, but that's what made the recording better. There was this overtaken expression on the little man as he laid there, and then that slight panic when Clyde pulled out of him. Like shitting himself was that far off from what had just happened, anyway. It did give Clyde some inspiration for the future. Still, he wasn't done with this guy yet, and dragged him over the edge of the desk to the sound of him squealing. There really was no fight left in Marco. That might actually serve him well in the life Clyde Tarran had picked out for him.

But he still needed training. It showed in the way Marco scrambled to obey the order, after having stared at the cock that had been pounding him into the bitch he now was. On camera, it looked like fighters after a particularly brutal match, with his cock still standing hard, and Marco kneeling and defeated by it, willing to do anything he was told. Clyde tilted his head at Marco's comment. It took some time for the antagonist to realize exactly what Marco meant. And then he chuckled darkly as Marco dabbed the volatile limb with a tissue. A deafening clap made the sound scratch in the recording as Clyde slapped Marco over his imbecilic face.

"What the fuck do you thing shiteating bitch means!" he shouted and took the opportunity, when Marco was down from the slap, to kick him twice in the stomach and another time between his legs, targeting the balls. He flipped Marco on his back and buried his shoe against Marco's crotch, crushing the bits there since Marco was unable to close this thighs to protect himself, with the footwear already in place. He ground down the ridged sole on Marco's useless package, which should be sensitive and inflamed now given the pitiful orgasm he'd been fucked into by his student. Clyde was content with flattening Marco's dick and balls for a minute before he finally pulled his leg back.

"With your mouth, you fucking idiot. I want my cock squeaky clean and I want your lips, face and tongue fucking painted in your own shit." he explained and then stood straight again, phone never wavering in collecting from the violent, demeaning scene. "Hop to, I got places to be, teach. It's time you get your supper."
 
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Marco was on the floor seeing stars before he knew what had happened. Then he was doubled as a couple of licks to the stomach almost had him vomiting in pain. He was groaning, gasping for air having had that kicked out of him, trying to swallow away the taste of bile that had risen up in the throat from the impact. He was in a foetal ball, rocking slightly and groaning, spitting out the taste of acid. Then he was crying out in pain as a kick hit his balls, Marco hovered on the edge of passing out from the pain. He gave another cry as he was moved onto his back, his efforts to roll back into a ball was stopped when Tarran stomped down on his cock and balls and another wave of pain slammed into him

"What the fuck do you thing shiteating bitch means!... With your mouth, you fucking idiot. I want my cock squeaky clean and I want your lips, face and tongue fucking painted in your own shit."

Tarran’s words sounded thin and distorted as they made their way through the fog of pain filling Marco’s mind. Thin and distorted they might be, but the menace and threat of further violence was all too clear.

“P, please, please,” Marco begged, hoping for release, for mercy, his face scrunched up in pain from Tarran’s boot on his balls As Tarran crushed down on his balls the pain became unbearable, something inside him snapped and all resistance tumbled ”Shiteating bitch will suck your cock clean sir, please sir shiteating bitch will always keep master’s cock nice and clean. Please master shiteating bitch is hungry.“

The sudden release of pressure was almost as painful. Groaning in pain Marco rolled onto his side and then to his knees to come face to face with Tarran’s soiled cock. Objectively Tarran’s cock wasn’t as soiled as it could have been, it wasn’t like it was coated in excrement, this was a thin streaky film, partially removed by the tissue. A quick glance up at the angry camera, evilly devouring all that it saw and Marco started to rub Tarran’s cock over his face in a desperate attempt to not get beaten again and to try to clean some more off. He pumped away while doing so, hoping that this would further please him, and stay violence. A glance up again,,,
“S, shiteating bitch loves shit covered cocks.” and he began to lick and suck, his mouth filled with acrid, bitter tastes, swallowing back the urge to vomit, as he tried to take it all the way in, his tongue lapping and running over the shaft, wiping the shit away. Fear and pain keeping him in his place, keeping him obedient, he caressed and fondled Tarran’s balls hoping that as Tarran had places to go, this would be over.
 
They always thought that the worst of it would be the violence made to their honor and ego, that the threat was all they'd be feeling of his strength. But there was a reason human beings obeyed when they were faced with a beating. Given that Marco had thought he was doing what he was told, and washing him in abuse was a lot because Clyde wanted to, and was offended by Marco's stupidity - but it was still good he got a taste of why he needed to be good when he was ordered to do things by his student. Even though the professor was clearly the youngster's senior, there was little that showed it now, when he was kicked, naked and humiliated. Marco was undone by the crushing of his balls and dick. The image of it kept the fat and hulking, young cock hard. This would hurt anyone, but Marco was even more susceptible to the pain than most, on the account of being weakly built. What was the point of having a bitch like this if you didn't get to decimate their masculinity eventually? Better to get it over with. And the way the professor moved around, he wouldn't soon forget. It was very satisfying for the sadistic criminal.

He chuckled darkly when Marco started sputtering his new, long nickname. It fit him. He was showing the right attitude. "That's right." he said as all resistance seemed gone. "Maybe next time you don't assume the easiest way is the right one." Marco didn't have the kind of mindset it took to know these things yet, he was still innocent despite his blackmailing racket, but suppose he was on his way now that his balls had gotten a taste of what could come, if Clyde was displeased. Though the man had been beaten down harshly, he had a new energy through his suffering when Clyde decided to give him a new chance. It was good to see some eager initiative, even if the body was limping a bit. It made it funnier to watch someone scramble eagerly, desperately, to eat his own shit off someone else's cock.

Marco even understood not to linger too long on the floor, nursing his mashed package. Clyde waited angrily but huffed and melted somewhat when Marco heedlessly pushed his face against the tainted rod, the faded color of Marco's on leavings. He even grunted with some arousal when Marco nuzzled the dirty cock, and it streaked his face. It didn't even stop the weaker man before he was sucking and swallowing at the freshly applied shit. The camera was hungry for the disgusting scene. The sack and ball attention was a good initiative, finally. "Shiteating bitch has found her calling." he said.

And then, when most of the filth from his cock had transferred either onto Marco's features or his stomach, Clyde pulled back, which would leave him out of range of Marco's mouth but not his hands. "Open up." Clyde let that stimulation from the hands be enough to finally cum on Marco. It was a rich, long flood. Explosion after explosion, ringing with pleasure through the veiny shaft. But eventually it would be done for. It would join the lines of feces on the teacher's visage and pool between his doubtlessly obediently open his and on his shit-stained teeth.

"Start swallowing." he said and pulled back even further, tucking his softening cock away but still filming. "Good right? Tell the viewers what just happened, what you're doing now, and how you feel about it."

And if, the little shit-princess did all that, he'd be rewarded with a last kick to his dick, and be left on the floor. Clyde planned to visit him soon again.
 
Marco could feel that they were building to a crescendo. The pace, tempo, activity, speech, they were building to something. But what? What could be worse than what had already happened?
Marco continued to bob his head back and forth as he sucked off Tarran, the taste and smell slowly becoming background from familiarity and dilution. But the verbal abuse and threats didn’t stop, that wasn’t fading into the background.

Abruptly Tarran pulled out, leaving Marco to just stroke Tarran’s cock
"Open up."
Marco shivered, and opened his mouth.
“Ah!” Instinctively Marco closed his eyes and turned his head slightly as Tarran came, shooting ropes of cum over his face and into his mouth. The smell and taste of shit was replaced by the taste and smell of hot cum
"Start swallowing…Good right? Tell the viewers what just happened, what you're doing now, and how you feel about it."
Marco swallowed, licking his lips to pick up, at least it didn’t taste of shit…
“S, shit eating bitch has, has just had, had a nice meal of master’s hot f, fresh cum.” Marco stammered, he could imagine Tarran’s clenched fist, his boot forcing more out of him “Shit eating bitch is is now a cum eating bitch as well. She, she loves to eat and drink all of what master gives her.”

A final kick to his crotch then, nothing?
Was it over? Was it finally over?

Shower, shower, shower. Once home he shower and scrubbed like he’d never done before
Delete, delete, delete. Delete his digital trail, close down site, use anonymization tools, trying to scrub his on-line existence.
Shower and delete, each an attempt to clean up what had happened.
 
Marco had finally become a productive bitch. As Clyde came and the pleasure vibrated his cock and balls and lower stomach, he watched the face painted and overtaken by cum. It always made for good thumbnails. Because of the amount, there was enough for Marco to swallow and catch on his feminine face. The resulting answers elicited a soft, agreeing humming from the young criminal. He had fed his teacher both a good portion of manners and cum. And let him wash it down with his own shit. By the look and feel of it, Marco knew his new place in the world.

Of course, when Clyde saw Marco's little firesale online, he smiled. It wasn't like the evidence didn't still exist on his own side of the digital wall. Marco should know that.

After having laughed about the video more than once with his friends over the span of a few days, and had Marco send him a few pictures of objects in his ass, it was time for professor Hessels's class again. And this time, about fifteen minutes late, Clyde Tarran and three other students who had been forcibly enrolled showed up. Clyde wasn't too worried to be told off when he entered, and didn't even pay much attention while the lesson was going. He was mostly on his phone, sending pictures and videos of Marco's greatest hits to the ones sitting next to him.

But as the lesson ended, the boys got more excited. It was obvious they would not go when the others did. Marco was soon left with only Clyde and his compatriots in the hall where he otherwise liked to peddle his moral theories.

Clyde lit a cigarette and passed it before standing up. In his usual attire of black and some overpriced leather jacket, he came down toward the scene where Marco had his desk. "Did you get the stuff I sent you?" he asked with some glee as the tail of hoodlums followed. "You're going to hold a much more concise lesson for the four of us, but entertain us as you do it, aren't you?"

The clothing items delivered in a package were mostly underwear, and a pen. They expected very colorful words scribbled on the older man's body, where the provided slutty clothing wouldn't cover it. And, of course, creative use of the pen. The lecture was about to be easier to retain for the young men sitting down in front. Not that Marco could fail them, come test day, anyway.

Learning had never been more fun.
 
Things had become infinitely worse, it was clear almost as soon as Marco had deleted the last of his on-line places that his attempt to cover his tracks had been a failure. IT was also clear that Tarran had not kept this a secret, the film he had taken and shared with a few ‘friends’, fellow thugs. How far things would go after that Marco had no idea, not that there was anything he could do anymore about it. Marco had been made to send more photographs of himself to Tarran, mostly with various objects shoved up his ass, all to add to his collection of blackmail material.

Marco had become a split person, on the surface he was still mostly the same, any odd behaviour was put down to the stress of the tenure process or some other explainable situation, But inside he was terrified, terrified of when his phone vibrated, of when he got email, of when the postman delivered anything…

The class was done for the day, the door was locked…

"Did you get the stuff I sent you?... …You're going to hold a much more concise lesson for the four of us, but entertain us as you do it, aren't you?"

Marco nodded, he hung his head and walked to the small prep room to get ready. Several minutes later he stepped out of the prep room now wearing the clothes he had been sent, all in the same bright pink colour...

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As instructed he had written on his body. The handwriting was shaky, mirror writing was difficult at the best of times, but now…

Forehead: Rape Toy
Left Cheek: Toilet with an arrow underneath pointing to his mouth
Right Cheek: Cumdump with an arrow underneath pointing to his mouth
Belly: Shit Eating BItch Sissy Slut
Around crotch: Beta Clit, Pussy, Tiny DIcklet with arrows pointing to his crotch
Above backside: Bitch’s Cock Hole

Marco stood frozen, his mouth moved, but no words came out.
 
Clyde had seeped the tension for Marco to feel. The others were not too subtle about it, and there was hyena like, audible amusement when the came to the front. They vied for Clyde's approval. Him bringing them along, even as muscle or any other good use he could get out of them, made them excited. While he was on equal footing as one of them, it was clear in their circuits which male was more respected. So this was pretty much a reward for those closest to him. He liked to rotate these kind of treats, and he knew the tastes of his fellow criminals. These three liked to humiliate, and didn't mind whether the victim had a cock or a pussy.

He liked how Marco didn't protest anymore. The good beating, fucking, and talking to seemed to have worked well on the once so proud teacher, even here, in this lecture hall, where he should have all the power. Clyde took a puff out of his cigarette, of course forbidden in here, but if anyone caught them, the nicotine wouldn't be the first thing they remembered.

They hooted and catcalled when the grown man came out in his clothing. One of the guys even jumped up and down a bit where he saw, unable to contain his energy when he got to see what kind of toy they got to play with and ruin today. It was the last thing this big room would be used for according to the booking schedule, but there was nothing stopping anyone from walking in. It should keep Marco on his toes, if those shoes didn't.

Clyde laughed and clapped his hands once, doubling over. It was very lovely to see the clothing fit Marco, and that dick hanging in that little pouch. The handwriting was meant to impress him, since he'd given prof. Hessels creative freedom, even though Marco knew he always had to impress his new tormentor. The beating last time had really gotten Marco's focus, so now he never did the bare minimum, as shown on the pictures he was made to send.

They all screamed with laughter, hanging back over the chairs or doubling over, when Marco tried to start the lesson. "Hey, show us where you put that pen!" one of them asked. It was a burly type, obviously muscle, with spiky hair. His name was Rand. Clyde nodded for Marco to comply.

"Yeah. Get it out and draw your bellybutton into an asshole, and then put it back in." Clyde ordered. They looked at their leader, and then back at Marco. "And then come down here. I've been holding it in since I came here." he said with some dramatic strain.
 
A coward dies a thousand times before his death, but the valiant taste of death but once…

And Marco was living proof of Shakespeare’s words, every day was a little bit of death, not the heroic The Ride of the Rohirrim scene with screams of death before a ride into battle against uncountable foes. No, Marco died each time he obeyed Tarran, called him ‘master’ or sent a photograph of himself with something shoved up his backside. Every single time he wanted to say no, to call the authorities, to resign and move away. But every time he did as he was told, he just couldn’t face the consequences of resisting. He was already ruined, all he could do was try to see it out and hope for some kind of miracle.

But today was not that day, especially as he was standing dressed in women’s clothing in his classroom having written degrading words all over his body. More death.
"Hey, show us where you put that pen!"
Marco turned around and bent over, pulling his panties to one side he pushed the pen into his anus, it fit in easy now…
"Yeah. Get it out and draw your bellybutton into an asshole, and then put it back in."
Pen out of ass… the drawing command made no real sense, but not much did, the only thing that did make sense was not getting beaten again, and probably this time by all of them. So he did the drawing, little lines radiating all the way around his belly button. Pen back in ass.

“Y, yes sir.” Then he was on his knees in front of Tarran. Whatever he was holding in wasn’t going to be good.
 
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