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Punishing Pamela

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Punishing Pamela by Reese Gabriel

Pamela Haley is the sexy new English teacher at Ivy Dell Academy. She plans to be tough, but a group of her eighteen-year old seniors turn the tables by producing sordid photographs from her past. Pretty blonde Pamela was just eighteen herself when her mother's evil boyfriend sold her as a sex submissive, but now she must pay the price for her tawdry past by serving the cruel whims of her sadistic blackmailing students.

Things go from bad to worse when Lorenzo, her former pimp and master, shows up and decides he wants Pamela back in the business. The lovely teacher is rapidly reduced to a squirming sex toy, craving the very abuse heaped upon her. Her only hope lies in the handsome school principal Tom Rains. Tom agrees to help her, but he has a price of his own. Six months ago he longed to walk down the aisle with Pamela, but now it may be the something different he wants to see her on. Will Pamela win her freedom or will she become yet another victim of the sordid underground white submissive trade?

This is a sleek, modern story about age-old seduction and surrender to leather and steel. Contains bondage and domination, whipping, golden showers, psychological control, with extensive accounts of female subjugation and submission, including brandings, and submissive training. A real page-turner...from the beginning to its surprising and very unique finale.

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“Open it,” commanded muscular Blake, coming up behind the languid Mandy to wrap his arms round her waist in a blatant violation of the school’s physical contact rules. “Now.”
Pam’s heart was racing. Their behavior was way of out bounds. Something was very wrong. Using her plum-colored nails deftly, fingers cold and trembling, she opened the flap. A sick feeling gathered in the pit of her stomach. There were photos inside, glossy black and whites. The blood drained from her face as she saw the subject matter. It was just as she’d feared. Her worst nightmare, come true.
Mandy leaned back against her boyfriend’s powerful chest. Blake—who was both a wrestler and quarterback of the football team—had unbuttoned her blazer and now he was cupping her full breasts blatantly through the silk of her blouse. “What’s the matter?” the five-foot-seven cheerleader and model wanna-be breathed huskily. “Seen a ghost?”
“Look at them, Teacher,” the crew-cut blond Blake told her, taking time out from nuzzling Mandy’s arched neck. “All of them.”
Pamela eyed the photos with a strange, eerie calm. She’d always known her past could come back to haunt her, and yet it was so very long ago…another lifetime. The colorless, raunchily posed female was so young, so vulnerable and these spoiled kids in front of her couldn’t begin to understand the circumstances her earlier self had been through to lead to that place.
“These,” Pam said at last, indicating the lot, “aren’t what they seem.”
“Really?” Erica folded her arms over her generous breasts and turned out her hip insolently. “They ‘seem’ to me like they’re photos of you, performing disgusting sex acts.”
“Ooh,” Mandy pointed shrilly, aiming a two-tone nail, frosted pink and metallic turquoise nail at the picture on top. “That’s my favorite. What’s that on your neck, Miss Haley? A dog collar?”
Pamela spread her palms, trying to cover the horrific evidence, so starkly and literally rendered. “It…it shouldn’t be this way,” she stammered foolishly.
Mandy giggled, her gray blue eyes lit with cruel lust as she let Blake slide his hands up under her blouse. “Poor Teacher.”
The room was spinning. Pamela was losing control.
It was Trevor who leaned forward to give her a reality check. His mop of red hair spilled over from the top of him as his strong fingers splayed insolently over hers. “Well it is this way, Teach, so deal with it.”
Pamela forced herself to look up into his handsome young face. “I suppose you’ll want to blackmail me,” she said, scarcely believing the sound of the words coming from her mouth. Any second now, she prayed someone would pinch her and she’d wake up, safe at home in her princess four poster bed, her single woman’s bed earned with the sweat of her own hard work.
Erica snorted, answering for the group. “Yea, right. Like we would bother to blackmail you. My allowance is bigger than your whole stinking salary.”
“We will want some things, though,” Trevor interjected, running his fingers over her cheek.
Pamela recoiled. The touch was unwanted, unasked for and outrageous. And yet…it had warmed her strangely.
Trevor winked, reading her ambivalence. “We all get A’s to begin with,” he informed her. “You’ll be doing other stuff for us, too. Personal stuff.”
Pamela swallowed, realizing for the first time that there might be something at stake besides money or even her job. “W-what do you mean—personal stuff?”
“Don’t be naïve,” the highly intelligent and therefore dangerous Erica snapped contemptuously. “We’re all adults in here. All over eighteen. Use your imagination.”
Pamela rose to her feet, the fight in her suddenly coming to the surface. It was a long buried emotion, but one she remembered well from her…other life. “You have no right to talk like this—to, to come in here and accuse me. Take these,” she snatched at the disarrayed photos, trying to push them all at once into the envelope. “And get out of here!”
Erica was the first to put her hands together theatrically. The others followed, initiating a slow, unison applause, as sarcastic as it was daunting.
“Bravo,” the sinewy Trevor grinned, giving a hammy bow. “Good performance.” A moment later he straightened himself, all business. “Now let’s talk reality.” He took the photos from her. The one on top showed a young Pamela Haley—Pamela X in those days—collared and chained on her knees, a man’s cock in her mouth, his hand in her hair, forcing her head into place. “We show these to Rains and you’re history. Here and at any other school in the country. Is that what you want?”
“Maybe it is,” teased Mandy, pushing her behind against Blake’s pelvis as he pawed his way up under her skirt. “Then she can go back to being a whore, or whatever she was before.”
“Not a whore,” Erica shook her head, her button nose wrinkling slightly as she affected a superior, cat-like smile. “Whores don’t do things this low, do they, Teacher? I can’t imagine a mere prostitute being whipped like a dog or prancing around on all fours like a pony.”

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