Page 12 of Depravity

“One day soon, when you are lucky enough to be married, you will realise how good it feels. How good it is to have your husband’s cock down your throat.”

I blink back, shaking my head. The bitch is crazy. They’re all fucking crazy.

Clara spurts out, finally pushing the professor off her as she lands on all fours, heaving like she’d just been held underwater.

“Pitiful.” The headmaster sneers. “If that were my actual cock, I’d expect far better.”

I don’t think any of us know what to say. We all just stay there, watching as Clara struggles to get her breath back and the Professor murmurs with our teacher like there’s some sort of conspiracy.

“Well, what are you all gawping for?” Ms Doone says, “Get back to practising.”

It takes everything I have to turn back, to return to my desk. Clara is still gasping for breath, but she too is scrambling away.

As we sit back down in our seats, the sounds of sucking fills the air.

“Don’t forget to moan.” Ms Doone chirps. “Your husband wants to hear how much you enjoy this.”

As if on cue a dozen girls start moaning, gasping, like they can’t get enough of the thing down their throat.

From the minute the sun rose and I had to leave my room, that damned woman had practically clung to me.

It wouldn’t be so bad if she wasn’t so damned desperate.

Every word she speaks seems calculated, deliberate, carefully considered to gain my attention. The way she moves, the way she bends, it’s like she’s trying to give away glimpses of herself, of her body beneath that tight little dress.

I finally get a reprieve when Quinn suggests we go hunting. And for those few precious hours I can breathe, I can think.

Our prey is good. Whoever their beaters are, they sure know what they’re doing. I’m riding a dapple grey, fifteen hands, niceand sturdy. Quinn’s on his ex-racer, but mine is easily able to keep up.

The forest is managed well enough that we can ride through the brambles with ease. We barely get a few furlongs up before I spot a chancer trying to loop behind us.

“On the right,” Quinn shouts, like I’m too stupid to notice.

My horse crashes through the undergrowth as I give it a good enough kick to ensure I’m ahead.

The girl spots us almost immediately and screams out, picking up her pace, but she doesn’t stand a chance.

Her bare feet flash on the path as she runs ahead of me. Her bare arse taunts me. I wonder what her tits look like, if they’re plump or saggy. It’s always hard to tell from behind. Sometimes these bitches can have the nicest arses, and yet the front does not match at all.

Her matted hair streams behind her. I reach forward, giving it a good yank and she screams more.

Quinn laughs out, calling her a name I don’t catch.

I let my hand loosen, let her get away as I pull up the reins. The fun is in the chase. If I run her down too quickly, what would be the point? I want her to think she stands a chance. I want her to believe that she might just reach the safe zone.

To our right, another girl pops up. She darts ahead then makes a full-face somersault into the brambles, screaming as she goes. I leave her for Quinn to deal with, and keep my attention on the ginger.

She’s got a good few metres ahead. Her arms are pumping fast as she runs for her life.

My lips curl as I watch her muscles work, as I watch her glutes flex.

Without taking my eyes off her, I hook an arrow into the crossbow and take aim.

She’s not stupid, I’ll give her that. She’s zigzagging enough to tell me she knows what’s coming. But she’s also too predictable with her movements. She darts to the left just as I release my arrow, and I hear the shriek as it embeds itself right into her shoulder blade.

She falls over, landing hard on the ground, and for a moment she’s clearly dazed.

I’m almost disappointed by how easy it is. I swing my leg over, jumping from the horse and as I approach her, she springs up, running once more.

---