Jamie found himself in a beach bungalow, a female mountain lion devouring him. He had no clue how the hell they'd gotten to, let alone inside, the house; all he knew was the moment the door had closed, she was all over him. She had a tongue like an electric eel and damn! but she knew what to do with it! Her hands were everywhere, cupping, dipping, kneading, hardening every bit of him there was to harden. Jamie's senses were on overload but he didn't care a bit. She was soft in all the right places, so sweet smelling and oh, so skilled! He wasn't too terribly experienced with girls--he did ok for his age, of course--but she seemed like she was more than happy to fill in the gaps in his education. She suddenly broke away, grinning that maddening grin as she look up at him.
"Vous like to play zee games, yes?" She ran a smooth, warm hand down Jamie's chest and he shivered. He tried to focus on something, anything to give him back his swagger and grabbed at the first thing that came to mind.
"Your name, what is it?" He blinked stupidly as she trilled laughter, patting his chest.
"No namez, zilly boy," she chided gently, nails lightly scraping his chest, eliciting another shiver. Then her eyes turned hard again and she suddenly grasped one of his nipples between her fingers, twisting savagely. "Vous like to play zee games, yes?" She pressed against him again, but didn't relinquish her grasp on his nipple.
Oh frig, my first bondage game...hell YEAH! The thought suddenly excited him, her body against his making him forget for the moment that that twisting shit hurt like a bitch. He figured if he could go back to school and brag to all his buddies that he'd bagged an older, hot-as-all-hell French chick this summer, then he could do with a little pain. As long as she didn't get too kinky, he figured he could play along. The experience would serve him well once he got around all those college chicks next year. So he nodded, swiping a tongue around a mouth suddenly cotton dry as he croaked out, "Wha...what game are we playing?"
That brought a quick scowl to her face; a hand came up suddenly and slapped him across the face. He yelped and brought a hand to the spot, mouth opening to ask what the hell she thought she was doing. A quick finger to the lips brought him up, though. Her scowl was gone just as quickly, replaced by a sultry smile. Jamie barely registered that even though she was smiling now, her eyes remained cold. There was some strange glimmer in their depths, but those oh-so-kissable lips were distracting him.
"Shhh, my love. Vous beeen a bad boy, and bad boys must learn zee lessonz, yez?" Jamie didn't know what the hell she was talking about, but it sounded hot. And she was the older, more experienced one, right? He may as well let her take the lead. He nodded yet again and was rewarded by a larger smile. She clapped her hands delightedly and tugged at the waistband of his trunks; he followed eagerly, then came up short as he noticed a desk in the corner of the room.
"What's tha-?" he began, only to be backhanded.
"Zee bad boy does NOT talk unlezz zpoken too!" the woman barked, then shoved him. Jamie yelped again as he tumbled into the desk. He tried to get out, but the lady lifted a leg, planting her foot squarely on his groin. "Now, vous are zee studant, I, zee teacher. Bad boy vill call me Teacher, yez?"
"Yes," Jamie croaked as the woman turned around. Once her back was turned, Jamie heard savage laughter, male laughter, full of cruelty and the promise of pain. His first thought--oh shit, this is a hooker, this is a hooker and her pimp's about to come out of the closet or something and beat me up. He got scared for a moment, then took heart. He was fit, body honed by years of sports and workouts in the gym. Let this creep bring it! He'd whip the little punk and maybe give the bitch a few slaps too, to pay her back for hitting him. He tried to rise, when, suddenly, bars sprung out of the desk, trapping him. His panic at that was nothing compared to the panic born when he looked up to find the hot, French woman had vanished. In her place, a hideously burned and scarred man stood, face radiating cruel glee. He had on a dirty, frayed green-and-red striped sweater and dark brown pants. His hands were behind his back; one swung out to plop a battered brown fedora hat on top of his head. The other pulled out one of those dunce caps you saw in old movies for dumb and misbehaving students. There were words scrawled on it in what looked suspiciously like blood: You're fucked. The burnt man placed this on Jamie's head, then patted it almost affectionately. There was no affection on his face, however. Far from it.
"Good," a gravelly, evil voice cackled. "Let's get you educated, bitch."