Note: Old fans who recognise me from my Literotica page will know that this is my first new post in several years. After a long hiatus I'm finally back in the erotica game. I've had many ideas over the past few years, and even started some chapters but for whatever reason nothing came of it. Until today. I've always loved posting erotica, with Hannah's Revenge as my flagship, and I've got plans to start consistent posting of it again.
And if you can't wait for the public release of the next chapter, Chapter 6 of Hannah's Revenge is already posted on my Patreon page https://www.patreon.com/thebritishmaster.
Which, along with access to new chapters of Hannah's Revenge before they're posted anywhere else, gives you access to Patreon exclusive stories and commissioned artworks which I have big plans to release in the near future.
But in any case, without further ado, I'm happy to announce my triumphant return to erotica, with Chapter 5 of Hannah's Revenge.
* * * * * * *
The morning light trickled over my face, gently rousing me awake. With a stretch and a yawn, I returned slowly to consciousness. But dear god how I wish I hadn't. It felt like years ago, yet also only seconds, the memories so fresh in my mind. Hannah's pussy on my face, arse beneath my tongue, piss down my throat. My entire body convulsed in a disgusted cringe as I went to sweep my hair back and felt it hardened and matted with Hannah's shit where she'd wiped herself. I wanted to go back to sleep, to run away forever, to just lay down and die and let the ground swallow me up in my shame. Instead, all I could do was slowly rise and tentatively totter in the direction of the bathroom, working on unconscious autopilot, legs wobbling like a baby deer.
Opening the door to the shower enclosure, I spun the brass handle and the sudden powerful roar of the water shocked me back to reality a little bit. I went to take my clothes off to step in, and only then realised I was totally naked. The memories of the reasons why flashed through my head like a horror show. Trying however vainly to shake them from my head, I stepped in to the embracing warmth of the shower.
The water slowly warmed me back into true existence, running down my body in a marbled swirl of pure fresh water, and murky brown streaks from where Hannah's shit in my hair came away. Reaching for the bottle of shampoo, I lathered deep into my raven locks, pushing and pulling and scrubbing desperately to get some sense of the lustrous and sweet coconut smelling tumbles I was so proud of before. I pulled my hands away and saw the muddy colours streaked across them and all of a sudden completely broke down. I dropped to the floor of the shower and bawled, hugging my knees to my chest. Hot stinging tears ran down my face, disappearing into the wash of the shower but their cause staying string behind them. Unimaginable, complete and total shame. The things that had happened to me, the things I had done. Disgusting, repulsive things. Things that nobody should do to anyone. And the worst was the permanency. The realisation that no matter where I go or what I do, nothing could ever wipe the slate clean. This was part of my history, my life, irreversible and forever.
Slowly the sobs turned to sniffles, and then turned to nothing. Just me sitting on the floor of the shower, with only the patter of water on porcelain to break the silence. Slowly I rose to my feet and continued with my shower. What else could I do?
The bright orange flash of a handful of tropical body wash disappeared into a sweet burst of bubbles, lathered against my smooth skin. Inhaling the sweet familiar scent I began to feel almost human again. Soapy, sudsy hands ran across my body, washing away the stench of shame, if only the stench.
Travelling to my breasts, I cupped and lathered them, feeling their soft weight beneath my hands. Passing over my nipples I felt them slowly harden and tingle beneath my fingers. Slowly I let my hands travel down my flat, smooth stomach on its way to my little throbbing pussy. The shower was always my special time. The warmth and sweet smells mixed with my caresses of my own body were almost Pavlovian in my arousal. I gasped as I slipped my first finger in and lent prone against the wall. Feeling my finger inside, I began slowly rubbing my clit, the quivers travelling through every part of my body. Naughty, sexy thoughts travelled through my mind. Deep, tender love. A cock sliding in and out of me as I'm held safe and protected in his arms.
Suddenly another thought flashed through my head and Hannah's hairy cunt was in front of me. I shook it away and it was back to the strong arms of my imaginary male lover. Until Hannah's arse was there, the taste returning my mouth, the smell of her warm farts choking me. Gasping in disgust I flung my hand away from me, all sense of arousal gone with nothing left but intense frustration and a deep ache. Even when I was alone, Hannah was inescapable.
I rinsed off the last of the soap away and stepped out of the shower, pulling on my thick towelling robe. I was soft, and warm, and sweet smelling. Feeling like myself again. Feeling like a person again. But the memory of my interrupted masturbation was kept alight by the anger, shame, and deep ache within me...
Leaving the bathroom, I stepped into the bedroom to see Hannah's bed was empty. Glancing at the clock it was only then I realised how I'd slept in and understood her absence. Knowing what a fat bitch Hannah was, there was no way she'd have ever thought to miss breakfast. I allowed myself the smallest smirk in thinking that her gluttonous desire for food outweighed even her perverted desire to torture me. The smirk quickly faded as I realised that my absence would also be noted, although by my friends at breakfast surely wondering where I would be. With no time to blow dry my hair, I quickly ran a brush through it then dove to the ground in the pile of my clothes that Hannah had torn through last evening, trying to piece together my uniform from the scattered articles. Here was a blouse, there a skirt, a bra over here, my blazer still where I'd dropped it last night after Hannah's command to strip; hurrying away to find something to wear to cross campus as quickly as possible to the dining hall, and yet try as I might I couldn't find any of the last piece, conspicuous in their absence.
I had no panties.
Swearing to myself, I remembered one of Hannah's rules: I was never allowed to wear any panties, not even outside the dorm. It didn't matter, I was already too late. Tearing off the robe I hurriedly clipped on the first bra I could find, buttoned down my white blouse, yanked up my purple tartan skirt, slipped on some knee-highs, and quickly stuck my feet into the sensible yet stylish black flats that were uniform at Greenbrier. Grabbing my blazer off the floor I swung one arm through it as I tore open the dorm door with the other, slammed it behind me, and rushed down the stairs of Morrison House and out to the green lawns beyond.
The vast dining hall was abustle with swarms of girls in Greenbrier uniform, with the general chatter of a busy hall filling the air. The classic familiar scent of the rich mahogany walls and tables mingled with the flavours of a working kitchen filled the air. Normally I would be proudly strutting through the hall, confident in my position at the top of the social hierarchy, but today all I wanted was to melt away unseen and ashamed. But I couldn't I had to swallow my shame and hide it, or else what would be the point of all my suffering?
Bypassing the line for food, I couldn't even dream of eating that morning, I hurried past the rows of tables, filled with cheerful groups of my fellow schoolgirls, laughing and chatting amongst their friends. Where was the justice? Why was it that they could be happy and free when my whole existence was now nothing but shame, loathing, and sexual slavery?
At the far end of the hall was the teachers' tables, and somewhere near the end was Ms McLaughlin. Rather than engaging in conversation with her fellow educators, she seemed to have opted to stare lazily out at the sea of schoolgirls in front of her. As memories of her abuse and the disgusting acts she forced me to perform on her aged cunt and arse filled my head, I had no doubt in my mind that her eyes cast out upon the girls in the hall were undressing them with every stare. Nausea filled my stomach at the thought, but I shook it away thankful in my own surety that my lone self could disappear amongst the shelves of her proverbial candy store.
