Ranma swayed back and forth, her bare breasts rubbing against the stiff bottom of the bag Hiroshi carried. Rolled up and tied into a ball, her bottom exposed to the air, something stuffed up her ass. Her body tingling from the first orgasm it had ever experienced. She could still feel phantom finger’s touching her flesh, her tits, her cunt. Was it any wonder her mind was splintered into a dozen fragments. But, as the journey progressed, her finely honed brain, trained to analyze battle in the most extreme situation started to work.
Hiroshi had lied to him! That was certain. The boy had told him two completely opposite things. Akane was alive. Akane was dead. He was going to help Ranma. He had fooled Ranma. Ranma had no evidence to support one group of lies over the other, but she didn’t have to. Only one mattered. “Akane is alive,” she mumbled into the ball gag that stretched her mouth wide. She had to believe that. If it wasn’t true, than nothing mattered.
Ranma had to believe that Hiroshi had told him the truth first. That his behavior later was the act, the lie. But, if she choose to believe that. Then she had to choose to behave as if the second was the true. Ranma had an exaggerated idea of her prowess as an actor. It was true that she could put on an act in her girl body that would gain her free food, or make boys do what she wanted. But she had never considered teenage male hormones. The fact was, looking like she did, she didn’t have to be a really good actor, the boy’s she fooled, really fooled themselves. They wanted so much to believe her, that they ignored her over the top behavior.
It was perhaps fortunate that Hiroshi on the other hand was a very good actor, thank to his mother’s love of role playing, and demands for perfection. During her time alone with him under the bridge, there had been no acting on Ranma’s part. The feel of his hands, the words he spoke, the sensation’s he evoked. She had believed, and despaired. And her voice and the sounds she made had shown it.
In his office the principal had listened with glee to Ranma’s collaring, and the consequences. His cock was stiff, and sticking out of his pants. Barely six inches long, it was none the less an object to strike fear into any young girl. Thick and squat, it was malformed. Unlike a normal penis that was thickest at the head, his cock swelled in the middle, being nearly three inches thick, over ten inches in diameter. It’s skin was course and rough, almost scale like. No teen age girl would ever take his member, not without a lot of training. The principal stroked his hand over his cock as he listened to the muffled sound of Hiroshi and Daisuke talking. They were speaking over the faint sound of Ranma’s breathing, and the sound of her pulse.
Hiroshi had been right about the collar being bugged, it did listen to what went on around it, but it did so much more. It was not a typical Genoshin slave collar, meant to suppress mutant ability. In any country where slavery exists, there are certain men in power who will use that institution for their own perverted desire. The collar magnified the sexual response. All nerve signals must travel to the brain to be felt, and thus all must through the collar. Not only did it scramble and reduce the signals that controlled the higher abilities of mutants, and in this case Ranma’s super high martial arts skill which registered on it as mutant abilities, but it could also distinguish those nerve impulses connected to sexual stimulation and response, and increase them.
Even now, sealed into a bag and alone, Ranma’s erogenous zones were sending out signals. Her breasts, always before rather numb lumps of flesh were now fully functional, and were passing signals back down to her groin, and up to her brain. Her pussy lubricated, her clit engorged, her breasts swelled, her stiff nipples pressed against the bottom of the bag, and she moaned, her thighs clenching.
The collar picked up the sub-vocal tones of Ranma’s sexual reaction, the almost purr in her throat. “Yes, yes, Wahine. You is going to be the principal’s perfect little fuck slut. You think you better than him, but you not. You to proud to bow to him, soon you will lick his dick.” The principal’s hand increased its stroking of his deformed, slightly pineapple shaped, penis.
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Sun Nov 30 06:03:07 2003