Maybe lying to the head of the girl's wrestling team was a poor idea. Maybe claiming to be a photographer for the school newspaper was a move only a pervert would make. Maybe openly sniffing girls panties as they showered wasn't something that should be done in broad daylight. Despite all of these "maybes," Liam found himself doing these things and getting himself in trouble. Rather than the usual suspension or expulsion, however, the female wrestlers were in charge of dishing out their own sort of punishment.
Tied to a wooden chair with a pair of gym shorts balled up and shoved down his throat, Liam found himself at the mercy of 15 strong, muscular, and fiery women. The ropes holding him in place were course and made his skin burn. The shorts in his mouth became damp with his saliva, dripping onto his bare lap. Bright florescent lights lit up the small broom closet he had been shoved into, illuminating the one other person in the space.
A sinister grin was spread across her glistening, sweat covered face. Her cheeks were flushed a deep red and her eyes burned with hatred. Every breath she took hissed with desire to tear Liam apart. She took a step towards her immobile victim, grabbing a clean towel that had been hanging beside her. As Ashlyn walked, her eyes stayed fixated on Liam. Like a predator stalking their prey. In one swift motion, she stepped behind him, wrapping the towel around his throat and pulling it tight.
Liam gagged loudly, feeling his oxygen supply quickly run out. He flailed and squirmed in his chair, fighting to break free and breathe again. His eyes filled with tears as he knew that he couldn't best his female torturer. Her muscles tensed as she pulled harder, turning the tender flesh on Liam's neck red. Before he could fully lose consciousness, Ashlyn dropped the towel in his lap. Liam struggled for air, gasping around the shorts lodged in his mouth. His throat burned from the rough texture of the cloth.
"Do you feel bad?" Ashlyn asked, tilting her head. "Sneaking up on girls like the filth you are."
Again, Ashlyn wrapped the towel around Liam's neck and began to strangle him.
"Are you disgusted with yourself? Are you sorry? Are you?" With each question, Ashlyn would tighten the knot she had been forming. "Are you sorry!?"
Every part of Liam wanted to scream. He wanted to get on his knees and beg for his release. He did feel bad. He was sorry. He was disgusted. Once again, Liam tried to fight and work himself free. Once again, he was met with an unmatched strength.
"Do you wanna talk to me?" Liam nodded frantically.
Ashlyn dropped her makeshift garotte and stood before Liam. She threw her head back and let out a wicked laugh until she turned a deep red.
"Talking's overrated," she spoke, opening the closet door. "I have a better idea."