Amber's New Job Ch. 05

The Judge stared. The girls, well-prepared, said in unison, "Good morning teacher."

"Good morning class," she replied. I could see the hunger in her eyes. She'd let this fantasy envelop her.

The class took fifty minutes. The Judge was neither a trained teacher nor had she the time to prepare. To ensure the presentation did not falter the girls were ready with questions and a lively class discussion. When the bell sounded all but the black girl filed out.

When they were alone, fiddling with the thick dark hair which hung past her shoulders, she said, "Miss Bush, I need to talk to you about the exam last week. My grade was terrible. I had a big fight with my boyfriend the night before and I couldn't focus on studying."

The Judge checked the name tag, trying not to lose herself in the woman's beauty, and said, "Yes, Shamika, boys can be very inconsiderate. What can I do for you?"

Shamika moved closer; her voice dropped a tone; she adopted a husky seductive timbre.

"Is there anything I can do to make up for it. Anything at all?"

"What did you have in mind Shamika?"

Shamika took the Judge's hand in hers and ran a finger across the palm and wedding ring.

"I don't know, Miss Bush. An extra-credit assignment, a paper, something more personal?"

"What do you mean?"

Shamika's hand moved to the Judge's hip. "Miss Bush, in class you look at me like my boyfriend looks at me." Shamika's hand moved up the Judge's side.

"If I let you do some of the things I let him do, would you be nice to me the way he is."

The Judge glanced at her wedding ring, trying to find some strength in it.

"Shamika, that would be against the rules."

"Ms. Bush, rules are made to be broken. And think of the nice things you'll get." Shamika started undoing the buttons running down the front of the Judge's dress.

"The rules aren't what you want. I'm what you want."

Shamika slipped a finger inside the Judge's bra. The Judge inhaled sharply, her body trembled.

"Your nipples, Miss Bush, they're hard. All you need to do is say is, 'Shamika, I'll give you an 'A' if you let me kiss you.'"

The Judge's glanced around and then, lips puckered lips, leaned forward. Shamika pulled back, laughing.

"No, no, Miss Bush, first you need to let me know what I'll get if I let you kiss me."

"I'll give you an 'A' on the exam, please let me kiss you."

Shamika's hands curled around the back of the Judge's head, bringing their mouths together. Employing the power of her athletic body, her self-confidence and experience, Shamika's tongue speared inside the Judge's mouth, teased, then battered, her tongue, and went exploring. There was nothing sweet about the kiss; it bordered on rape.

The Judge, enthralled, reached for Shamika's breasts. Shamika stepped back.

"Do you want to play with Shamika's breasts? Our deal was kiss only. My boobs cost alot more."

Most, but not all, the fight had left the Judge. When she did not immediately respond, Shamika stood up to go. The Judge's resistance fractured. "Please don't go, what do you want, please tell me!"

"If you want to play with my breasts you need to promise me an 'A' for the entire year. You'll do that, won't you Miss Bush."

"Yes, yes, I promise."

Shamika, casually and deliberately, removed her shirt and bra. I could see why people paid to play with those things, her breasts were fricking perfect. They were full, but not too large, "C" cups most likely. Round, they sloped naturally, gracefully, gently from her chest, projecting forward with a tight cleavage; there was no sag. The nipples and areolas, which were slightly darker than the creamy chocolate of her skin, tilted forward and were round, symmetrical, and proportionate to the size of her breasts. Shamika took a breast in each hand and gently squeezed. They were firm, but not hard, the skin soft, almost shimmering.

The Judge was mesmerized; she wouldn't have noticed a brass band marching by.

"Come here, Miss Bush. You may kiss Shamika's breasts."

The Judge, eyes on Shamika's chest, cupped the left breast with both hands and, mouth wide open, swallowed the areola. Her lips quivered as she sucked it into her mouth.

Shamika moved the Judge's head to her other breast.

"Miss Bush, you've been dreaming about Shamika's breasts a long time haven't you. You should had let Shamika know, I wasted a lot of time studying."

As devoted to the second breast as she had been to the first, the Judge's body was shaking with lust; the aroma of her arousal scented the air. Then, without warning, Shamika pushed the Judge's head away. The Judge cried in anguish, her tongue flailing against the air. Her lips were covered with saliva, a drop ran down her face.

"You want to eat Shamika's pussy, don't you Miss Bush? But you don't have anything left to give Shamika, do you Miss Bush?"

"Anything, anything you want, please."

"You already promised Shamika an 'A' for the entire year. What else do you have?"

"I don't know, anything, anything you want."

Shamika looked away and took a second to think.

"I know. It's my birthday tomorrow. I'm having some friends over. You will come, serve us food, fetch us drinks, do whatever Shamika wants. You'll be my servant. How about that?"

"Yes, yes, I will, I'll be your servant, whatever you want."

"Good, now you can eat Shamika's pussy."

Shamika dropped her skirt - there were no panties - and sat on the teacher's desk. Her pussy was newly shaved and had a powerful animalistic odor; I would later learn her diet was controlled for exactly that effect. Judge Bush unhesitatingly buried her face in Shamika's sex. When she pulled her head away to gulp in some air, Shamika's nectar was smeared across her face. Considering how pungent Shamika's odor was from my hiding place, it must have been overwhelming the Judge. The Judge took long licks from Shamika's vagina to her clitoris.

Shamika, however, barely reacted to the Judge's mouth. "Oh, Miss Bush, is Shamika's the first pussy you've eaten? You're not very good Miss Bush. Try harder, try hard to make Shamika feel good."

The Judge tried harder while Shamika continued her critique. Finally the Judge stopped and apologized.

"I'm sorry Shamika, I'm new to this, but I'll figure it out, I promise."

"Miss Bush, you should have told me you don't know how to eat pussy. Our deal is off. You can't come to Shamika's party tomorrow."

The Judge, near tears, begged. "Please, let me try again. I'll do better, I promise. Please."

That was my cue. I entered the room, wearing a gray power suit with a tie. My blouse was white, my hair up, and shoes expensive three inch pumps.

"Ohmigod," Shamika said, "it's the principal."

"Shamika, what's happening here?"

"Miss Bush said she'd give me an 'A' on an exam if I let her kiss me, then she said she'd give me an 'A' in the class if I let her kiss my breasts, then she said she'd be my servant if I let her eat my pussy."

I turned to the Judge. "Is this true?

Judge Bush, immersed in the role I had created for her, responded in a plaintive voice, "She asked me to."

"That's the best you have? You're supposed to be in charge and you blame a student? Corporal punishment may be forbidden for the kids, but the rules don't say anything about teachers. Lean over your desk."

When the Judge - more stunned then defiant - hesitated, Shamika shoved her forward. I yanked up her dress and, using a pen knife, sliced open her pantyhose. While the juice on her leg reflected her recent arousal, the flow had stopped. She was frightened.

I brought my hand down, smartly slapping her thin ass.

SMACK.

'Unnnnffff," the Judge moaned in pleasure/pain.

"You're a very bad girl, Ms. Bush."

"I'm sorry."

SMACK.

"Uuuunnnnnfffffff."

"You need to be punished."

"You're right, you're right, I need to be punished."

SMACK.

"Uuuuuunnnnnnnfffffffffff."

"You need a spanking, don't you?"

"Oh yes, spank me."

SMACK.

"Uuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnfffffffffffffff."

"It's what you deserve for being such a nasty little girl."

"Yes, yes, you're right."

SMACK.

"Uuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnfffffffffffffffffff."

She was panting in need. I ran a finger over her vaginal lips. She was dripping wet. "Is there anything else you need to report Shamika?"

"Yes principal, although she said she'd eat my pussy, she didn't tell me she was a lousy pussy eater. She didn't get me excited at all. She didn't hold up her end of the bargain."

I turned back to the Judge, "Is this true?"

Excuses tumbled out. "I tried, I tried real hard. You've got to believe me, I wanted to eat her pussy good, I just don't know how."

"Well, Miss Bush, it appears you didn't hold up your end of the bargain. You can learn, can't you?"

Frantically, "Yes, yes, I know I can."

I stood still, letting a grimace flash across my face. Finally, having let her stew in her own failure, I said, "This is what I'll do. I'll show you how to eat pussy, but it will cost you." Then more to myself than her, I said "What do you have that I want?"

I surveyed her, my gaze finally alighting on her ring. "That, give me your wedding ring."

She hesitated, played with it for a moment, and handed it to me. I held it up to the light as if evaluating its worth and slipped it on the gold chain I wore around my neck.

By now the other students had wandered back into the room. I turned to the Hispanic girl. "Selena, come here."

Selena undid her skirt and sat on the desk next to the Judge. Sans panties, her pubic hair was freshly trimmed and scrubbed.

"Watch very carefully Miss Bush."

I stood between Selena's open thighs and kissed her sweet lips, a peck here, a peck there. We ran our hands along the sides of each other's bodies, our gentle practiced caresses quickly escalating the heat. Our mouths and lips started playing with each other. My tongue caressed her lips, forced them open, and slipped inside. I ran a hand over her inner thigh, sending shivers through her. She took my head in her hands, held me firmly, and became the aggressor, her tongue teasing mine and pushing into my mouth. A thin sheen of sweat covered her body and her breathing deepened. I fondled her breasts through her shirt. They were warm and her large nipples erect and throbbing. Her hips started rocking, her legs shook. She was ready.

I had a short stool placed between Selena's legs and sat. I kneaded her strong legs with my hands and kissed along her inner thighs, teasing and exciting her, building the anticipation. Soon she was squirming. It was time for the main course.

I licked her like she was an ice cream cone, in long thick strokes from perineum to clitoris. I increased the pressure with each trip, noting how she responded. I spread her labia with two fingers, opening up her most sensitive area, and explored its interior.

Selena leaned back on her hands, dropped her head, and groaned. The other girls murmured and moaned as hands found their own or their neighbor's pussy.

I licked around Selena's vulva and sucked the lips of her labia into my mouth. I sampled the vaginal lips, tongued the entrance, caressed it with gliding motions, then shifted to circles and light strokes. I probed her vagina with my tongue; pushing it in and out like a soft supple penis. After every few thrusts I licked her clit.

Selena, her hole flooded with juice, was putting on a show. She squeezed her tits, moaned, and whimpered, "Oh god, it's good, really frigging good. You make my cuntie feel so good, so good. Yes, oh yes."

I ran my tongue up and down the sides of her labia, varying the speed and pressure, sometimes using the tip, sometimes it's full width. On each trip I grazed her clitoris. One finger entered her snatch, honing in on her g-spot; another worked her perineum.

Selena was squirming, babbling, gasping, moaning. I knew I could do what I was doing a tad longer, but it would border on cruel. She was ready. I focused on her clit, applying indirect pressure by circling it with my tongue and then, with her panting in delight and the other girls in the room moaning with her, I attacked her love-button, pushed aside its hood and licked it with quick, flicking motions, the tip of my tongue moving up and down, back and forth, in small circles, clockwise, counterclockwise.

Selena lay flat on the desk, kneading her breasts, humping my face.

My cheeks concave, I took her clitoris in my mouth and sucked on it while licking it with my tongue and humming, infusing it with the vibrations of my mouth. I varied direct stimulation of her g-spot with finger thrusts, sometimes straight, sometimes in a corkscrew motion.

"Unhhhhh, unhhhhhhh, unhhhhhh!"

I took her clit between my teeth and rapidly licked its head. Selena's hands plunged into my hair, desperately pulling me into her. Her pussy spasmed and locked down on my fingers. Water gushed from her as she came.

"Oh sweet Jesus, Oh God, I'm coming baby, I'm coming, I am so fucking cuuMMMMINGGGGG! OH GOD CUMMMMINNNNGGGGGGG."

Selena's body jerked hard, then shook. Her arms and legs danced spasmodically. And, after several long minutes, she lay still, sucking in air.

I looked at the Judge. "Pet, that's how you eat pussy."

The wedding ring around my neck was coated with Selena's juices. I gave it to the Judge to clean and addressed the group.

"Class, Miss Bush was naughty. She promised to give Shamika good grades if she could play with Shamika's breasts. She promised to be Shamika' servant if she could eat Shamika's pussy. Miss Bush can't show favoritism like that. I will leave Miss Bush with you. She will need to do for each of you what she did for Shamika, suck your tits, eat your pussies. When I come back I want a full report. Then I will determine her punishment."

I returned three hours later. The Judge was on the floor, naked, exhausted; her face and hair drenched in pussy juice. Her tongue hung limply from her mouth. Splotches on her skin showed where she'd been manhandled. Her nipples were inflamed from being twisted and pulled. The girls, on the other hand, were perfectly made-up, looking as fresh and innocent as when we started.

"Well, how did she do."

Dawn, the Asian, answered first. "Well, she made me cum, but it wasn't that good."

After the other girls provided similar answers, I turned to the Judge, "It looks like, at best, you've got a low 'D.' Shamika, how about you?"

"She didn't make me cum."

I looked at the Judge, eyebrow arched. Her eyes reflected panic and in a slurred voice - her tongue numb - she said, "I'm sworry, my towngue's exhausted. I twied, just couldn't."

"Ladies, please help Shamika out. Miss Bush, time for your punishment."

The girls gathered around Shamika. A mouth latched to each breast, two girls licked her pussy, two others nibbled on her butt.

There was no fight left in the Judge. She grabbed a chair, struggled to stand, and lay on the table, face down, ass up. I picked up a yardstick, swished it through the air, and brought it down on her ass. Whapp! It would sting, leave red marks, and make a satisfying smack, but would not cause injury. I did it again, delayed a moment, and did it a third time. Whapp! Whapp! The Judge, physically exhausted and emotionally battered, shuddered and whimpered, accepted her punishment without objection. And, although bone-weary and her body enervated, her eyes still flamed to life as they fixed on the lesbian tableau before her.

"Ms. Bush, you broke some important rules. How many of these do you deserve?"

"I was very bad, Ma'am. I'm not sure how many. A lot."

I continued at a slow steady pace, letting the sound of each blow echo through the room. By the time the Judge's butt glowed a light red, she had started to move her ass up to the stick as it whizzed towards her. Liquid dripping from the Judge's pussy pooled on the table; her red swollen clit emerged from its hood. Moans of need replaced whimpers of pain. She humped the table, pain and humiliation combining to foment a level of excitement she had not never imagined.

Shamika's eyes were shut and her legs wobbly; she was lost in an erotic fog. Being made love to by six of Las Vegas' premier call girls will do that to you. "Ahhhh, thank you, you're making Shamika feel so good. Ohhhhhh... uuuhhhhmmm... yessssssss...," she moaned over and over and then, head lolling back, she screamed, "Fuck, Ohhh God," as an orgasm whipped through her. She collapsed into the arms of her lovers.

The Judge, spellbound, was beyond rational thought. She slammed her hand into her crotch, desperately fingering her pussy, her entire body quaking. Her cunt was slick; juice flooded her hole, her cunt grabbed at her fingers. She twisted, squirmed, and groaned as the yardstick continued hammering her ass. Her fingers worked faster, stabbing into her spasming cunt; her thumb squashed her pink clit against her body.

The ladies in the room watched and commented.

"Wow, look at Miss Bush, she's such a slut."

"Look at that little whore go."

"Man, I thought she was a cold fish, but it turns out she's a pain slut."

"She's a depraved bitch, ain't she.

"What a harlot."

"Can I beat her next?"

"Check out the floozy."

The Judge muttered, half consciously, "I am a whore, I am a whore...," pushed the heel of her hand against her clitoris and came, her cunt-spasms all but shaking her to pieces. Pleasure from her climaxing cunt and red ass rippled throughout her body, her cries of ecstasy tore around the room. Her snatch clenched down on her fingers one last time, and then, slowly, the shivering tremors of her orgasm faded.

As she lay exhausted on the table I addressed the group.

"Miss Bush promised Shamika to be her personal servant at her birthday party tomorrow. However, it wouldn't be right for Ms. Bush to prefer one student over another, so tomorrow she will be everyones' servant. How many guests will you have Shamika?"

"More than thirty."

"Does that sound fair to you, Miss Bush."

The hunger in her eyes said it did.

I and the ladies left the room. The Judge lay on the table, body and mind numb. When the driver arrived forty-five minutes later the Judge said she'd been a bad girl and begged the driver, without success, to spank her.

On her return to the compound she found me with a glass of champagne. She knelt.

"Ma'am."

"Pet, you look terrible. Go inside, take a quick shower. Your clothes are laid out."

The Judge appeared thirty minutes later wearing a pair of stained too tight jeans, a white tee shirt sans bra, a Phillips 66 baseball cap, and cheap cowboy boots. Her erect nipples tented the shirt. Her hair was pulled back. I applied make-up, perfecting her white-trash look.

"Pet, you dress down well. You were offered your fantasy today, a room full of school girls, and you failed. You need more training. Its amateur night at Eat More Possum, its

a bottom-of-the-barrel red neck strip joint. It always turns into a girl-on-girl show. Get up on stage, eat some pussy, get yours eaten."

The Judge, stinking of cigarettes, whiskey, and beer, reappeared four hours later. She knelt.

"How did it go, pet."

"I did as you said Ma'am. I lost track of the number of pussies I ate. I know a made a bunch of girls come. I think I'm getting better at it. Girls ate me out, five, six, seven of them, I lost count. I was, I am, so horny."

The driver nodded, confirming the Judge's report.

"Excellent pet. Ready for a whipping?"

"Yes Ma'am!"

She leaned over the porch bannister and there, before a group of spectators, I spanked her with a wide flat hickory panel. She orgasmed over-and-over.

* * * *

It was early afternoon of the following day. I was looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows that ran along the back of Jill Anderson's bedroom. Jill was the madam who supplied the students for our classroom. On the back lawn the Judge, naked, was on her knees eating one pussy, fingering two others, and being fucked from behind by a woman wearing a dildo.