Teaching Teacher

"Spread those skinny black legs," Heather said. "And move that hand. Don't act so embarrassed, I'm sure I'm not your first student to see that black cunt. I bet you show it to all your students. I bet you've been holding out on me."

"No Miss," Miss Simms said haltingly as she spread her legs, her cheeks becoming hot at her vulnerable state. "I haven't shown any of my students. And no one...no one has seen me ...bare...like this."

"Lather that hot little cunt up," Heather said, sticking her hand down her pants with her teacher's admission.

"Yes Miss," Miss Simms said. She was glad to obey, to at least have a little shaving foam to hide behind. It was cold, but it effectively hid her sex from view. However, she knew it wouldn't last.

"Now pick up that razor." Heather said, as she panned up from her teacher's sex to the anguish in her face.

"I just don't understand why you want me to do this..." Miss Simms picked up the razor with trembling fingers. "Why the waxing just to make me do this?"

Because both scenarios were in stories she read and she couldn't decide? Heather couldn't very well tell her teacher that. Instead she said the first thing that came to mind. "Because I said so. Now do it."

She was already bare. It should have been easy. Yes, there was no danger in cutting herself with the razor. However, each swipe was like stripping. Stripping for her white bitch of a blackmailer. Stripping in front of the video camera. Stripping...oh shit it was getting to her. Her nipples were hard peas on her chest. Her lips...the were beginning to open like petals of a flower.

"Why all the complaining when it's obvious you enjoy it."

"I don't enjoy it...Miss." Miss Simms said.But she wasn't very convincing. Not to Heather.

And not to herself.

Why was this happening? She should be angry. Mortified. She should not be growing aroused.

"My little pet nigger gets off from being on camera, doesn't she?" Heather teased.

"No!" Miss Simms said, her voice stern and angry, and for just one moment, almost that of a teacher in control.

"Look at those nips..." Heather said as she panned from the teachers nipples, then down to her sex. "And that fat little puss. She obviously loves something. If not the camera teach? Then maybe it's me. Is it me? Are you getting off on being my little nigger pet? Or perhaps it was the camera after all."

It was neither. In truth, the poor teacher didn't know what it was that was effecting her body in this fashion. That made her tingle in such an unwanted fashion.

"Which is it Rena?" Heather asked. "Tell me."

"It's.." Miss Simms began. "...the camera."

"Then smile pretty for it," Heather purred.

It wasn't the camera. Surely it wasn't. And yet having to smile for it. The to bite her lip. To stick out her tongue. Like some sort of porn star. The poor teacher felt the tingly feeling grow. To become a yearning.

A need.

"Now stroke it." Heather purred.

"I can't."

"Just a bit."

"I can't." But with razor in one hand, the other snuck in. It was already so close. So very close. And the tingling wouldn't stop.

A brief circling of the clit didn't stop the sensations. If anything, it magnified them. A delving down between her lips only made her want to insert her finger to calm the hunger in her loins.

"Stop." Heather ordered. "Now shave some more."

Miss Simms shuddered as she complied. And though her finger was removed, her loins seemed determined to have it. Her pelvis pushed out. Her legs parted. Her thighs opened wide. Her tongue darted out to moisten dry lips. She drew the razor across her sex exposing a new swath of smooth ebony skin.

"Now stroke."

There was no I can't. No I won't. Eager fingers found her hungry sex. Naked, perched on her student's vanity, she moaned. This time her fingers didn't just delve down between her nether lips, she pressed a finger up into the hungry mouth of her hot sex.

"Dirty little bitch." Heather growled. "Faster."

"God..." Miss Simms moaned as she pumped her finger faster and faster, no longer thinking of her modesty or of the video being made of her humiliation. Now there was only one goal. Bliss. Bliss to make her forget everything.

"Stop." Heather ordered. "Now shave the rest."

The first time the finger had been inserted reluctantly and removed swiftly. This time it was reluctant to leave, giving the teacher a few extra pumps. And though it had a bit of shaving cream at the base, it now shown with nectar.

The teacher ran the razor over her sex. This time with purpose. She was nude now. Bare. Nothing but smooth ebony flesh.

"Stroke it." Heather said.

Miss Simms's eager finger was already ready. It sped around the teacher's clit. It pumped into the mouth of her hot sex.

"Bitch." Heather said breathlessly.

Miss Simm's finger sped. Fuck she was so fucking hot.

"Look up here." Heather ordered her hapless teacher. "Slut."

Miss Simms looked into the camera. It felt as if she were giving up. Giving in. Masturbating. Being called names. Slut. Whore. Cunt. She should be mortified. But though her cheeks burned and the shame made her want to crawl under the table, her loins were afire.

"You like that?" Heather asked. "Does my little pet nigger like it?"

"No...godamnit...no..." Miss Simms said, but it was far too late. And the words came not as an argument, but an admission.

For though she struggled against it, to fight it, the point had been reached. She had fallen over the edge of the chasm and was already on her way down.

Her loins felt like she was on fire. A wave of pleasure condensed inside her sex and forced it's way out. Her face winced. Her slim hips pumped. She grunted. She gasped.

She came.

The sensations, if only for a few moments made the young teacher forget about her humiliation, forget about the blackmail, forget about the video camera trained on her as she came. But her bliss was short-lived.

And the recriminations returned many fold.

"Did I say to cover up?" Heather asked.

"No...no Miss," Serena said. But she wanted so desperately to cover herself. Her nipples were hard little points. Her clit was engorged. Her petals open. Moisture was leaking from her sex.

"You didn't seem worried about it a few moments ago," Heather said. "Did you slut?"

Slut. She'd been called slut several times now, but she never felt like one. Not till now. "No...no Miss."

"Get those legs back out. Get 'em out." Heather said. "Do it or I send a copy of this tape to your mom. How would you like that?"

With cheeks burning in shame, the hapless teacher put her feet back on the edge of the vanity, her body displayed in shame.

"Good girl." Heather said. "Now thank me for the orgasm. Always address me properly and always thank me after your orgasms."

The words were a struggle to get out. The seemed to hang her her throat. "Thank you for the ...orgasm.... Miss Morgan."

"Let's get you dressed," Heather said. "My mom will be home soon."

"I can't wear that...Miss Morgan," Miss Simms hastily added. It was the same short tartan skirt and form fitting top she had worn that afternoon. "Your mom would have me fired for sure."

"I doubt she even remembers what you look like," Heather said, idly twirling her finger in her teachers hair. "But just to be sure."

Heather's fingers kept twirling, but this time with purpose. When Miss Simms caught on to her student's plan, it felt as if her stomach had dropped to her knees.

"Please Miss," the poor teacher begged. "Please don't do this."

"Shhh..." Heather urged her fingers deftly looping the three strands of hair together. "You don't want my mother to recognize you, do you? Well with these cute little pigtails, she'll never imagine for one moment that you are a teacher."

No-no-no...This was horrible. It was the very thing that Miss Simms always struggled to avoid. Due to her small stature, she made sure to wear clothes suitable for someone ten years old, a hair style for someone in her thirties, and she avoided events with a lot of young people.

But now. Now, looking at herself in the mirror. The girl she saw looking back at her, with her trendy little clothes, her pigtails, and a bit of bright colored make-up, wasn't a teacher. Wasn't someone to be respected. She was just a young girl. A girl who could be dismissed and told what to do.

"Now don't you look pretty?" Heather said. "I want you to make us some dinner before my mom get's home."

"Dinner?" Miss Simms didn't know these people's kitchen. She wasn't their servant.

"Dinner." Heather said, picking up a hairbrush. She lifted her teacher's short tartan skirt and applied the back of the hairbrush as if she were born to it.

"Wait - ouch," Miss Simms begged, dancing nimbly out of the way. "I-I ouch- don't even know what kind of owww...food you have in your kitchen."

"Only one way to find out," Heather said, keeping hold of the hem of her teacher's skirt to keep the woman in arm's reach and applied the brush again and again.

"Okay...ouch...okay..." Miss Simms said. "...I'm doing it."

The hapless teacher walked briskly to the kitchen. As fast as was able with her student one step behind, paddling her on one cheek and then the other with her every step.She opened the refrigerator and looked inside. It was so hard to think whilst being paddled. It didn't hurt, but it did sting. Most of the blows were more for show than anything. Yet, every once and a while one of those blows would land with force. It was enough to make the teacher hussle. It was enough to make her jump in anticipation with every new blow that landed.

"I could make a chicken stir-fry," the teacher remarked.

"I don't want chicken," Heather said. "Look in the freezer and see if we have any fish."

The blows kept landing, and Miss Simms was an even better target as she bent down to check in the freezer.

"You have... ah... shrimp," Miss Simms said. "Stop spanking me...please...I can't think...ouch...I can..ah...make a shrimp stir-fry."

The poor teacher was pleased that the spanking had finally stopped.

"That sound delish," Heather said. "Do you think we have enough?"

"You have nearly a poun - oh!" the teacher gave a startled yelp.

Heather pushed her finger further up her teacher's tight wet sex and had to smile. Not only because the woman was taking it without argument, but because she was clearly aroused at the prospect.

"You like being spanked, don't you little bitch?" Heather asked. "That hot little cunt of yours gives you away."

"I don't..I don't ...like being spanked." Miss Simms demurred. God, this white lesbo was getting to her. "Anyone could be touching me right now. It's just an involuntary reaction to sexual stimulation."

"So if *anyone* touches you; you get hot?" Heather asked.

"Yes..." Miss Simms whispered. Her hips were moving now, no matter how she tried to still them. God, wouldn't this girl stop if only for a moment?

"You sound like quite the slut to me," Heather said."That is..if you have this reaction every time someone touches you."

"I-I..I've never had anyone to..." Miss Simms stammered. She wasn't a slut. She wasn't a lesbian either. She was good. Not some wierdo like Heather. But at the moment it didn't seem like her body was living up to her expectations. It was busy working itself on the finger embedded so delightfully in her sex. Her body didn't care if the finger belonged to a girl - her student. Her body only cared for more.

"Get to work," Heather urged, giving her teacher a smack on the bottom to get the woman in motion.

But it wasn't easy work. Trying to slice with a knife, all while being felt up.

"Please Miss," Miss Simms begged. "I'll cut myself."

"Then open your mouth," Heather said. Then when seeing her teacher's puzzled look, she expounded. "I'm going to put my fingers somewhere. If you can't take 'em in your puss, you'll take 'em in your mouth."

"I ah...I don't mind..," Miss Simms lied. She tried to ignore them. God, how she tried. But they were taking her further and further. She couldn't concentrate. She was bound to make an error with the sharp bladed knife. There was no other choice she told herself.

"In my mouth," Miss Simms said dutifully. "Will you put them in my mouth Miss Morgan?"

"You want to clean my fingers for me pet?" Heather asked. "You are right, I seem to have put them in something filthy and disgusting. Just look how slimy they are."

Heather held the digits in front of her teacher and spread them apart, a strand of the thick fluid stretched between her middle and forefinger. She felt a shudder run down her teacher's small frame.

"Who could have got them so slimy and filthy?" Heather sneered. "Who?"

"Me Miss," Miss Simms said and took the soiled fingers in her mouth. She didn't think she'd ever get used to that tangy slightly musty flavor, but at least this time it wasn't a surprise. She proceeded to get back to work chopping vegetables.

"Give me that carrot," Heather said. Keeping her fingers in her teacher's mouth was fun, but hardly practical while the woman struggled to made dinner. That was where the carrot came in. Every few minutes she pushed her teacher down over the counter and rucked up her short skirt. Then she used the carrot on her as some sort of makeshift vegetarian dildo. Fucking her teacher with it. Not just fucking, but teaching her how to fuck.

"Move those hips," Heather ordered, slapping her teacher's ebony bottom for emphasis. "Are you useless? Some sort of wet fish? For a girl who gets off when anyone touches her, I expected a bit more fun. Is that how you do it, just lay there like a corpse? Do you have one of your boyfriends phone number handy? I bet there's one in that phone of yours isn't there? Now get those hips busy before I give him a call and find out how bad a lover you were."

Serena Simms had by now had several boyfriends so far in her 26 years. And with a blush, she realized that they had all...every last one, wanted her to be more adventurous. And that yes Brian's phone number was still in her Blackberry. She couldn't let this little bitch call him. Couldn't be shamed in such a fashion. Even if it mean being shamed in another almost as humiliating fashion instead.

Miss Simms began to move her slim coltish hips.

"Is that better?" she asked timidly, her cheeks hot as flame.

"It's a start," Heather said, grinning sadistically. "But there are more ways to move than back and forth dimwit. Why there's up and down? There's side to side. And even around and around. Fuck you are boring. Where is that phone? Let me get a few pictures to send, I bet one of those boyfriends will have some pointers."

"Wait..please...Miss.." Miss Simms begged. God how she hated this. Hated begging for it almost as much as the doing of it. "See I'm doing it. Look. Isn't this...ahh...better..uh..uh..."

Yes it was better. God, the woman was doing it. She was humping the carrot like some sort of sex starved rabid rabbit. Fucking it. Flexing her hips. Rotating them. Her cute little asshole winking in the process. Heather felt her pussy throb watching her teacher submit to her sadistic whims.

The poor teacher also felt her sex throb with excitement, however, her excitement was unwanted. Dear God, it was a vegetable she was fucking for heaven sakes. She shouldn't be feeling this warm welling in her loins. Not for this. Not this quickly. However, it seemed as though moving her body like some sex starved tramp...was actually turning her into a sex-starved tramp.

Yet, she had no choice in the matter. Her boyfriends, at least the two she had been intimate with, would have been satisfied with her laying there- would have been thrilled with a little back and forth of the hips.

But this girl - only a student, wanted more. She had her writhing around in a most humiliating manner. In a manner that threatened to send her quickly over the edge.

"Please Miss," Miss Simms begged as she slowed her hips to a steady back and forth.

"Why are you slowing slut?" Heather asked, suspecting the answer already. "Getting lazy again?"

"No Miss Morgan...I'm ahh...I'm close..."

"Close huh?" Heather smiled as she popped the carrot out of her teacher's wet sex. "Well we can't have that. Get off the counter and get back to work. But kiss me first."

Once more, Miss Simms kissed her student. To her horror she realized that her body sought out the kiss this time. Returned it and gave it in turn.

Miss Simms returned to prepping the stir-fry, although her concentration was faltering. By the time her passions would cool, Heather would use the carrot on her once again.

But there was worse to come. The first time, Miss Simms had been rudely pushed over the cutting board. The second time she was ordered on top of the counter, with her legs spread wide. Then against the stove with the heat of the wok licking her breasts.

And so by the time the poor teacher finished dinner, Miss Simm's mental state was beyond impaired. The girl was doing things to her. God, making her fuck that carrot. Fuck it like some sort of porn actress. Working it. Back and forth. Up and down. Around and around.

Reaching back and pulling apart the cheeks of her bottom. Mashing them together. Worse, she was moaning. It couldn't be helped. Neither could the moisture leaking down her thighs. Moisture she was made to lick with fingers and tongue. She thought of nothing..nothing but the orgasm she dreaded at first, but now yearned for so desperately.

That is...until she heard the front door open and a woman say loudly, "Heather...I'm home."

"Shit! It's mom." Heather said, quickly throwing the carrot away and washing her hands. She was pleased that her teacher had used the time to smooth down her skirt and otherwise make herself presentable.

"Let me out the back door quickly," Miss Simms whispered urgently.

"Something smells good," Miss Janice Morgan said as she walked into the kitchen. "Did my darling daughter pick up dinner?"

Then she directed her stare to Miss Simms, then back to her daughter.

"Who is ... this?"

"This is my friend Rena," Heather said. "Remember? I told you I was having a sleepover."

"But.." Heather's mother was unsure of this Rena. For one, the girl was black. For two..she was black. Three..what was her daughter doing with a black friend, when she attending a perfectly good private school. Well, hopefully, the girl came from money. Obviously she would or she wouldn't be in Heather's school.

"Who are your parents dear?" Mrs. Morgan asked. "Have I heard of them?"

"They are nobody..really.." the poor teacher said. She was going to have to keep up this charade. It was far too late to stop now.

"I mean surely they are-" Mrs. Morgan continued.

"Heather is a scholarship student," Heather said. "They give out one place a year to someone who can't afford it. That's why I invited her over. I thought that maybe I could give her some of my old clothes."

I'm going to have to make sure that's all she takes and not anything valuable, Mrs. Morgan thought to herself.

"She made dinner." Heather said.

"Thank you dear," Mrs. Morgan said, and not able to resist, gave the young one of the young black girl's pigtails a playful tug. "That was very sweet- and I love your cute little hair style."

"Thank you ma'am." Serena said, feeling her cheeks flush. God, the woman had tugged her hair as if she had every right. It had been ten years or more since endure such treatment back before she had become an adult.

"Come on mom," Heather said, taking her mom by the arm and leading her to the dining room. "Let's go sit down so Rena can get on with serving us our dinner."

Mrs. Morgan tugged free from her daughter's grip. "Young lady, you can't invite someone over and expect they serve you like some sort of sl.." Then she looked hastily at her daughter's friend to see if she had offended the girl. "I didn't mean anything by that Rena. Do your people get offended by the 'ess' word?"