Teaching Teacher

"Go on..." Heather said, this time encouraging her teacher with a pop on the cheek. Not hard. Just because she could. Then she held the woman by the chin, forcing her to look her in the eyes. Forcing her to watch as she held her hand to the side of her cheek and pop her once more. Then she held her chin once again, but instead of a slap on the cheek, she extended her finger.

Her pussy danced as her teacher opened her lips and took in the digit. Took it in and sucked submissively.

Heather carelessly pulled her finger free and popped her teacher on the cheek once again.

"Get off me," Heather said cruelly. "I see that I've been wasting my time with you."

"Wait," Miss Simms begged. God, she was so close. Too close to be robbed. Too far along to be discarded in such a manner. This girl. This infuriating girl. She should...God for everything that had been done...she should hate this girl. She needed...she needed to hate her. And yet, somehow despite it all, the feeling not just in her loins...but the one higher up...that aching feeling. Of needing to belong. She knew what was about to happen, but she was powerless to stop.

Serena hugged the girl close. Bent close to her ear, and wrapped her arms and legs round her tight. She was always an outsider. One of her people would never ...ever... utter......not in a million years...not in a moment of passion...not even in a whisper....

"I'm ...your pet nigger." God, uttering such a horrible thing should have cooled her passions. And if not that, the finger buggering her tight arsehole, had grown more and more uncomfortable. Or the crotch...while hers was newly smooth, the one she humped with such wild abandon, was covered by a thick curly down that while nice at first, was feeling more and more like sandpaper to her tendermost parts.

"Again," Heather urged, once again lightly smacking her teacher on the cheek.

"I'm your pet nigger." Miss Simms admitted. God, oh God. She was so close. She worked her hips with reckless abandon. No longer concerned if the girl's mother was around to hear the creaking of the springs or the headboard against the wall.

Heather was in heaven too. This. This was what it was all about. Owned Teacher. Stacy's Senior Year. All those stories she had masturbated to. Wanting. Yearning. No longer being satisfied with boys. No longer being satisfied with girls. Needing more. Needing a ...slave.

And poor Miss Simms. She needed to be needed. A pretty little thing. She would have put up with a lot from a man. She read magazines to learn how to please her eventual husband.

But, tonight she learned to please her new lover.

A woman.

A girl.

Huddled in the larger girl's damp embrace, uttering the after sex I love yous to one another. But there was much more to learn than she reckoned. She discovered it at 2:00 in the morning when her head was pushed down beneath the covers. It was hot. Hard to breath. And the air was heavy with the musk of sex. Not fresh sex, but dank.

It was intimidating. Scary. But she could do this. She would do it. For her lover. She kissed. First here. Then there. She used her fingers to spread the girl's lips.

And was rewarded with a slap and a sharp tug on her ear.

Ouch! The ungrateful little...

Heather hoisted up the covers so her teacher could hear.

"Use your mouth," Heather said. "And keep those paws out of the way. I'll tell you if I want them."

Bitch! Little spoiled bitch! But Miss Simms held her tongue. And soon it was too late because the covers were down once again, sealing her into her tight cocoon. God it was hot down there. She began to kiss the girl once again. But this time, something was different. The moment had been lost. She stuck out her tongue and licked. The flavor was tangy. More so than before. Slightly unpleasant. But perhaps it wasn't the flavor. Perhaps it was this new feeling that wasn't there before. She felt like...

...a servant.

This wasn't making love. That was made clear when she was ordered not to use her hands. Now she was serving. Orally serving this spoiled little rich girl. A nigger the girl had said. A pet nigger. Was this her role now? Oh God...

The hapless teacher gave a moan, partly of despair, partly of desire. She was rewarded as Heather opened her thighs in response. The eighteen year old's fingers running lovingly through her teacher's hair.

God, even this. Even this was a turn on. Well if the little bitch doesn't appreciate my fingers, I'll make good use of them, Miss Simms concluded. The teacher gave a low moan as her fingers delved into her wet sex. A moan the turned to frustration as her ear was sharply tugged. She reluctantly brought her hands back up. She wasn't even to be allowed the joys of masturbation. Her job. Her job was to use her mouth and lips. To pleasure. To service.

And it took awhile. It took over forty-five minutes beneath those hot covers. It took perseverance. It took fortitude. But eventually. Eventually she learned the right buttons to press. The buttons to make her student tremble. Her legs to spread. Her hips to thrust. To breath heavy. And finally to quake with orgasm.

It was quite a turn of events. All day the last thing Miss Simms wanted was an orgasm from this spoiled rich girl. But now? Now she craved one. It was all she could think about now that she was above the covers and clutch embraced from behind. A hand was between her legs. Perhaps she could? A little thrust of the hips?

A slap on her ass.

"Stop that. Did I give you permission?" Heather warned. "Now apologize."

"I'm ahhhh...." Miss Simms couldn't prevent the moan that escaped her lips. The hand returned between her legs, but this time a finger was thrust into her wet hungry sex. "Sorry...ma'am."

"Now be a good pet and stay still and quiet so I can get some sleep."

"Yes ma'am." Serena said. But she couldn't think of sleep. Just sex. Sex and the finger. If only it would....but it never did.

But sleep did eventually come. However, it proved short-lived. Two hours later, and she servicing her student again. This time she was above the covers. That should have made things easier.

Only it didn't.

Slap. Slap. A pop to one cheek and then the other.

"Not like that," Heather said. "Turn over."

Another slap on her cheek as Miss Simms hurried to obey.

"No dummy," Heather said. "I'm not licking you. Turn the other way."

Miss Simms was manhandled into place. She was on her back. The top of her head was between Heather's shapely thighs. Her legs hung off the bed. ]

"Get up there," Heather impatiently demanded. "Lick."

Miss Simms gave a groan of despair. What the girl was asking was impossible. Although...perhaps...her head was already tilted back as far as it could go. Yet, if she arched her back, putting her weight on the top of her head, bending back as far as she could, extending her tongue, she could just...

"Oh yeah, that's it," Heather purred.

Miss Simms was doing it. She was licking. It was awkward. Unnatural - upside down as she was. It was also uncomfortable.

Very.

Her back ached. Her neck felt even worse. But Heather seemed to be enjoying the attention, though sometimes it was hard to tell.

"Oh yes," Heather moaned. "Lick it. Lick it you sweet bitch."

Yes, the girl sounded happy enough. However, the occasional slap on the cheek or the abrupt tug on the chin made the poor teacher wonder if the girl was getting any enjoyment out of the situation at all. Worse, the teacher's legs hung off the edge of the bed, putting more of a strain on her spine. She tried to inch her way up, however, at the same time, Heather slid down and tilted her hips up.

It was a more comfortable position for Miss Simms, except for one small detail. Now her nose was buried in the young girl's ass. She tried to wriggle back down, but Heather caught her behind her neck kept her from escaping. A couple of light slaps persuaded the teacher it was in her best interest to stay right where she was. Even if...

Even if she was extremely uncomfortable. Even if she was no longer smelling the musky scent of sex, but the more earthy scent of ass. Even if there seemed to be no reciprocation for her own growing needs. Even if she were being manhandled like never before, her tongue gripped between forefinger and thumb and pulled out till the root ached because she wasn't licking precisely where told. Having her cheek slapped. Being gripped by the chin and made to shake her head this way and that, drilling her nose into that tight hole she didn't want to think of.

The moaning was louder now and the bed was squeaking once again. Miss Simms merely had to hold on for the ride because Heather's finger sped about her clit. Even still, Miss Simms was made to compete with the more dexterous digit, lest she get slapped or berated. But finally..finally the girl stiffened. Her legs thrusting out into the air. A trembling pervaded her body as her orgasm slammed home.

The poor teacher did her best to cope with the girl's copious discharge. However, some still ended up going into her nose, making the woman cough and sputter.

Miss Simms was pulled back up into Heather's arms once again. The teacher was hot. So fucking hot. She rubbed her body against her student. Feeling the heat of the girl's crotch against her ass. Thrusting against the finger that was thrust into her wet and hungry sex. God...she was close. It wouldn't take long. Not at all.

"Stop moving so much," Heather said. "You are keeping me awake."

Miss Simms bit back an angry retort. She was the one who had been awakened and made to service the girl. And now the girl was satisfied, while her loins were aching with need. And the finger inside her taunting her. Teasing her. Well, the girl didn't say she couldn't move at all. She would just not move as much.

A gentle thrusting of the hips was all that was required.

Oh that was nice. She could even make the tiniest of circles.

God her juices were running down her thighs. She felt a trembling in her abdomen. Fuck she needed this. But it wasn't enough. She thrusted more vigorously.

"You are such a slut." Heather said. "Now stop that right now."

"... sorry," Miss Simms whispered. She slowed her hips. Rocking them imperceptibly. Slowly - slowly. Every so slowly. But God, it wasn't enough.

"I said stop." Heather said.

Miss Simms gave a weak gasp. She'd been better off doing nothing. Now she was more turned on than before and it was obvious that further action on her part would only result in more distress. Perhaps once more. Even knowing she wouldn't be sated. She rocked her hips gently for a few minutes more and then tucked herself as close to her student as she could, until she could feel the girl all along her body. She gave a dissatisfied sigh and did her best to go to sleep once again.

Heather smiled unseen in the darkness. Her teacher was owned now. Owned by her. There was still more training. There was a lot more training, but the hard work had been done.

++++++++++++++

The next day the training continued. Heather made her teacher shower with her. Made the woman wash her body and shampoo her hair. To give her another orgasm. She even returned the favor, except without the orgasm. Instead, she teased the woman mercilessly.

After the shower, and the endless teasing, the poor teacher's legs could barely support her weight. She let herself be drawn into the young girl's embrace. Let herself be kissed. Even kissed the girl back. It felt odd still, to have soft breasts rubbing against her own. To have long hair in her face. To know that yes, she was kissing a girl. That at the very least, she was bisexual.

But there was something else odd about these kisses. They felt wetter than usual. Like her mouth was awash in ....

Dear Lord, it was the girl's saliva. She should pull away. God, it was perverse thought. But perhaps it was only her imagination.

Yes, perhaps it was. Surely she had imagined it. Then once again she was kissed more forcefully, and once again that same wash in her mouth she had to swallow to continue.

Heather could feel the heat mount in her loins. She was abuzz with the secret knowledge that she was training her slave and the woman didn't even know it. But the woman was going to learn...and she was going to learn to love it.

Heather tilted her teacher's head back by her chin. She kissed the woman forcefully, exploring her mouth with her tongue. She broke the kiss, then returned again, this time with her tongue extended. The teacher met it with her own then took it eagerly into her mouth. Heather repeated this a few times, warming the older woman to the idea of accepting what she was given.

Finally Heather moved down for another kiss, but stopped before contact was made. Then she allowed her saliva to slip down her tongue.

Miss Simms saw it coming. She knew for certain that she'd been drinking from the girl along now. It hadn't been her imagination.

This was....God this was dirty. This was subservience.

She opened her lips. She took it in. And was rewarded with a kiss and wonderful hot hand roaming freely over her body.

"That's my good girl," Heather purred. She was so proud of her teacher. Her slave teacher.

Miss Simms looked up at her student with puppy dog eyes. She was at a loss for words. She didn't have time for words because the girl had opened her lips once more and more saliva was on the way.

The teacher accepted it meekly. This time there was no kiss to follow. Her student merely put her finger to her teacher's lips and closed them.

Miss Simms felt the heat rush to her cheeks. This was different than before. Before, there had been a kiss. A kiss she could hide behind. She had shared it back with the girl. A kinky moment between them both. But now?

Now the girl's saliva was in her mouth. Even in her childhood, she'd always know that spitting was nasty. That one of the worst things someone could do was to spit on you. The few times she'd ever witnessed it happen, it always came to blows.

Yet, here she was. With a girl's spit in her mouth, and the worm inside her, the worm that had been asleep began to stir. It stirred in that hidden place she never knew existed. What was this feeling that made her feel like a paper boat caught in the current. It wasn't just sex. That would be easy enough to explain.

But this girl knew it was inside her. This strange strange feeling. This girl with her expectant eyes. This girl that whispered in her ear.

"I want to hear you swallow."

She knew. She knew - and she approved.

The teacher swallowed. The girl smiled.

The training. Oh yes, training was going better than Heather ever imagined.

The training continued. The stories Heather read served as a blueprint. Her teacher was dressed in skimpy little clothes. A thin pink tank and a cute little mini skirt. A band around her hair and cute little platforms completed the outfit.

In the stories, Miss Simms would have worn similar clothes, only the overall effect would have been to make the woman look like some sort of streetwalker. However, a girl...a girl knew better. A girl could take the very same clothes and make an entirely different effect. Instead of a streetwalker, she could take a twenty-six year old woman, a tiny petite woman and transform her - turn her from a woman - and into a little teen tart. Not a slut. No. Worse.

A wannabe.

A girl wearing heels to appear older. But they were too cute, too cute and plastiky to ever be worn by a woman. A girl of a certain age wouldn't know better. But a young girl. A girl without much up top, who compensated by wearing the shortest skirt possible to show off her lean legs.

"I look like a fool," Miss Simms thought to herself. But at least, at least the girl had taken her to a town forty-five minutes away to play this cruel -cruel game. Yet, though being forty-five minutes away from home provided some protection, it wasn't complete. She could still bump into one of her students, a parent, or a fellow teacher.

In her little outfit, with no panties, no bra, and those shoes...God those shoes. She felt like such a tramp. She could feel people staring at her. And Heather wasn't making things any easier. She was constantly touching. Even now...even walking down the aisle of the mall, her hand rested on Miss Simms backside. Not just rested, but moved between the cheeks of her bottom. Touching her nether hole through the weave of the skirt.

"Please Miss Morgan," Miss SImms begged, trying to dance away, only she couldn't because the girl held her by the hem of her small skirt. "Someone could see."

"They'll see more than that if I pull the hem of your skirt up," Heather warned. "They'll see you aren't wearing any panties for one thing. And why is that Rena? Why aren't you wearing any panties?"

It felt like Miss Simms would choke on the words. The words Heather had said early that morning. Words she'd been forced to repeat over and over. Words she didn't want to say, but she knew she had to say them, lest the girl raise the hem of her skirt and show the world what lay therein. And it wasn't just the people in the rear, getting a glimpse of bare bottom. There were those in the front to think of, those whole would see a smooth bare sex, and a moist aroused sex.The would assume..they would assume that she was a party to this..that she enjoyed it. That it turned her on.

"Because my hot little ass and my juicy little...my juicy little cunt...belong to you," Miss Simms stammered, as her cheeks grew heated. "And I have to keep them available to you."

"And your bra," Heather said. "Why aren't you allowed to wear a bra pet?"

"Because my tits...are too small," Miss Simms squeaked. And just then she saw one of the two young women that were passing do a double-take. Saw her eyes widen in response, the the quick glimpse down to her chest, and a superior smile form on the woman's lips. An elbow to her friend and a whisper in the ear. God, had she heard?

The pink tank did little to hide her treasures. Her small mounds were displayed for anyone to see. She was used to being ignored. But now she kept catching people glancing at her chest - at everything.

And it was unwelcome attention, especially with her nipples standing out like erasers. Even her the shape of her aureoles were visible.

God, she had never felt so humiliated. And worse, she was wet. She could feel the juices running down her thighs.

Why had she allowed herself to be taken out looking like this? Sure there was the matter of the blackmail material. She should be trying to find away out of this horrible mess instead of going along with it. She was the teacher. She was used to dealing with troublesome students. And that's all Heather was. A troublesome student.

But it was getting harder and harder to think of the girl as a student. Not when they were in Victoria's Secret, and Heather was holding a see-through bra and panty up.

"I bet you'd like to see me in this wouldn't you Rena?" Heather asked.

"Yes," Miss Simms said, with her cheeks growing hot. God, the store clerk was right there.

"Can I help you young women with something," the woman asked.

"Just looking" Heather told the woman. Then held up a tiny g-string and turned to her teacher. "Or would you prefer me in this?"

The clerk looked uncomfortably between the two girls. She was supposed to stay close to them, to keep an eye open for shoplifters. Yet, she felt conspicuous with this intimate turn of conversation.

"The other," Miss Simms squeaked. The g-string was so small. Images of the girl in them were clouding her mind. Yet, they had an audience, so she choose the panty with the most cover.

"Because it's see through?" Heather asked. "And you like to see it huh? I bet you'd like to do more than see it, wouldn't you?"