Teaching Teacher

"Pervert! Slut!" Heather scolded. "Give me that hand, I'll keep it out of trouble."

The poor teacher grunted as her arm was twisted uncomfortably behind her back. Thankfully, the girl let go of it. Well, if she wasn't going to be allowed to touch herself, at the very least she could put it down and use it to support her weight.

"Did I say you could move it?" Heather said as she twisted her teacher's arm back behind her back. "I want you to keep those paws out of the way. Didn't you learn anything last night?"

In truth that detail had been lost on her last night. The lesson she had learned was to lick and to obey. Now she remembered the finer details. Trying to masturbate Heather with her fingers, only to have her face slapped. Of being manhandled. Having her arms placed above her head. Of having her face slapped whenever she tried to move them.

God, the little pervert expected...this was actually the way of things now. Dear Lord what sort of demon had she fallen under the spell of.

Heather smiled as her teacher moaned in realization. This was the bd in bdsm. Only she didn't need ropes and cuffs. She would do it with her brain. She slapped her teacher on the ass again.

"Work those hips pet," Heather purred. "I you want this dildo you little dyke, I want to see you work for it."

Miss Simms moaned as she humped harder. She could feel her body sweat from her exertions. Both her arms ached. Her calves were threatening to cramp. God, she was so close. So very nearly there. Yet she could never seem to quite get there. But that didn't stop her from trying.

"Shit...fuck.." Heather gasped as she yanked the vibe from her teacher's asshole.

What? What was going on? Why had Heather stopped? Why had she been turned around and sat on the toilet? What was Heather climbing up on the seat?

"Idiot," Heather said. "Pick your clothes up before we get caught!"

Caught? Shit! Then it hit the teacher where she was. What she was doing. She scrambled for her clothes and sat them in her lap. She heard the sound of heels on the tile floor. The squeak of the stall door. Toiled paper. The sound of urine. A grunt. Damn it! Her loins were cooling and it looked as if the hunger she felt might not be sated.

The Miss Simms felt a tug on her chin. Her head was tilted up. Then she saw what her young lover meant to do. Here? Now? Oh God, what choice did she have? The teacher opened her lips and extended her tongue. She felt the girl's saliva on the back of her tongue. God, this was so perverted. She could feel her nipples harden as she swallowed.

Heather smiled. God this cute little bitch was something else. She needed an orgasm - she needed one now.

...well why couldn't she? She was in the perfect place. She tugged her panties to the side and smiled wickedly down at her teacher.

Miss Simms shook her head and mouthed a no to her student. But Heather just smiled and shook her head yes. If only she could talk, and explain there were a million billion reasons they shouldn't do this. That they could both be arrested. That she could lose her job. That she would never be able to live down the humiliation...that...

But the girl had no intention of stopping. Even now the girl had shifted her stance and placed a leg over Miss Simms shoulder. Had lifted her skirt and placed it over her teacher's head. There was a creak of the toilet seat as Heather shifted her hips and rubbed her slick clam over her teacher's lips.

Miss Simms felt dizzy from the danger. They were going to get caught if Heather kept at it. Perhaps she could...do it quietly.

She began to lick. Using gentle flicks of her tongue. God, the girl was wet. She had to swallow repeatedly to keep up with the flow of tangy girl juice. There was no longer the creak of the toilet seat to contend with. However, Heather's breath was ragged. And every once and awhile she gave a tiny mewl of pleasure. Miss Simms prayed it would be interpreted as something else. After all, they were in the restroom.

It felt as if it took forever. In truth it had only been four minutes before the leg behind her shoulder's pulled the teacher in tight and her student's clit had swollen to a small pearl. Miss Simms attacked that taunt pearl with vigor, until her student began to tremble with orgasm.

The commode flushed, just as Heather came down from her orgasm. The poor teacher thought perhaps now...now would be her opportunity to orgasm. To think it had been such a short time ago she despised the idea of having one at the hands of this girl.

But it wasn't to be. Instead she and her student dressed, freshened themselves, and resumed shopping. Only this time shopping was even more humiliating.

They were in one of those hip stores with loud music. Heather was her usual self. She was holding a small ...it was less than small...it was tiny..skirt over Miss Simm's midrift.

"Do you think this is hot?" Heather asked the clerk.

Then it happened. Miss Simms felt it first at the lips of her sex. She tried to tighten them, only to drive the liquid out faster. Then it was down her thigh. Then it landed on her shoe with a plop.

She prayed. She clenched her eyes shut, and oh how she prayed the clerk wouldn't notice. Then she dared to peek. God, the woman was looking down at her shoes.

"Rena," Heather said. "What were you doing this morning...or should I say...who were you doing this morning?"

Miss Simms was mortified and could do nothing more than shrug her shoulders. She had never before felt like...like such a pervert. This woman. Oh the look in her eye said it all. That disdain. But God, she was wet. Wet and hot as ever. What was wrong with her?

When they left the store and safely in the car, Miss Simms was driven to act. She had to.

"Why...why did you do that?" Miss Simms asked. "I wish - I wish you wouldn't embarrass me like that."

"Like what?" Heather teased, darting her hand between her teacher's legs, and teasing her wet quim.

"You know..with that girl," MIss Simms continued, but now it was becoming so very hard to concentrate.

"When your cum leaked out?"

"Mmm...yes..I mean..it wasn't.." But it wasn't like that. It may have been her secretions. It may have well been some of the lube the little demon had squirted inside her.

It was the lube and it had been done on purpose. It wasn't training. Not quite. However, it had been in a story Heather had read, one of those that made her cum each time she read it. There had been a girl that had been turned into a sex toy by her boss. She had been bent over a desk and fucked. Afterwards, she had been sent back to work. And leaked cum onto her heels.

It was a scene Heather had orgasmed to time and again, and had been determined to carry out with her pet teacher.

"You should learn to control yourself better pet," Heather continued. "I don't know if I can take you out if you continue to be so embarrassing..."

"I didn't mean...." By now it was so very hard to think. She hadn't realized that she had embarrassed Heather too. Perhaps if..."Maybe if I could have some panties...it wou...ouch.."

The girl had slapped her. Right on the tender lips of her sex.

"You know better than to ask," Heather said. "The only panties you will be getting into anytime soon are mine."

The drive continued on this way, with Heather using the time to tease her teacher's sex mercilessly. Only it wasn't home they were stopping at, but a restaurant.

"Why are we stopping?" Miss Simms asked.

"For lunch silly." Heather said.

"I thought we could..." Miss Simms began, but this wasn't the same woman the had ridden in this car such a short time ago. This woman was horny. She needed it. Desperately. She took her student's fingers in her mouth and cleaned her juices from them. "...go home and ....Rena needs to cum. She'll do..she'll do whatever you want."

"I know she will," Heather said. "But right now it doesn't matter what either of us want, because we are having lunch with my mom."

Miss Simms heart began to pound. Lunch?!? With Heather's mom? No! She couldn't!

"We can't!" Miss Simms gasped as she looked down and surveyed herself. Jelly heels. Lean ebony legs spread wantonly. A smooth mount, with dark purple lips, swollen, wet and ready. Hard nipples straining against tight fabric. "Look at me."

It was one thing being dressed like this in another city. It was quite another in her own town. Worse, having lunch with Heather's mom. A woman she had met with in teacher's conferences before.

"It's too late," Heather said. "She just pulled in."

Miss Simms quickly pulled down her skirt and did her best to smooth down her nipples. However, it only seemed to make the little nubs stand on end even more.

"Tell her we can't," Miss Simms begged. "Tell her we made other plans. Oh...that we already ate."

"You may have eaten already," Heather laughed. "You had a full serving my taco for lunch, but as for me I'm starving. Come on. Let's go."

"Please...Miss Morgan..." Miss SImms pleaded. "I'll do anything you want. Just not this."

"Come on Rena," Heather said, as she opened her door. "It's just lunch. It's not like I'm gonna fuck you in front of my mom."

"I still say this isn't a good idea," Miss Simms lamented as she got out of the car. She still had reservations. Boy did she have reservations. But, it wasn't as if she had a choice. Saying she was staying in the car would have looked even more suspicious.

And the teacher's reservations were confirmed when she caught the look in Heather's mom's eyes. The woman clearly didn't approve of the way Miss Simms was dressed. The bright side, if there was such a thing, the outfit so far and away from something she would have worn, no one, not even Heather's mom, would ever suspect her of being Heather's teacher. The young teacher did her very best to assume the role of a high school senior in order to keep from arousing suspicions. It wasn't easy. Last night she'd been able to deflect any questions by serving dinner. Now she was expected to mingle. To make small talk.

"So how are you enjoying school Rena?" Heather's mother asked. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"I like school a bunch," Miss Simms replied. "And I ...I don't have a boyfriend."

"A piece of advice from me," Heather's mom replied. "-I know you feel a need to compete with these other girls at school. They may drive better cars and wear nicer things. They may be taller. They may have more curves in the places that boys tend to notice. But take it from me...those heels you have on and that short skirt may get you attention, but it isn't the sort of attention you really want. I'm sorry...am I making you uncomfortable? I'm told I'm too blunt for my own good sometimes."

But it wasn't the older woman's words that were having such an effect. Sure, they didn't make the dark-skinned teacher feel good about herself or her predicament, but it was the girl sitting next to her that was making her squirm in her seat. A presumptuous girl, whose hand was now between the teacher's legs. The teacher tried to clamp her thighs tightly together and turn them away, but the girl was determined.

God, the little deviant was determined to get them both caught. Right her in front of her own mother. Had she no shame? Worse, Miss Simms couldn't resist, lest she draw even more attention to what was going on beneath the booth.

"It's just that...the ...the shoes were on sale," Miss Simms stammered. "and I thought they were pretty."

"And they might be considered 'pretty' where you come from," Heather's mom continued. "But you have been given quite an opportunity by being allowed to attend Heddingham. And this is a different class of people. You should wear clothes that preserve a bit a mystery. Sensible shoes. A well starched shirt."

Dear God...Heather's fingers were working her now. Gliding sensually up and down her wet slit. It felt so good. So damned good that it was impossible to resist. Yes, she knew she must resist, but she didn't have it in her. If they were going to be caught, they would be caught. The poor teacher gave in to her student's deft fingers. Spreading her slim thighs to give the girl access to her charms.

There was still the girl's mother to deal with. What was it that she was talking about. Ahhh...her clothes. The young teacher looked a the older woman with a critical eye. She was older. In her forties, but she looked fit. She was attractive. Like her daughter, her clothes accentuated her body, whereas Serena Simm's clothes displayed hers. Even before the drastic changes, Serena never wore clothes like this woman's. Her clothes had been something she hid behind. A shield.

"I wish I could be pretty like you," Miss Simms stammered, her cheeks growing hot. And her cheeks weren't all that was hot. Her loins were afire with desire. Her student's finger driving her mad.

"That's sweet," Heather's mom said. "But you are pretty in your own fashion Rena. Even in those ridiculous clothes. They make you look like..." Jane Morgan's nostrils flared as she caught her tongue. The girl looked like..the girl she was an eager little tart. But the look in her eye and the way the clothes she wore didn't quite go together, gave her an entirely different impression. A girl who wanted very much to be a tart...anyone's tart. But for now hadn't been picked by anyone as of yet. Images of the dark-skinned girl naked and over her knee flashed before her eyes. The older woman blinked the images away. What was she thinking? This girl was the same age as her daughter.

"Someone who's a bit desperate." Mrs. Morgan finished.

"Mom," Heather spoke up. "You are embarrassing me. The other girls at school wear clothes like this all the time. Thanks to you...I'm the one that doesn't fit in."

"Well I still say," Mrs. Morgan persisted. "No matter what all the other girls are doing...preserve a little mystery. Every man loves a mystery." Mrs. Morgan turned to Heather and said in an entirely different sort of voice: "God knows your dad did." Then back to Serena: "He did. Chased anything in a skirt, that bastard did. I'm sorry...it's the wine talking. I know I embarrass my daughter. I don't mean to. I think it, then I say it. Now what was I saying...ah mystery...like that little shirt of yours..I bet you are an A. 32 or 34?"

God, the woman was looking at her breasts now. Miss Simms looked down. Dear Lord, her nipples stood out like small pebbles. Meanwhile, Heather was still frigging her beneath the table. The young teacher blushed, her hands moving up to cover her breasts, she had never felt so self-conscious. Worse, the woman was waiting on an answer. She wanted to crawl beneath the table.

"32"

"See," Mrs Morgan exclaimed. "I know you don't need a bra, and I admit I'm envious, because I hate mine at times. But at the very least...a nicely starched white shirt. Maybe undo the first two buttons. There's not a boy alive who wouldn't try to sneak a peak whenever you bent down in hopes of catching a glimpse of those cute little perkies."

Mrs. Morgan felt a throb in her loins talking to this pretty young thing. At first the girl didn't seem like much to look at. But the more she looked, the more she wanted. There was something about her. The way she bit her lower lip. The way her eyes appeared to be dilated. The nubby nipples. The faint sheen of perspiration on her brow.

"Put your hands down dear," Mrs. Morgan said in a hushed voice. "You are going to draw notice. Besides...you have cute little breasts my dear. They are nothing to be ashamed of. I spent my youth wanting more, now I'm destined to spend my old age wanting them higher."

Serena put her hands down quickly, not just because Mrs. Morgan had said so, but because the waitress had walked over and the young teacher wanted to make sure that what was going on beneath the table was sufficiently hidden. She had hoped Heather would stop stroking her clit for at least long enough to order. But the girl kept her finger softly stroking her beneath the large napkin in her lap.

It was so hard to concentrate. Miss Simms had no idea what she ordered. No idea what Heather's mom was rambling on about. The only thing she could think of was that stroking finger. Up and down her slit it traveled. Then it spun around her clit only once before traveling up and down again. It was perverse. It was maddening. She wanted to thrown all inhibition out the window and plunge those fingers in her hot cunt. God, what was Mrs. Morgan going on about now? Posture. Sitting up straight. But it was so hard to sit up straight...when her pussy was being teased mercilessly.

Thighs spread. Tits out. Back straight. "Yes ma'am, posture is very important. I don't want to be humped...I mean my back to get hunched." Fuck. Oh fuck she was so close. Any moment now.

"Yes ma'am. Start with the silverware on the outside and work my way in. There's dressing on my chin?" Miss Simms looked down helplessly into her lap. To the busy hand hidden beneath her napkin. Her skirt was rucked up. She wasn't even sitting on it because she was bound to soak the fabric of it were her copious secretions. Her pink tongue darted out and captured the errant liquid. Heather's mom was looking at her oddly.

"Did I get it all ma'am?" Miss Simms asked.

"Your ..." Napkin. But Mrs. Morgan was struck momentarily dumb. There was something in the way the girl's tongue darted out that made her loins grow hot. your napkin...that's what napkins are for you low class little beast. But the words never came. "You...ahhhh... missed a bit on your upper lip. To the side. No the other side."

I'm afraid I've made a bit of a mess between my legs you little minx...do you think I could trouble you....The fantasy grew and took life of it's own. God, this young girl was something. She wanted to dress her. To boss her.

"Elbows off the table. You are slouching again." Jesus. The girl obeyed her every whim. Meanwhile, her own daughter's posture and appearance were unnoticed.

"Ahh...." Miss Simms moaned. Something was different down below. Something rough rubbed against her clit and into her sex. God...what was it?

"Are you okay dear?" Mrs. Morgan asked.

"Yes...ma'am.." Miss Simms said softly. "I ...just a bit of stomach discomfort. I...I don't normally eat food this rich."

"Maybe you should have a bit of my bread stick," Heather smiled as she passed the bread stick to her teacher.

The smell hit her as she put it to her lips. Sex. Musky raunchy hedonistic sex. Now she knew what the rough feeling was that had been rubbing her sex. A bread stick. This bread stick.

"Is something wrong?" Mrs. Morgan asked.

"Yes, is something wrong?" Heather said archly.

"No ma'am..." the young teacher replied sheepishly, as she closed her eyes and took a bite of the bread stick. The beast inside her was fully awake. She took a swallow of water and nibbled another bite of the bread stick, Dear God, she was turning into a pervert, just like this pervert girl next to her. The teasing finger returned to her sex - and she welcomed it. "I'm fine."

"I may have a Tums in my purse," Mrs. Morgan said as she opened her purse and dug around.

The teacher noticed that Mrs. Morgan's bra was visible when she bent over. The woman's breasts jiggled as she rooted around in her pocket book. She almost told the woman, no, she was fine. But by then there was a quivering in her belly that would not be denied. Her body grew stiff as a warm wave of heat passed through loins. The teacher gave a small gasp.

And then it was over.

"Here you are dear," Mrs. Morgan said as she handed over a pack of Tums. "Take as many as you need."

With trembling fingers, Miss Simms took out two tablets and popped them in her mouth.

As her orgasm faded, the guilt and recriminations mounted. The young teacher was ashamed. She had orgasmed in front of Heather's mother. In a crowded restaurant. She had gotten away with it...even though she deserved to be caught.