Archive
name: Anthea Parfitt Part One.HTM (F/FF, FD, Slavery, hum)
Authors
name: SmotherFan ([email protected])
Story
title: Anthea Parfitt Part One
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This
work is copyrighted to the author and the Smother World Organisation©
2003. Please don't remove the author
information or make any changes to this story.
All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration.
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Authors Note: This is the first in a trilogy of
stories surrounding the humiliation and enslavement of a pretty young female
teacher, Anthea Parfitt, by the girls supposedly under her care. You can read each
part of the trilogy in any order that you wish, but it makes more sense to read
in the order in which they were written.
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Ms. Hempleman was in her late forties to early
fifties. She looked exactly as the head and proprietor of an exclusive girl’s
school should look, with greying hair swept back off her pinched face, Harris
tweed jacket and skirt and a good plain blouse beneath.
I had applied for the post at the
Ms. Hempleman cleared her throat daintily.
“Tell me Miss Parfitt, why the Hempleman?”
It was a simple question and one that I had an
answer already prepared, much to my surprise and pleasure the answer tripped
off my tongue as I’d rehearsed it. I was well into my explanation.
“You are only twenty three.” Interrupted Whyle.
“That’s only a littler older that the final year.”
I hesitated. It was another question I had prepared
for; still, it was rude to interrupt a candidate.
“Mr. Whyle’s daughter Miranda is in the final year.
She is also our head girl.” Broke in Ms. Hempleman.
“Quite.” Continued Whyle with a sideward glance
towards her. He obviously didn’t like being interrupted. I wondered if Miranda
was head girl on merit or because of daddy’s money. “As I was saying, you are
only twenty three, don’t you think that a little bit young for this post.
Miranda will be nineteen before she leave’s the Hempleman. It would make you a
little more than four years her senior. Is that a big enough gap to establish a
degree of control and supervision?”
I gave the answer I had prepared. “I think the
small age difference is an advantage. I believe I’ll understand the problems
that girls of Miranda age experience.” I left it there, before I offended Ms
Hempleman. As things turned out I couldn’t have been more wrong.
There was more chat. The truth was I was ideally
qualified if inexperienced for the post. It was just going to be a matter of if
my face fitted. It did. After a thirty-minute wait in the staff room I was
summoned back into Ms. Hempleman’s inner sanctum. Whyle had left; presumably he
found the salary haggling not to his taste.
The deal was simple. I would be rather well paid to
be the junior housemistress of Nightingale House, which meant sleeping in,
looking after the younger girls and finally sacrificing my Easter break.
Ms. Hempleman explained. “Most of the girls travel
home for Easter and this year
It was fine. Red Sands was offering more than
double my last interview panel had. If it meant losing out on a few days break
then so what! A few terms at Red Sands and I could choose where I worked and
almost when. I was young enough to pass a couple of years in this isolation
I accepted and five days later joined the small and
as I discovered quite elderly staff of Red Sands.
As part of my induction I met both the Head Girl
and also the Nightingales Senior girl. I knew that Miranda was the Head Girl
but was surprised that Tabatha was the Nightingales Senior girl. As we were all
part of the same house we met in my rooms. This was a rather grand description for
a bedroom, study cum lounge and bathroom. A posh bed-sit was a better
description. Still it was rent-free, as was the food, which made my salary seem
even more attractive. I was starting to think I’d really landed upon my feet.
Miranda and Tabatha, by dint of their seniority, no
longer wore school uniforms. They both dressed casually in jeans and t-shirts.
Miranda was the taller, a dark haired beauty with lustrous green eyes and a
wide mouth. Tabatha was slighter, a blonde with icy blue eyes that seemed to be
always staring at you.
Both girls played sport and I was genuinely envious
of the hard sheen they had to their bodies.
We chatted. There was nothing sinister or difficult
on the agenda. I wanted to learn about the school and these two seemed as good
a starting point as any of my fellow teachers. They were also much nearer to my
own age and I felt, if not kinship, at least common ground with them.
It soon became obvious that Miranda was the leader
and that Tabatha was some kind of follower. Until this meeting I hadn’t linked
them together but now I realised that they were friends, close friends. I
wondered how close was close. I’d already realised that in the all girl
environment of the school and in the Houses, a certain sexual atmosphere
existed. I just hadn’t expected it to be quite so obvious. Their body language,
little sideward glances towards each other. It all spoke of a deep
understanding and intimacy between the two girls. It made me feel
uncomfortable. I was no prude and if two women wanted each other’s company more
than a man’s, then that was their business. I just didn’t like it pushed into
my face, so to speak.
“When dad said someone as young as you was
favourite for the job no one believed it.” Miranda began. “I mean the rest are
all old prunes.” In a sentence she dismissed the rest of the teaching staff. It
was a sentiment I shared but I couldn’t let it pass.
“I
think that’s unfair.” I replied non-committally.
Miranda pulled a face. “Stop here too long and you’ll
be the same.” She continued. “I mean Miss, you are pretty!”
“Easter!” I wanted to change the subject. As soon
as Miranda had started on about my looks both girls had seemed to tense. I felt
my cheeks colour. I was all too aware of the possibility of schoolgirl crushes.
“Good time!” Smirked Tabatha. “Ms. Hempleman and
the rest will be off site. You’ll be able to smuggle a man or two in.”
More dangerous ground: I could suddenly see what
Miranda’s father had been on about. It helped that I was between boyfriends but
I still liked to fuck. It was still hardly a subject I could discuss with
Miranda and Tabatha. In another existence they might just have been younger,
but still eligible friends.
“I don’t think so.” I said as coolly as I could
manage. “I think we should all adhere to a no men rule.”
“Why is
that Miss?” Smiled Miranda. “Are you a lesbian?”
“Certainly
not.” I spluttered, shocked and disgusted at the suggestion.
“Pity!” Miranda pursed her lips. “We might have had
some fun, keep it in the House, so to speak.” She laughed.
I was blushing and starting to perspire. “I think
that’s all. Thank you girls.” I stood up to dismiss them. “Thank you girls.” I
repeated.
“That’s okay Miss. Another time, maybe?” Miranda first
and then Tabatha rose to their feet. I was painfully aware that Miranda was
both taller and heavier that I whilst Tabatha was probably the same build and
weight as myself. Miranda was so close that we could have touched. “Bye!”
They left and left me trembling. What had I been
offered, lesbian sex with two eighteen year olds? Were they joking? Was this
just a wind up, to test out a new teacher? I hoped and prayed that it was.
The two weeks to Easter passed. I was witness to
the frenzy of girls; the school had over one hundred pupils, being collected by
parents, nannies, even the odd bodyguard. Then Ms. Court took the dozen or so
younger girls off to the camp. I discovered only then that apart from myself
only Miranda and Tabatha were still in the school. I admit to suffering a
slight qualm at the realisation, not because of the implied lesbian threat, but
I had assumed that more of the one hundred and twenty plus staff and pupils
would still be in the school. There was of course the caretaker, but he was
left to secure the grounds.
Still I resolved to make the most of the Easter
break. It would last for ten days before Ms. Court and her campers returned. It
was a chance to relax. I spent the first day writing letters. Red Sands was set
in the wilds, great countryside, but not much happening. It was to far away
from my family and friends for them or myself to visit, so telephone and
letters were the only way of communication. Red Sands wasn’t yet computerised,
so such obvious things as the Internet and Email were impossible. I drove into
the nearest village, posted my letters and was on the way back when I spotted
Miranda and Tabatha.
I slowed down, partly to offer them a lift and also
because I had no idea that they weren’t in the school. I wanted to know where
they had been. I hadn’t exactly been watching my charges and seeing them
reminded me of my duties. The two girls piled in and I immediately smelt the
booze on their breath. It was only mid afternoon and they were already
drinking.
As if in answer to my unasked question, Miranda
laughed softly and said. “You said nothing about drinking, just no booze in
school, and we are overage.”
“Very cute!” I answered. I was annoyed that they’d
ignored my instructions, but even angry that they had so easily found a way
around them.
“You
are Miss, we both think that.” Miranda giggled.
I should have seen what was coming. I shouldn’t
have stopped to give them a lift. After all anything that happened was my word
against theirs and I knew whom Ms Hempleman would believe and it wasn’t me.
“Don’t be silly.” I tried. If I’d have been fifteen
years older then it might have sounded right. As I was more like their elder
sister it didn’t sound right nor did it work.
“Nothing
silly in this.” Murmured Miranda and placed her hand on my knee.
I nearer crashed the car in shock. I was wearing a
loose cotton dress and Miranda pushed her hand further up my thigh. I fought
her off. “Don’t be so stupid!” I snapped. I turned the car into the school
drive. For once the sight of the school caretaker was a pleasant one.
The
atmosphere in the car changed from lighthearted banter into something
approaching anger. “The next time!” Swore Miranda as she and Tabatha climbed
from the vehicle.
I resisted any further comments. It wasn’t professional
for a teacher and pupil to have a slagging match, no matter what the cause. It
did leave the tricky problem of how to cope with Miranda’s fantasies and I had
to assume, Tabatha’s. As I had no
solution I took the cowards option and kept out of their way over the next
couple of days. As a solution it couldn’t last.
On the third day they found me.
“There
you are!”
I had been lost in a book and hadn’t heard them approach.
Suddenly they were there, either side of me. We were in the school library. The
soundproofing had muffled their approach. Now I was rattled and felt trapped.
“You’ve
been avoiding us!” Miranda said nastily.
“’Course not!” I protested.
“’Course you were!” Miranda mimicked. She had her
hands on the back of my chair and was rocking it back and forth off its two
leading legs.
“Careful!” I snapped, grabbing for the desk as
support. As I reached for the edge Miranda gave one huge tug and I was tipping
backwards. I landed with a crash, banging my head against the carpeted floor.
Simply the fact the carpet was so thick probably prevented me from being
stunned. I was shocked and the breath had been knocked out of me.
I was still recovering my composure when both girls
fell upon me. I can’t describe it any other way. One moment I was happily
reading and the next I was struggling beneath the combined weight and strength
of two health and angry teenagers. It
wasn’t an even contest. In a matter of seconds I was pinned beneath the two of
them. Miranda was sitting on my stomach, her hands pressing down on mine.
Tabatha was sitting across my thighs. I tried to wriggle, twist, to throw them
off me. I couldn’t. An one hundred and ten pound woman can’t dislodge two
others.
“Alright
girls, let me up. A joke is joke, but let me up!” I gasped.
“What joke.” Laughed Miranda. She slid further up
my body, until her knee’s pinned my shoulders. She had my hands pinned above my
head. Try as I might I could get no leverage. “You should have accepted our
offer, now we’ll have to take what we want.”
I felt
an icy chill run into my stomach. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” Mimicked Tabatha. “Tell her,
tell the snooty bitch!” She urged Miranda.
As if in answer Miranda smirked. “We wanted you to
join our little game, but you turned us down. You should have yes, now we’ll
have to persuade you.”
“What? Just let me up! I won’t say anything. I’ll
treat this as a harmless prank.” I struggled again. It was useless. I’d only
get up when they let me. I gave up struggling.
“Do
that again and you’ll get a smack.” Miranda threatened.
I still didn’t believe her but I had stopped
fighting. It was useless. I couldn’t shift the two of them.
Miranda obviously misinterpreted my actions. I felt
her relax. “Better, much better. Now all you have to do is lick our pussies and
we’ll call it quits.”
I was speechless. I just stared open mouthed into
Miranda’s face. “No way.” I gasped at last. “No chance.”
The look on Miranda’s face was one of pure delight.
She even let out a triumphant whoop. “I knew you’d say that.” Gloated Miranda.
“It just means we’ll have even more fun before you eat my cunt.”
“No
way!” I repeated.
Miranda wasn’t listening. She inched a little
further forwards, resting her arse upon my chest, her knees were level with my
head, and her thighs tunnelled my vision towards her crotch. Miranda was
wearing a short skirt and I had a perfect view of her pants.
“Yes you will.” Miranda retorted. “When we have
finished with you, you’ll think that licking our cunts is a pleasure and you’ll
be doing anything and everything we say.” She sounded so confident. It was
chilling.
“No!” I whispered. I was now very frightened. I
realised that I was alone in the House with two nasty, dominant girls. There
was no one to overhear us, no one to rescue me. They had days and days to break
me.
“First I’ll sit on your face. I’ll keep doing it
until you pass out or until you agree. If you pass out then we’ll start again,
and again, and again. It won’t matter how often you faint. I won’t get tired of
this game, but you will.” Miranda announced. “I get a real charge out of this.
I really want to you to fight me, it makes the moment when you give in all the
sweeter.”
“No!” I
pleaded. “Just let me get up, please!” I was almost begging. I was starting to
panic. The threats sounded so real. I didn’t doubt for one minute that Miranda
meant them.
“No chance. If we like you, then we’ll make you
into the head girl’s slave, that’s quite an honour. It usually goes to one of
the girls, but I think you’ll be perfect, and I have never fucked a teacher.”
She slid across my face, her crotch hovering a bare inch from my mouth. I could
smell her very clear arousal. She was getting off on what she was doing.
“Plea….” I began but Miranda stuffed out my
pleadings. She sank down onto my face, covering my mouth and nose with her
crotch. I tried to breath but could only draw in the faintest gasp of air,
saturated in the heavy, stinky smell of her sex.
“Well?”
She demanded. I could just see her cold, cruel smile and those unblinking deep
green eyes. “No?” I couldn’t reply. I was trapped beneath her and Tabatha, my
mouth gagged by the most disgusting gag in history. Slowly she began to rub
herself across my face, grinding her crotch down hard against me. It made
breathing impossible and struggle, as much as I did, I was truly helpless. I
could only lie there, sucking in the penny packets of air that Miranda’s
movements accidentally allowed me.
Miranda
really began to rub her mound in my face as she settled into a smooth rhythm,
using my nose to get to herself off. It was like she had no thought for my
safety as she sat there atop me, using me. Soon I could feel her wetness
soaking through the crotch of her pants. I’d have gagged if she had given me
the chance.
"Take
a breath, that's all you'll get." She told me, lifting her up for the
briefest moment, I gasped in the almost fresh air, almost grateful to her, before
she sat back down on my face.
She
continued like that for a while, masturbating on my face until I almost passed
out, and then letting me catch a breath before continuing. I was getting weaker
and weaker from the lack of oxygen as she all the while kept rubbing herself
into my face.
I
was almost asphyxiated, each breath was shorter, the time between each breath
grew longer, and finally I felt my consciousness begin to slip away. Once, just
once, Miranda pulled me back from the brink of unconsciousness. “We’ll play
this game again.” She whispered and then sank down onto my abused face, staying
there until my consciousness finally did flee.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
I
don’t know to this day how long I was unconscious. When I did finally recover I
was no longer in the library. I was in a bedroom; least ways I thought it was a
bedroom. I was lying on the floor, a thin carpet little protection from the
hard wooden floor which lay beneath me. I tried to rise but I felt so weak that
I could barely raise my head, then I realised that my hands were tied. Wearily
I raised my arms to study the strong, seemingly unbreakable knot. I needed to
rise, as I moved my feet I realised that they to were bound. I struggled to
raise myself and it was only then that I realised that not only was I bound but
also naked. I groaned softly and sank back onto the floor. I needed to think,
but first I needed to recover my senses and strength before Miranda and Tabatha
returned.
I
never had the chance. Almost immediately the door swung open and my twin
tormentors appeared. Instinctively I tried to wriggle away from them though in
truth I had nowhere to go and no chance of escaping them.
Tabatha
caught me, pushing my shoulders back against the carpet and straddling me just
as Miranda had done. She wasted no time in sinking her knickered crotch onto my
face. She said nothing, simply drove herself mound hard into my face, smearing
herself across me, relentlessly and mercilessly riding my helpless features as
she sought her personal climax. I could do nothing to prevent Tabatha using me
as a living dildo.
Tabatha
came. I felt her climax. I felt the tightening of her limbs, and then the final
uncoordinated jerks as her climax deprived her of self-control. I felt her
climax juices soaking through her already damp crotch. She collapsed without
ever freeing my from my stinking, heavy, air denying imprisonment. I was close
to suffocation before she rolled away, leaving me gasping for air.
Miranda
was sitting on the bed. I didn’t notice her at first. I was just glad that I no
longer had Tabatha’s sweaty crotch across my face. I pulled in a great lungful
of air.
“Ready
yet?” Miranda slid of the bed and stood over me. I cringed. I could guess what
was coming. I couldn’t answer. I desperately didn’t want her across my face,
the lack of air, the almost certainty that she would bring herself off on me. I
didn’t want any of that but the prospect of even kissing another woman’s sex
almost made me vomit. “I thought not.” She dropped to her knee’s, stroking my
short damp hair. She was kneeling behind me and I had to twist to look her in
the face. “It’s only a matter of time. So why not get it over with. The first
time is always the worst. After a few time’s you’ll think that sucking my twat
is the natural order.” She moved forwards. I stared up into her damp, stained
crotch. “People say that my ass is my best feature.” Miranda laughed. She sat
down hard, engulfing my mouth and nose, the latter was rammed up her arse, and
only her knickers prevented it touching her anus.
She
started to ride me, slowly, always knowing how long she could keep me without
air. Then just when I thought I’d pass out again she’d stop, allow me a
mouthful of air. It was a torture, a slow, deliberate torture designed to drive
me to the edge of desperation, designed to break my will.
As
she rode and tortured me I realised that she was frigging herself. I just
wanted her to come; I desperately wanted her to climax. It was the only escape
route I had. I prayed as much as my mangled senses would allow. I wanted this
all to finish, for me to wake up in my clean solitary bed and find that this
was just a strange, perverted nightmare. The alternative was to chilling to
contemplate.
Miranda
came, just like Tabatha had before her, Miranda ground her sex soaked crotch,
driving the last breath from my tortured lungs. She didn’t release me. I saw
stars again and once more I slipped into unconsciousness beneath Miranda
totally merciless arse.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
When
I came to it was as if nothing had ever happened. I was sitting at my table in
the library. I was dressed, the room was tidy and there was no sign of either
Miranda or Tabatha. At first I thought that I must have fallen asleep, but I
ached both in my body and head. I felt sick, not nauseous, but sick with
embarrassment. I felt weak; I knew that I was weak. I remembered in brief
flashbacks what had happened. The chair, the, the face sitting? Where had I
heard that? Had I really been naked in a girl’s bedroom, had they really used
me like some lump of meat? I found myself rubbing my wrists; the mark of the
bonds was still there, an angry, red ring that no amount of rubbing could
remove. It had seemed so real!
I
was just ready to convince myself that it really was a dream when the door to
the library swung open and my two tormentors marched in. I was still as weak as
the proverbial kitten and could never have outrun them.
“I
thought we’d start again.” Miranda began. She stopped a metre from me, her
hands resting on her hips. Miranda looked superb, confident and utterly,
utterly in control. Tabatha stood a little ways off, a smirking grin across her
features. She was here to watch. “Get down on your knee’s.” Miranda pointed to
a spot at her feet.
I
felt my mouth dry and my stomach churn. I knew now what she was doing. She had
brought me back here, to the library, where it had all started. It was all mind
games. If I didn’t obey then it would all start again. Slowly I got to my feet,
my legs were trembling, both with fear and the oxygen deprivation that they had
taken me through. They both watched me, waiting to see which way I jumped.
Would I continue to resist, even if the outcome was inevitable? It was simply a
case of how much more torture I could take. I sank to my knee’s, head bowed,
not just in submission but because I couldn’t look Miranda in the face.
“Look at me!” She insisted. I tried. I really tried
but I wasn’t fast enough. “Get her down.” Miranda ordered Tabatha. Before I
could react I was being pulled backwards and Tabatha was already astride my
face. I just had time for one last gasp of air before her arse descended onto
my face. This time Tabatha made no attempt to bring herself off, her mission
was a simple one. She would ground her arse and cunt into my face until I
submitted or passed out. “You really are a stupid cunt.” Gloated Miranda. “I
have dreamed of fucking your face and now I have, next you’re going to suck on
my cunt, so why fight me. Just give in. it’s that easy.” She was kneeling
besides me. I couldn’t turn my head, imprisoned as it was between Tabatha’s
legs and pinned beneath her arse. I swivelled my eyes to look into Miranda
cool, smug face. She was so sure of her, so sure of the eventual outcome.
Miranda took my hand. I was a weak as a baby. “When you want to suck our cunts
just squeeze my hand.”
I felt Tabatha shift her position. She moved just
enough to allow me to snatch a mouthful of air. Then she farted, loudly and
then sat back down on me. She farted again. This time I felt as well as smelt
the fart. I didn’t have the strength to even offer a token of resistance. I lay
there, my nose buried up Tabatha stinking backside whilst Miranda whooped and
yelled her satisfaction.
“Deep breaths teach.” Miranda laughed. “Way to go
Tab’s.” She laughed. “Do her again!”
She
did. I couldn’t take any more. I squeezed Miranda’s hand. Nothing happened. I
was still pinned beneath Tabatha’s utterly merciless behind. All I could smell
was her, all I could see her bum cheeks and the back. I squeezed Miranda’s hand
again and again.
“Get
off her.” Miranda ordered. The triumph in her voice was all too apparent.
Tabatha didn’t argue and I was simply grateful for
the relief. I drew in one great lungful after another. I was too weakened to
move and they knew it. As Tabatha rolled me Miranda calmly replaced her. It was
like one of those crazy American wrestling matches when two fighters take it in
turn beating up on another. This time she was facing me and I found my face
rammed up against her crotch. I could smell her, strong, aroused scents that
dominated my senses.
“You will do everything that I say.” She began.
“First of all you will address me as Mistress and only when I ask you a direct
question. Is that understood?”
“Yes …
Mistress.” I mumbled. It was such a humiliating thing to say.
“Say it
again.” Miranda gloated. “This time, try and make it a complete sentence.”
“Yes
Mistress.” I repeated.
“Better,
but this time loud enough for Tabatha to hear.”
I cleared my throat. It was dry and felt
constricted. “Yes Mistress.” I said, as loudly as I could manage.
Miranda laughed. It was an evil, self-centred laugh
of triumph. “That is better. I always knew you’d make a good slave. It’s just a
matter of understanding that I am your better; you’re superior.” She pushed
forwards so that she was sitting across my mouth with my nose pressed against
her mound. “Sniff. I want to hear you sniffing my cunt.”
I did so I felt that I had no choice. It was easier
to give in than to fight. It was humiliating but it couldn’t last. Soon I would
be free and then I could flea this rat hole and its strange, kinky women. I
sniffed her, drinking in her musky, hot stink, the stench of her cunt.
“Well done!! You learn quickly.” She turned to
Tabatha. “Get the gear. Our little slave is ready for her next lesson.”
Tabatha bound my wrists whilst Miranda sat across
my face, then Miranda rolled off me. It still felt as if she was still sitting
on me. I just lay there, waiting for my orders. Tabatha threw a two-inch wide
belt to me. “Put that around your neck.” She commanded. I just looked at it
before the truth hit me. It was a collar. Dumbly I did as I was told. “Good
girl.” Tabatha laughed. “Now stand up.”
I had difficulty doing that. I found that my legs
were as weak as a baby. I struggle to me feet. They made no efforts to help:
simply standing by and watching my struggles. When I eventually succeeded
Tabatha clipped a long lead to the collar. She led me through the school with
Miranda in the rear. They led me onto the main school courtyard. It was empty
of course. Nevertheless it was still scary being bound and lead outside the
secure confides of the library. They stopped me in the centre of the yard.
Miranda unfastened my wrists although Tabatha get her grip on the lead.
“You’re
overdressed.” Miranda announced. “Take your clothes off!”
I gaped. It was the wrong move. Miranda slapped me
hard, on the cheek. I cried out and reached out to protect myself. Tabatha
tugged on the lead, the collar bit into my throat. I was thrown backwards and
could do nothing to protect myself from the barrage of blows, which Miranda
rained down on me. Eventually I sank to my knee’s pleading for her to stop.
“You
know what to do.” Gasped Miranda. “Just get on with it.”
So I undressed in the school courtyard, every
thread of clothing, until I was naked before them. I felt utterly humiliated.
They were piling humiliation upon humiliation.
“Stand
up.” Miranda ordered.
I did so, painfully aware of how absurd this all
was. I could feel my face tingling from her blows but didn’t dare reach up and
touch the sore spots.
“This way!” Tabatha tugged on my lease. I stumbled
as I followed her, drawing a kick from Miranda into my ribs. “Move cunt!”
Snarled Tabatha. I did so, as quickly as I could manage.
They left me tied to the schools flag pole, in the
middle of the court yard, the belt wrapped around the pole so tight that I
could hardly breath, they bound my hands and ankles just as tight. I was truly
helpless. I couldn’t even turn my head.
“We’ll be back.” Whispered Miranda. She was
stroking my naked body, breasts, neck, and belly, even as far as my pubic hair.
“Enjoying that, like me touching your nipples?” She pinched the nipples. I moaned
softly. She pinched them again, this time harder and longer, until I cried out
for her to stop. She didn’t. “What’s the word cunt?”
“Mistress.” I gasped. “Stop, please, Mistress.” The
pain lessened. I thought my nipples had been torn from my tits. I thought that
she’d torn them from my tits.
“We’ll be back. Just be ready to please us.”
Miranda hissed into my ear. She gave my nipples a final twist, which drew tears
from my eyes.
They left me. I had no idea for how long, time was
meaningless. I realised that I didn’t know how long I’d been out there. I could
only guess from the height of the sun that it was late afternoon. It wasn’t
exactly hot and gradually I started to shiver, the sun sunk lower and lost even
more of its heat. I was becoming genuinely cold and lethargy and tiredness
swept over me. Ridiculous as it sounds I started to doze, my body shivering
beyond my control. Finally it started to rain, not hard, but persistently,
soaking my already cold body. I began to cry, both out of pity for myself and
for the fear of what was to come. Miranda was right. I was ready to do anything
to cease this torture, and still they didn’t come to my rescue.
The rain ceased, the sun dropped below my horizon
and all warmth left the air. I was genuinely cold. I just shivered and
shivered, praying now for their reappearance.
“Ready
to lick my cunt?”
I hadn’t heard Miranda approach. I looked up
through my sodden hair. I shivered as I spoke, my voice breaking up with the
cold. “Yes Mistress.” I managed to whisper.
Tabatha
was nowhere to be seen. Miranda untied me and finally released the belt. I sank
to knees; all the strength had left me. Miranda left me to recover. “My room,
don’t bother to dress.” She began walking away from me. I found that I couldn’t
get to my feet; the cold had swept away the last of my strength. “Crawl!”
Miranda ordered.
I did so. On my hands and knee’s I crawled slowly
across the courtyard, over the damp grass and into the warm dry confines of
Nightingale House. Miranda had returned and clipped the lead back onto my
collar. She led me like a dog. The symbolism obvious even to myself in my
desperate befuddled condition.
…………………………………………………………………………………………….
Inside her rooms it felt deliciously warm and dry.
I wanted to curl up like the simple animal I was, just dry out and feel the
heat soak back into my body. Tabatha wasn’t anywhere to be seen but I was
beaten and no threat to Miranda. She could do what she wanted and when. I would
do nothing to resist her.
Miranda left me to recover. I was no used to her in
my present condition. I hear pop music but couldn’t focus on the sound. I lay
on the floor and shivered, slowly feeling the warmth creep back into my limbs.
I wasn’t bound or even restrained. I was too weak to go anywhere. I lay in a
huddle, my senses to weak. I heard the door open and slowly I turned towards
the sound. Miranda was standing there, her arms on her hips. She was naked. I
stared. She looked magnificent, toned, trim, firm breasted and totally, totally
confident.
“On your back.” She ordered. She crossed towards
me, standing over my naked body. I obeyed. She was my mistress and I had to do
what she ordered. “Good cunt.” Miranda sat on my chest. I could feel how warm
she was compared with me. I could also feel how damp her cunt already was.
“Want are you going to do?” She asked.
“What ever you want Mistress.” I was beat. I knew
it. Miranda knew it. I hadn’t the strength to fight any longer.
“Link my cunt.” She slid across my face. I stared up
at the pink slash of her sex. I opened my mouth and dipped my tongue into her
oily, drippy hole. It felt and tasted disgusting but I knew that I had no
choice. I had to please her. Miranda told me what to do, what pleased her,
where she wanted my tongue. Like the slave that I was I followed her every
instruction. She came. I was almost pleased as Miranda sat down on my face as
her climax swept through her, splattering across my face. She held me there,
trapped between her legs, beneath her arse and cunt, whilst she recovered her
breath. “Again.” She commanded and I obeyed. This time Miranda hardly told me
what to do. I licked, slurped and teased her clitoris, her cunt, drinking in
her juices. This time when she came Miranda made no attempt not to suffocate
me. She mashed down on me, intent only in her own pleasure. I was practically
out before Miranda eventually dismounted. She left me gasping on the floor, my
body wracked with the pain that comes from suffocation. “I won’t be back before
morning. I have a date, that’s something you’ll never experience again. If
Tabatha visits, you are to treat her as your Mistress. Understand, cunt!”
“Yes Mistress.” I gasped.
“Good. You will stay in my rooms until I return.”
I watched her dress. Miranda acted as if I wasn’t
even in the room and I started to realise that in her world I was little more
than an object, little more that the table she ate her meals off, or the chair
she sat upon. Only when she was about to leave did she look in my direction.
“Clean yourself up.”
“Yes Mistress.” I got to my feet and hurried to
obey, heading into Miranda’s small bathroom to wash my face.
In the time that took Miranda had left and Tabatha
was sitting crossed legged upon Miranda’s bed. She must have been waiting
outside the rooms. I was immediately nervous. I had no idea as to the etiquette
that existed between a Mistress and a slave.
“You have a problem?” Tabatha asked.
“What can I do for you Mistress?” I managed to
stammer.
“Please me.” Tabatha answered.
“How Mistress?” I asked as meekly as I could
muster.
“Better, get on your knee’s.” Tabatha pointed to a
spot immediately before her. I dropped to my knees. “Crawl.” She commanded. I
did so. Tabatha slid to the edge of the bed and I found myself crawling up an
artificial valley made of her stockinged legs. “Now show me what you have
learnt!” Tabatha opened her legs wider and I stared into the pink slash of her
sex. “Get on with it.” She demanded and pulled my face into her cunt.
It was only the beginning. Tabatha seemed determined
to test my strength and resilience, before she had even climaxed I was pinned
beneath her, struggling for breath whilst trying desperately to please her. I
lost track of the times I made her come. She seemed utterly inexhaustible and
utterly insatiable. I licked and sucked and swallowed, hoping that each climax
I induced might finally be the last.
She farted and I was made to sniff at her gas,
which seemed to amuse her. She laughed as I held my face into her ass as she
farted. At last she mashed down hard onto my face, trapping me and depriving me
off air. I knew what was coming and I tried not to fight, but being suffocated
is a very scary event. I drifted into an unconsciousness that was almost a
relief.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
When I came to Miranda had returned. She was
talking quietly to Tabatha and at first they didn’t notice me but then Tabatha
gestured in my direction. Miranda turned and almost smiled, but there was no
warmth. “Sleep well cunt?”
“Yes Mistress.” It was hardly sleep but I felt a
little better, stiff and bursting for the toilet. “Please.” I whispered. “I
need the bathroom.”
I swear that Miranda smiled. “Five minutes, and
clean yourself up. You look like shit.”
I scrambled to obey, partly to relieve myself but
also out of the fear that Miranda might change her mind. I was out of the
bathroom in less than three minutes. I counted each and every second.
“Now get down on your knee’s.” Miranda commanded.
I did as I was told.
“Tabatha tells me how hard you worked to please
her. Very good, I expect my slaves to be obedient and hard working. I have
something’s to explain to you. They really are quite simple, even for someone
as thick and stupid as you.” She stopped.
“Yes Mistress.” I answered.
“Good. Understand this. No, first, get on your
back!” Miranda stood up as I scrambled to obey. I lay down as Miranda once
again straddled my face. She was still wearing the black panties she’d worn the
previous night, so I knew that I wasn’t expected to tongue fuck her. I guessed
what she was about to do a few second before she did it. Miranda farted into my
face, a long, belching, stinking fart that seemed to last for ever. I heard
Tabatha scream with laughter. “Deep breaths cunt.” Miranda ordered and I did as
I was told. Miranda stared down into my face. “As I was saying, before I was
interrupted, you will be my slave from now until I leave. You will obey my
every command, pander to my every desire. Is that understood?”
“Yes Mistress.” I answered submissively.
“You have become the head girls personal slave,
that is an honour. If you please me then I’ll pass you onto the next head girl
when I leave. Just so you know, that’s to be Tabatha.”
She farted again and this time without bidding I
began to sniff her stink.
“Very good. I always thought you would be a fast
learner.” She smiled down at me. “Still you still have plenty to learn.” She
stood up and stepped out of her panties. “First lesson is how to clean your
Mistresses cunt.” She sat back on my chest and then slid forwards. “I spent the
night being royally shagged, my cunt still carries the evidence. Your job is to
lick the cum, his and mine, from my fanny.” She slid her cunt over my face and
I began to suck and lick her. “Yes!” she breathed. ”You do learn quickly.”
By the time that the school reopened I was utterly,
utterly, utterly under Miranda’s dominance. She had used me, as her personal
slave, even down to the bathroom. I had lost track of the number of time’s
either she or Tabatha had straddled my face. Miranda was right. It seemed that
the natural state of affairs was for me to be licking her pussy.