Black Girls Can't Be Cheerleaders Ch. 04

But as she removed her bra, she found herself doing just that. She was possibly throwing away everything. But she didn't care. She wanted, needed one of her students to finally stand up to dominate her, to humiliate her, to treat her like dirt. The fact that it was her most miss- behaved student was the clincher.

As one side of her mind reasoned with the stupidity of her actions, the other side begged to fully submit to the black girl. To completely undress before her student and get spanked in that most painful and humiliating of womanly places. Yes she needed this, wanted this.

Her panties pooled around her ankles as she stepped out of them. Only her high heels remained on, which is just how Brandy wanted it.

Brandy came around to the front of her now naked, submissive teacher. She studied the naked, submissive form. Brandy couldn't believe her luck. A moment ago she thought she'd be stuck serving a stupid detention for the bitch. She could never have dreamed she'd now be standing authoritatively before her naked teacher, about to be punishing her instead. But where to punish?

Reaching out, she began playing with her teacher's breasts, admiring the full, mature mounds. Marsha let out a low moan as she arched her chest out to her clack student. Brandy smiled at the offering, pinching an excited nipple as she spoke, "Where should my goody goody teacher like to get her spanking?"

Marsha face was now flushing red with desire as Brandy continued fondling her breasts.

Brandy moved her other hand to Mrs Clarks ass "Is this where you want it? Is this where you want your bad student to punish you?"

The teacher sighed, but gently shook her head no.

Brandy then twisted both nipples hard "How about here Mrs Clark? Do you want me to punish these?"

Marsha gasped in pain, but still shook her head no.

Brandy began moving her hands down, past her teacher's full breasts, over her stomach, and eventually between her teacher's parted legs. Brandy gave a little rub. Mrs Clark breathed deeply as she spread her legs further.

"Hmmmm, so wet. The perfect place for a spanking. Do you want it here Mrs Clark? Is this where good teacher's get spanked?"

Marsha moaned louder as Brandy gave her clit a pinch.

"But I'm such a bad student and your a good teacher. How could you allow a bad student to spank your pussy?

Marsha's eyes closed shut as she gave out a desperate whine.

"Do good teachers deserve to get there pussies spanked by their bad students?"

Miss Simons wanted to cover her ears before she could hear Mrs Clark's response, but she was too late.

"Yesssssss!!!!!!"

Miss Simons ran out of the classroom as fast as she could. She no longer could watch the horrific display. It was almost as bad as the party at Trish's house. At least there Miss Simons had no respect for the white women being humiliated. But here, the last image Miss Simons saw before running out was of the woman she so highly respected standing naked, open mouthed, eyes closed, legs spread, and pussy vulnerable, displayed as an offering to Brandy's hand.

......

She couldn't avoid hearing the distinctive slap, as well as the cry of pleasure emanating from none other than Mrs Clark.

She tried to cover her ears as she ran, but still heard the beginning of countless spanks raining down on the teacher's sex.

By the time she had made it down stairs and back to the lockers, she was completely out of breath and in a daze.

With out paying any attention to any one or any thing, she immediately she ran into the office, slammed the door, threw her head on the desk and cried like she never cried before.

It had been true, all of it. White women were indeed submissive to black women. There was no reason to deny it any further. Her last ray of hope had been Mrs Clark. A responsible, respected, even feared white teacher.

But the moment Trish worked her magic, she was nothing but a submissive white pig. Now she was upstairs, getting her pale pussy spanked by her student's black hand. A shiver ran up the spine of the coach as she thought of Marsha's now humiliating position, probably begging for more.

After a few minutes of crying, Miss Simons felt a hand gently touching her back. Looking up, it was Trish. The coach had failed to notice the young girl entering the office. Trish had a look of victory in her eyes, yet didn't say anything.

Miss Simons knew there was nothing negative she could say to the black girl. Trish had been right about Mrs Clark. Right about all of it. She knew exactly what the teacher's fantasies were, and made them a reality.

Miss Simons immediately threw her arms around Trish and hugged her tight. What else could she do? She no longer could deny the natural power she held over her. At one point in her life, not too long ago, she would have been sick to her stomach at the possibility. Yet now, as she lowered to her knees and kissed Trish's shoes for forgiveness, she accepted her place as a white woman.

---

You wouldn't know it by watching them that anything was odd. For an outsider, all they would have seen were cute teenage girls jumping and twirling. All they would have watched where girls of innocence.

They wouldn't even have noticed the one particular one who was older than the rest. They would never have known she was actually an adult and not a cheerleader. No one would have even paid a second thought to the crazy idea that she, like all the other white females, had something missing underneath their skimpy little cheerleading skirts.

Trish surveyed her cheering group of girls. Despite the treatment of the white girls of the group, this was cheerleading practice after all, and she wanted to take it seriously. Being in charge of the squad had its advantages and disadvantages. For one, you made all the rules. If you wanted your white girls to not wear panties, then your white girls didn't wear panties. If you wanted your fellow black cheerleaders to have first rights to towels after a shower, than your fellow black cheerleaders got first rights to towels.

But there were disadvantages to. For one, you had to work your girls hard, regardless of the color. If you wanted to win tournaments and respect from other schools, you had to earn it. And that would not come from foot messages and white toy parties.

So Trish did just that, working her girls hard all through practices. Trish made sure she taught each girl how to jump higher, run faster, and cheer louder. This wasn't a game to the young black vixen. Those games would come later with her pets Amber and Miss Simons. But here, she needed to focus.

Trish was actually glad she had settled her momentary butting of the heads with her former coach. Until then she had so wanted her white pet to challenge her. It only made it more enjoyable watching her submit all over again. But this time was a little different. For the first time she felt unsure of herself her coach confronted her.

True she got an enormous rush bringing down yet another hapless white teacher, but it still created a sense of fear in her that she might not win this time. That natural dominance would not rule the day after all. It was the first time she felt unsure of herself since she had been a child, watching her own mother humble a former teacher.

That day she was shocked to hear her mother talk the way she did to her white teacher. Trish had even expected the teacher to punish both mother and daughter for daring to disrespect her. But it was mommy doing the punishing that day with the teacher's own paddle, and daughter getting her cunt licked.

Back then she had no idea of the power of natural dominance, where white women feel the need to submit to their superior black counterparts. But as Mrs Clark stood before her, barking at her to leave, for that brief moment she questioned her dominance.

But it was all for not. Like all good white girls before, Miss Clark or Marsha as Brandy now calls her, quickly put Miss Simons to shame when she practically begged her black student to spank her pussy. Not even Trish could have hoped for things to turn out so well.

But they had turned out very well indeed. Even so, Trish still remembered the lingering fear of doubt that had creped into her mind, and all she knew was that she didn't want to feel it ever again.

Over the next two weeks the Dalefield High football team played their games away, leaving the squad plenty of time to practice, and practice they did. Cheers, jumps, swirls. All done to perfection. But talent is only half the show. Trish knew what really brought fans to the stands.

Almost every cheer was deliberately designed to display the white girls "assets" to the fullest, much to the silent disapproval of Miss Simons. There wasn't a single cheer that didn't have a white girl's skirt flying up in some manner, either by jumping high, or bending over to touch their toes. Rest assured Trish made sure there was plenty of pink showing at all times.

Some of the "special" cheers were even designed for Miss Simons herself. She knew she'd just die when it came time to do them for real.

The absolute worst part of every practice was their daily runs. After every practice, Trish would have all the girls do a hard vigorous run, leaving all of them desperately heaving for breath. Trish liked her girls to have strong, athletic legs.

Though not as bad as the dreaded "Lap Run", it was still a grueling run none the less. And poor Miss Simons had no luck with this activity. Besides the little matter of running in an outfit designed for a 14 year old girl, it was clear she wasn't as physically fit as the rest of the girls. True she was getting better overall every practice, but she still looked foolish trying to act the part of a teenager. The girls (black or white) would laugh at her endlessly as she did her best to coordinate her heavier middle aged body to the cheers. Girls can be so cruel.

Often she found herself wanting to run off in tears, but never, ever thought about quitting. She wanted to be Trish's white cheerleader no matter how hard it all was for her.

And hard it was. The runs were sheer murder to her. Of course she would always be last, and her large bouncing breast never failed to pop out of the small top at least six different times during a run. Despite her sore boobs, she absolutely detested the way the other cheerleaders who finished ahead of her still get their kicks out of swatting her chubby cheeks red. It made the run all the more difficult.

After practices nothing much had changed. In the showers, white girls paired off with black girls, where they gingerly washed and cleaned their black bodies. Despite her better efforts to pair with Trish, Miss Simons still found herself stuck with little Sasha, the young black girl.

She so envied Amber for her heavenly task. She so wanted to replace the blonde cheerleader, to be the one kneeling before Trish's well toned dark body and wash its every curve. But Sasha made sure the older coach was her's during shower time.

Miss Simons really didn't mind cleaning Sasha's body. Though not as physically appealing as Trish's, the young girl still attractive. Cleaning her always got the former coach a little excited. If it weren't for the fact that she was getting wet from the showers themselves, she just knew her pussy would be all wet on its own.

It wasn't long before the coach was actually enjoying her moments with the young cheerleader. She looked forward to washing the strong legs, as all black girls have, and felt her most submissive when gingerly cleaning the blackened inner folds of the girl's sex. Sasha for her part felt her most dominating at these moments. She so enjoyed spreading her legs before her former kneeling coach and feeling her fingers manipulate her labia with her fingers and a wash cloth. Despite the obvious stimulation, the whole thing was just so erotic.

Yet these showers were less than totally satisfying for the horny black girl. There wasn't a shower that went by where Sasha didn't encourage her coach's tongue to be part of the cleaning process. If it wasn't for Trish's constant disapproval of sex in the showers, Sasha would have her coach's white face buried between her legs in no time.

But Sasha could only be frustrated for so long. One day after the showers, as Miss Simons dutifully waited on the floor for her turn at the wet towels, Sasha made her move. One by one, as white girls sitting around her got their used towels, Miss Simons remained on the floor waiting. Sasha had by now gotten dressed in her regular cloths, yet still curiously held on to the towels.

The former coach wanted to say something at first, but quickly knew better than to ask a black girl for anything, let alone the right to a towel. So shivering naked on the cold floor, she patiently waited until all but the two of them were left alone in the locker room.

By now Miss Simons was getting more than worried. What was Sasha going with this? Her question would soon be answered.

"Ohhh, Miss Simons your still all wet. Did I forget to give you something?"

"Ummmm.....Yes Sasha. The towels, may I please have them?"

"No I don't think so. You haven't earned them as far as I'm concerned."

Miss Simons was very nervous. She needed the towels to dry off. She couldn't very well dress while she was still wet and her hair would never dry properly on its own. What did this girl want?

"Earn it? What do you mean?"

"I think you know very well what I mean." With a cute little smile, Sasha gently lifted her skirt, revealing long dark legs and no panties. She sat on the edge of the changing bench and spread her thighs with a smile.

Miss Simon's eyes widened at this latest display of brazen female domination. She never got used to these black women treating her like a white plaything, and here again she was staring deeply into the darkness of a black girl's sex.

The coach wanted to tear her eyes away, to rise from the floor and say no to the young cheerleader! She could even walk over to the towel bin, where 20 or so used towels rested. But she couldn't. It was one of Trish's rules, she had to wait for Sasha's towels.

Grabbing a handful of her hair, Sasha pulled the unsure kneeling woman towards her inner thighs. Miss Simons did nothing to stop her. As she got closer, she could only stare at the teen's pussy, both fearing and admiring how powerful it looked. When her face was only inches from its intended goal, Sasha held her coach's face still.

"Smell me Miss Simons. Smell my pussy. Tell me how much you enjoy it!"

Miss Simons did as her younger mistress ordered and breathed through her nose. She had intended to only take a quick smell, but the moment the scent tickled her nose, instinctively she closed her eyes and took a deeper breath. She couldn't help herself, it was just so intoxicating. Now that the pussy had been freshly cleaned by her own hands, there was nothing to hinder the pure smell of the black girls sex.

How unfair this all was. No woman should have to smell the scent of another. It meant that one girl was dominant over another. It meant that Sasha's black cunt was superior to her own.

At the possibility of this the older woman's vagina tingled. Could it be true? Could her white cunt be inferior to a black girl half her age? As her lungs filled with Sasha's smell, she admitted to herself that it was true. Sasha's cunt was superior to her own. Why else would Miss Simons be the one kneeling between the girl's thighs instead of the other way around? Despite her mixed emotional feelings, both her cunt and mouth began to water as she inhaled yet another deep breath of the intoxicating perfume. Opening her eyes, she again stared at the object of her superiority.

"How does it smell coach?"

"Wonderful" Spoke the coach breathlessly, unable to hide the husk in her voice.

Satisfied with her pet's response, Sasha resumed leading her coach's face closer until her lips were just touching the young girl's pussy, close enough for her tongue to do its damage. But Miss Simons held still, knowing quite well what Trish had once told her. That she had to wait for permission before eating a black girl's pussy.

Within the moment, that order was given.

"You may worship my cunt coach!"

But she still hesitated. She knew this was all wrong. This was practically a girl she was kneeling before, and she was an adult and her former coach. How could she voluntarily do something like this? Even though her moist cunt and watering mouth seemingly begged to ravage the young girl, it was still wrong. She wouldn't do it. She couldn't. She won't!

Sasha was now getting frustrated watching the mental debating in her former coach's eyes. She hadn't come this far to only be denied. Her cunt needed a tongue bathing, and she was going to get it.

"Awwwwe, what's the matter coach? You don't like eating pussy?"

Miss Simons looked up and gently shook her head no. It was a lie. She so very much wanted to plant her mouth on those black lips. She just couldn't.

"But that's not what I was told. From what I heard, you just couldn't get enough of Amber's used cunt!"

Miss Simons' eyes widened and her jaw dropped. She knew! She knew what had happened at the party. But how?

"Trish told me all about how her brother and uncle filled Amber to the brim with cum, and how you sucked every bit of it back out. You nasty woman!"

The former coach blushed. Sasha was right. She had forgotten how nasty it all had been. She had blocked it all out. She didn't want to remember any of it, least of which her session with Amber. It had been so degrading.

Instantly the moment had come flooding back to her. She could see Amber walking back down the stairs with Trish's brother. Her cheerleading uniform partially torn, revealing a perfect white breast, her inner thighs covered in copious white liquid.

She remembered Trish's mother and the wonderful idea she had. The idea of both cheerleaders putting on a little show. Miss Simons could still see Amber laying down at the center of the watching circle. The way Amber's cunt looked as she slowly spread her legs. The way Miss Simons couldn't stop from staring at the nasty, well fucked cunt, much like she was now staring at the pristine cunt of Sasha's.

She remembered Trish guiding her head the rest of the way, soon mashing her face against the slick folds. Embarrassingly she recalled Trish removing her guiding hands, and watching with the rest as the coach now tentatively licked.

When she heard the first of Amber's many moans, something clicked inside her. As she began licking faster, she realized how utterly degraded she had become. Once a promising high school cheerleading coach, now she was on the floor surrounded by black women watching her orally clean her white cheerleader's used vagina.

Instantly she felt a trickle of juice run down her right thigh and gave out a low moan herself. Before she knew it, she was feverishly cleaning the white girl's cunt, causing Amber's moans of ecstasy to increased ten fold.

Suddenly she remembered Trish's whispers as she licked. Whispers of encouragement. Whispers to lick faster, deeper. Miss Simons knew what lay deeper inside Amber's cunt....male sperm.

While all the other black women watched, Miss Simons shamefully wallowed in complete depravity. Her face covered with male/female juices, stomach filling with sperm, everybody watching. She even remember the tickling feeling in her stomach as her skirt was raised over her backside, revealing to every one her wet inner thighs and sex, not to mention her round ass. She remember the way the cool air felt against her skin, moments before Trish's cruel hand did its work........

"OHHHHHH!!!!" Miss Simons was startled by the loud moan. At first she thought that it had been herself reacting to the imagined spankings from Trish. But as another moan cried from Sasha's lips, the source was unmistakable. Miss Simons was almost shocked to find herself in the mist of feverishly licking the black girls pussy.