Lesbian MILF Seductress: Secret Santa

As I exited into the aisle, my palms still tingling from the enthusiastic applause I'd offered up, an usher greeted me and said, "This way Mrs. Garceau, I shall escort you to Miss Rossi." I was led backstage to an empty dressing room, but after only a moment the young cellist appeared. She was a beautiful young lady, who carried herself with poise. "Good evening Miss Rossi. You look lovely, and your music tonight was so beautiful that I'm still walking on air."

"Please call me Kimberly, and may I please call you Yvette? You look ravishing yourself," she smiled genuinely.

We chatted for fifteen or twenty minutes about music including how Camille Saint-Saëns and Fritz Kreisler had belonged to an informal 'composers' club', the members of which wrote original music in the styles of other famous composers, then presented them to the world as 'newly discovered' works of those composers.

After winding down this highly entertaining conversation, Kimberly stood up and approached me. She ran her fingers through my hair and stroked my shoulders and upper back before startling me with, "I believe, Miss Garceau, you have something it is my task to retrieve."

I couldn't believe it! Was Kimberly the one behind the letters? She certainly possessed the intelligence and poise to pull it off. But while she certainly looked sensual enough, she didn't give off the air of supremacy of someone who believed herself to be a mistress; and before half an hour ago I had never met her, so why would she try to seduce me? Still, I had to ask. "Are you the mistress then?"

Kimberly gave a demure laugh and responded. "No, Yvette, we share a mistress, you and I. I've simply been instructed to retrieve the egg, then perform my service, and deliver further instructions to you."

"Well, then who is she?" I asked, as the elegantly dressed Kimberly dropped to her knees in front of me.

She reached her hands under my dress and stroked my thighs above the stockings, sending shivers through me, before she reached higher to remove my panties, and answered, "You'll receive no answers tonight, only service and further instructions. Kindly raise your derrière."

"Wh-what are you doing?" I asked, both shocked and undeniably horny.

"Mme. Garceau, how am I to remove the egg while you are wearing your panties? Obviously, I must remove them," she said, as if my question was silly. Mindlessly, I lifted my derrière and watched as another almost stranger touched me sexually as she slid my panties down my legs. As if entranced, I lifted first one ankle and then the other to allow her to complete the removal.

Reaching between my thighs, which were now trembling, she dragged her thumb up and down my opening before centering it on my clit. Did I just think the colloquial word 'clit?' What was happening to me? I'm an English teacher! As I struggled to retain my composure, she inserted her fingers into me and extracted the egg. I let out a loud moan as she fished around in my pussy before succeeding in removing it. I was both relieved but disappointed at its absence.

"Well, it's out now, what are my instructions?" I asked, strangely curious to know what was next, and desperate to connect a face with this Secret Santa.

"Patience, professor, first I have a service to perform for you," the pretty young lady answered, remaining on her knees.

Although I immediately envisioned the delightful prospect of her pleasuring me with her tongue, "What are you talking about? What service?" was all I managed to ask before I experienced a woman's tongue on my pussy for the first time. Had I just thought the word 'pussy'?

"Mon dieu," I moaned, reverting to my native tongue. I could not believe the sensation. She licked up and down my slit. I was now so past caring about propriety that I was thinking in vulgarities. I may have never had such thoughts before, but neither had I ever had a woman's tongue buried inside me.

"Do you like this, Yvette?" she asked me as she flicked that wonderful tongue over my clit.

"Oui, oui!" I responded.

Her mouth was the most incredible thing I had ever experienced. She sucked my cunt lips into her mouth individually. She would alternate licking up and down my pussy, and then plunge a stiff tongue into my opening. She would gently suck on my button, and then nibble it with her teeth. She even lifted my legs over her shoulders and moved that magical tongue to my anus. The act was both nasty and intimate, bawdy and delicate, boisterous and gentle. a contradiction in every way, and my body responded in the same contradictory ways. Although I was shocked, my body gave in without hesitation as my virgin back door was teased. Where had she learned these techniques? It was obvious she'd had much practice in these arts. She returned to my desperate cunt and as she used her tongue as a small cock, her finger teasing my rosebud. When she sensed my impending orgasm, she slipped a finger inside my ass and bit down on my clit. The result was earthshattering. My juice flowed from me and covered her face, running down her chin. Far from minding, she reveled in her liquid adornment!

As she slowed her licks to bring me down gradually, she looked up at me, her tongue moving only lazily now, and I noticed for the first time that she was, astoundingly, still wearing her concert dress. "I hope you enjoyed that, Yvette. It may be the last orgasm you have for a while. My instructions for you are this. I am to take the egg, and your panties, away with me. You are to wear your normal apparel of a skirt, a tight blouse and the Wolfords tomorrow, but no panties. In fact, unless you're given permission on specific occasions or during your monthly time of les règles, panties are no longer included in your attire. At 8:00 tomorrow night, you're to go to your classroom. I know it's a Saturday, but nevertheless that's what you must do. You will finally meet Mistress, and you will be pleased. Or perhaps more technically accurate, she will. I have greatly enjoyed making your acquaintance and for now, adieu to you." And with that, she exited the dressing room without another word, leaving me still coming with my legs spread open, like a well-used groupie after a rock concert.

It took me several minutes to recover. I could not have asked her anything during this time if I'd been given the opportunity, my mind closeted away from rational thought. That may have been the most wonderful experience I'd had in my life. I could certainly not remember ever coming like that, not even last night. My ex-husband, bastard though he was, had been an accomplished lover. But even he had no skills to rival this. I anxiously looked forward to meeting Mistress, if for no other reason than to thank her for this wonderful week, culminating in this most amazing orgasm. Little did I know the price for such attentions.

.....

At 7:55 the next day, I walked towards my classroom, dressed exactly as instructed, not wearing any panties, though that took quite some getting used to. I didn't try to arrive early to see who it would be, what point would there be in that now? I was about to meet her face to face.

As I entered my classroom, I noticed a feminine figure sitting atop my desk. The lights were out, so with only some indirect lighting from the hallway I could not make out who she was.

"Please come in Mrs. Garceau, and close the door," she ordered. Well, the voice wasn't Kimberly's, who I'd still thought it may be... but I did recognize it immediately... but it couldn't be her!

"Turn on the lights, Mrs. Garceau, but just the dim ones," she instructed. As I did so then turned back from the wall, I saw one of my freshman English students dangling her legs off my desk. Like I was, she was wearing a skirt and thigh highs.

"Bree Summers, is it you?" I gasped. The person who had first made face to face contact with me on behalf of her 'Mistress', thus eliminating her completely from being a suspect, was indeed who this was.

I had not expected her, and yet I should have. She always dressed sexy yet classy. Her attire was not the slutty fashion of so many women today. It did serve to show off her beautiful body, but it left the mystery intact by not openly displaying her wares. She sat in front of my class and asked questions with complete confidence, yet she was never rude in her approach. Yes, once I gave it some thought, it was eminently believable this young lady was the one. She undoubtedly had the elusive aura of a seductress.

"Your correct form of address will be 'Mistress Bree'," she replied firmly, confirming both the fact that she certainly was capable of being so, and that in fact she also was the one whom I had come to know as Mistress. "You may now approach me."

As silly as it sounded, I approached her as she sat regally upon MY desk, and I stood awaiting instructions.

"Kneel, my pet," she instructed, looking directly into my eyes, my soul.

"Pardonnez-moi?" I questioned, my nervousness revealed by my reverting to French.

"Well, even though you're French, you're also an English professor, so perhaps I should put this in plain English. Get... on... your... knees... now!"

Without understanding why I was doing so, I complied, slowly lowering myself onto my knees before this beautiful, seductive coed.

"Did you enjoy your week of gifts, my pet?" Bree asked, uncrossing her legs. Looking up, I could see beneath her short skirt that she was without panties like I was, and her cunt was bald like mine. And, I just now realized, her snatch was dripping wet. Just... like... mine. My cunt was literally dripping in anticipation of the culmination of this week-long seduction and captivation. I felt a strange sadness when she re-crossed her legs, hiding her treasure.

"Yes I did, Mistress." I answered, understanding what I was expected to say, easily surrendering into the submissive role I desperately craved.

"And you liked the makeover?" she asked, her heel dangling from her foot.

"Yes, Mistress, you were right: I definitely needed one," I again answered, saying exactly what she wanted to hear, and equally meaning it.

"And the full spa treatment," she added, "How was that?"

"Surprisingly relaxing," I admitted, recalling how nice it was, even the Brazilian.

"You like having your box smooth?" she asked, more crudely.

"Yes, Mistress," I nodded, "I'd never done that before," again feeling much sexier with a smooth box, as she so straightforwardly put it.

"And the thigh highs?" She asked, "You enjoy your new silken attire?"

"Yes, Mistress," I again agreed, before adding, "they make me feel sexier."

"And sluttier?" She added.

"And definitely sluttier," I agreed. Although the fact that I was kneeling here willing to bury my head between her legs at a moment's notice was, I imagine, even sluttier.

"And your little folk dance with the egg was OK?" She continued, replaying each day.

"Yes Mistress," I nodded, trying to be sexy and witty I added, "It was quite the buzz."

She laughed, "It was adorable watching your expressions when they first hit."

"How did you get it turned on in the other classes?" I asked.

"I have a lot of pets," she answered, making me wonder how many was a lot. After a moment, she continued, "And I trust slut Kimberly was pleasing? She usually is."

"Yes Mistress, she was superb. I've never felt that way before," I admitted, memories of last night's intense orgasm coming flooding back, pun intended.

"I am glad to hear it, slut. Of course you know everything in life comes with a price. I gave you a taste of your life to come. Now it's time for you to have a taste of something else."

I heard her call me a 'slut', a term that had always given me mixed feelings. I always hated that if a woman slept with a few men she was a slut, a pejorative term, while a guy sleeping with a few girls was a stud, almost an honorific. Yet, I also liked the idea of just letting go, of being a vessel of pleasure, an obedient sex puppet. I also knew what she was expecting me to do... to lick her. Although I had loved being pleasured yesterday by a woman, I wasn't sure I wanted to be on the giving end. I feigned confusion, "What do you mean?"

"I'll assume something got lost in the translation pet, so I'll give it to you again in plain English. By calling you my pet, I mean that you're mine to do with as I wish. By slut, I mean you're just that. You're to be my slut and to be used for my pleasure. And I shall use you as I please. When I please. And you'll also please whomever I tell you to please," she explained, again uncrossing her legs, this time keeping them wide open.

I stared at her pussy, curious what she would taste like, curious why so many people submitted to her. Were they all women, or did she also have male pets?

She continued, smiling at me as I stared at her cunt, "Do you understand now, my little croissant?"

I stammered, "I don't know."

"Oh yes you do," she purred, as her finger went to her cunt and she slowly rubbed her pussy lips.

I stared as her finger disappeared inside. I stared as she briefly fingered herself. I stared as she pulled it out and brought it to my lips. I stared as she gently suggested, "Go ahead, my pet, taste my perfection."

Again her words were pretentious, yet again I obeyed like a good submissive. I opened my mouth and took the wet finger in. The scent was exotic, the taste was exotic, the desire for more of it overpowered me. I bobbed on her finger as if it were a cock.

She laughed, "I knew you would be an eager pet."

When she pulled her finger out, she smiled, "Don't worry, I'm not stingy with my cunt, but only truly obedient pets get the privilege of experiencing it directly."

"Je comprends," I mindlessly nodded, my mouth watering for more, my eyes boring into the prized pussy.

She continued, "You're to submit to me unconditionally in all the fashions I listed before, including whoring you out to others such as I did with Kimberly last night. You now have a choice. Refuse me, and I'll leave you be. I'll never mention your experiences this week, and you'll be free to live your life with the memories. 'C'est la vie', as you say. But you'll also never again experience the pleasure you've had in the past week. And if you remain in the Boston area, you could have a lifetime of such pleasure. Mind you, I won't eat your pussy, I don't do that. But if you're good, you might from time to time be rewarded with that pleasure from another pet. So make your choice. But choose wisely, for your decision is irrevocable."

I would like to say I fought internally over this rather all-inclusive expectation. This was a nineteen-year-old girl. She was my student. She wanted me to become some sort of sexual servant to her and others. But the gifts had been wonderful. And the pleasure, both from the egg and from the wonderful Kimberly's tongue had been out of this world. How did one decide on something one thinks to be wrong, but was so amazingly pleasurable? When I walked into this classroom this evening I knew something like this would be expected; I knew from Kimberly's intimations that this was going to be complex; and I knew my career here could be at risk; yet right now facing the moment of truth I knew I wanted this, I needed this, and as I stared at the juicy peach before me, my decision was one of the easiest in my life.

"Please instruct me, Mistress. What must I do? I wish to be your pet more than anything else I can think of," I declared, not remotely ashamed, but eager and accepting of my position.

"Good choice, my pet. You will never regret it. Now get me off, slut," she ordered.

I leaned forward, and for the first time in my life, I tasted another femme. I didn't quite know what to expect, but I was surprised at what I tasted. The taste was honey-like. She'd called me a little croissant. Well, if that was so, this croissant wished to be slathered in that honey. I had no idea what to do, but I did my best to please my new Mistress. I tried doing what Kimberly had done to me. I may not have had her experience nor her expertise, but I did my best to produce pleasure.

I must have gotten at least a little bit right, for I was encouraged by her groans. "That's right, my Parisian slut, work that tongue in me."

I didn't correct her that in fact I was from Versailles. I merely did as she requested and made further use of my tongue.

After a couple more minutes, she pushed my head away and ordered, as she held her phone aimed at me, "Beg to eat my cunt, Mrs. Gar----."

I saw the phone, I knew I was being filmed, and I knew she was about to collect evidence that could be used against me. I should stand up and walk away. But prompted by her taste on my lips, my hunger to taste her pussy while she came, and my natural desire to obey, I responded, "Mistress Bree, may your professor pussy-pleasing pet please lick your cunt until you come all over my face?"

Approving of my answer, she grabbed my head and pulled me deep inside her.

"Yes slut! I want you to French kiss my pussy. I'm almost there. Do it!" she screamed out to me.

As she held me by the back of my head and ground her box all over my face, I could feel her humping become faster. Her coming could only be a moment away.

I did my best to enhance her arousal as she used my face for her own personal pleasure, which also made my cunt leak.

"I'm coming, slut! Suck it up! Drink my juice!" she ordered, still grinding.

I did as she required and still couldn't believe how good she tasted. It was better than the best vintage of a French white wine.

As she finally became sated, she pulled my head away from her silky thighs and smiled at me, stroking my hair gently. "You're so beautiful wearing my pussy juice on your face, slut. I believe we'll have many good times together. I look forward to the use of your tongue over the holidays."

It pained me to disappoint my new Mistress, as the idea of pleasing her again excited me greatly, but I had to let her know. "Mistress, I'm returning to Versailles for the holidays. I'll be gone for two weeks. I'm sorry. My flight's been booked for weeks."

"Why would you do that? I'm here, not in France," Mistress Bree asked as if my plans were the silliest thing she'd ever heard.

"I'm visiting my daughter, Mistress. She's also on holiday from university, and I haven't seen her since the summer. Should I try to make other arrangements, Mistress?"

"Your daughter, you say? No, no, you may go, I've always wanted to go to France," she said.

"Pardon?" I asked.

"I wouldn't want to get between a mother and daughter. In fact I love when I see them come together. You'll get me a ticket to go with you," she explained.

I wanted to ask how I would explain her presence to my daughter, but I already understood that this was obviously my problem and not hers. Instead, I replied, her pussy juice still wet upon my face, "Of course, Mistress. Except if it's acceptable to you, we shan't be going to France, but to Newcastle upon Tyne in the northeast of England. Samantha has never been to France."

"Perfectly acceptable. That close to the North Sea in late December, we'll need to find ways of staying warm. But back to the present. Are you horny, my pet?"

"Desperately," I admitted, serving her being its own aphrodisiac.

"Get out of your outfit." she ordered.

Being required in my classroom, even on a Saturday, to become naked frightened me, but my desire to please and obey once again took charge.

While I did, she was texting on her phone instead of watching me undress, which disappointed me.

Once I was standing there only in thigh highs and bra, she ordered, not even looking up, "Bra too."

I again obeyed, feeling completely vulnerable standing in nothing but thigh high stockings in my classroom.