Schoolgirl Domme Ch. 02

I've sometimes read on spanking sites how erotic it feels to lie across someone's lap. Something about the contact between crotches, especially if it's a woman lying across a man's lap, but also the feeling of humiliation, of being treated like a naughty child. Believe me: it's all true. I felt all of those things as I lay down across Trixie's lap – though, in fact, I felt more as if I were lying across Fran's. As if my teacher were going to spank me for real.

My hands were on the floor and I looked straight ahead. To my surprise, I found I was looking straight at my own reflection – there was a full-length mirror next to the door to the kitchen that I somehow had never noticed in all the times I had been here. It meant I could see my position and the look on my face. And I could watch as Fran – to me, at this moment she was definitely Fran – in her gorgeous elegant outfit, lifted my skirt and pulled my knickers down.

There is nothing – absolutely nothing – to compare with the erotic feeling of exposure and vulnerability that comes when someone else pulls your knickers down. She left them half way down my legs. Had she slid them off completely, it would have been preparing for sex, making me more daring – "Schoolgirl uniform and no knickers", ready for a fuck. But pulling them half way down my legs and leaving them there made it clear: I was a bratty schoolgirl and I was going to be spanked.

It started very gently. Fran just caressed my bum, running her hand over it and giving it the occasional pat. Then the pats got a bit harder, but it was still more like something in play than any sort of discipline. I was feeling reassured, getting used to it, getting to like it. I looked in the mirror. I loved the sight of me in shirt and tie, just like a naughty schoolgirl. It was exactly what I wanted to be. Fran looked so beautifully elegant, with a serious expression on her face: she was my teacher, in the fantasy as well as for real, and she was spanking me. I had dreamed of this. Suddenly she gave my bum a sharp slap. Instinctively I gave a little cry – of surprise as much as anything. I saw Fran's lip curl in the mirror.

"Shut up, you fucking slut."

I loved hearing her say that. And then she slapped me again. This time I was ready for it – tensed my bum and gritted my teeth.

She slapped again – much harder this time. And again. Now she was spanking me properly, one spank on each of my bum cheeks in turn. I felt more helpless, more trapped. I started to writhe in her lap, and the spanks started to get really hard. I felt my bum stinging and I tried to turn away from her hand, twisting as much as I dared. But she held me firm and gave a sharp rap to the backs of my legs.

"Stay still, you little bitch."

It was hurting now. And I wasn't enjoying it. She was looking down at me furiously – fuck, but that looked sexy – spanking me properly, to make it hurt. Now I felt like a naughty schoolgirl all right – a naughty schoolgirl who had been found out. Suddenly her hand reached out and grabbed my hair by the pony tail. She pulled my head back and spoke in my ear:

"I think you ought to be thanking me, you little bitch. Don't you? What do you say?"

"Thank you, Miss. Thank you for spanking me."

"That's better. And what are you?"

"I'm a little bitch, Miss. I'm a fucking schoolgirl whore. Please spank me. Please spank me more. Don't stop."

"Oh, I'll take care of that."

I froze. That was Belinda's voice.

"Stand up!"

I stood up, still with my knickers half way down my legs, feeling close to tears now, my bum hurt so much. But I wasn't going to give in. I wanted this – I knew I wanted it – and I was going to go through with it. Belinda took Fran's – or maybe now it was Trixie's – place on the sofa.

"Kneel over there, slut." That was to Trixie. She crossed the room and knelt in the corner to watch. Then I lay across Belinda's lap. I was surrendering to her: I was giving myself up into my schoolfriend's power. It felt much scarier. Immediately she pulled me by my hair and hissed in my ear, "You will count the strokes out loud after each one, and you will say 'Thank you, Miss' as well. Understand?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Right."

And in the mirror I saw her pick up a ruler. And I saw something else as well. I couldn't make it out clearly: it was as if a shadow had moved somehow in the mirror. But there wasn't time to think about it – WHACK!! Belinda had started with the ruler. I gasped and managed to say "One. Thank you, Miss."

WHACK!!

"Two. Thank you, Miss."

They were sharp blows. They didn't break the skin, but I felt my bum was on fire. I wanted to cry, I could feel tears welling in my eyes, but I was determined not to give in, not in front of Belinda. I was clenching my fists, screwing my face up, determined to weather the pain, to see it through to the end. I would not give in. Three. Thank you, Miss. Four. Only four, for God's sake. I wouldn't get through this. Five. Thank you, Miss. Just get through it, just get through it. Six. OK, we're past the half way point. Seven – fuck, that hurt. Eight. "Thank – you – Miss". I could just about say the words. Did I mean them? No time to think – just say them. Nine. "Thank – you – Miss." And one more. The pain shot through my body: I thought I would scream. I gave a sort of grunt, my head fell forward, and I managed to blurt out, "Ten. Thank. You. Miss."

And Belinda relaxed. That was it. I'd survived.

"Good thing it's not the cane, eh? Right, get up and go and stand in the corner. DON'T pull your knickers up, unless you want twenty more."

I shuffled over to the corner and stood there, facing the wall. Such confused emotions and feelings. Part of me felt humiliated, ashamed, asking myself what the hell I was doing there – why had I let them do this to me? I could just pull my knickers up and go home. Couldn't I? So why didn't I? But as I stood there, getting my breath back, seething with indignation, the burning in my bum was beginning to change. It became a different sort of fire, a wonderful fiery feeling that ran through my whole body. It was like an orgasm, the most amazing orgasm, only it was lasting much longer. My whole body was on fire, a sexy fire: I felt wonderful: I was so horny, I was alive with lust. I wanted every type of sex there is, I wanted to throw myself into it, to wallow in it. I had to tell them, I wanted to share this with them: they were right about spanking, it was wonderful, quite wonderful, I loved it, and I turned round – and stopped. For a moment I couldn't make sense of what I was seeing. Trixie – she was definitely Trixie now – was on her knees in front of Belinda and Belinda was gripping her head, apparently forcing her into her crotch. Then I realised what was happening. Belinda was wearing a strap-on dildo and Trixie, our English teacher, was sucking it.

This was so heavenly, I couldn't take much more. I pulled off those stupid knickers – I wasn't a naughty schoolgirl now, I was a whore – and I knelt next to Trixie.

"Oh yes, Miss. Let me, please! Please!"

And I grabbed it out of Trixie's mouth and took the dildo into mine. It was only plastic, but that didn't matter: to me it was Belinda's cock and I was going to suck it dry. I licked it furiously, covered it with my saliva. I was eating it, taking all of I into my hungry mouth. I was desperate for that cock. I wanted to worship it. Eventually I took it out, just to get my breath, looked up at Belinda and said, "Please, Miss, please fuck me with it. Please!"

Slap!

For a moment I didn't know what had happened. Then I realised – Belinda had slapped my face.

"Don't be greedy, you little slut. This cock is for my teacher."

"Oh, thank you, Mistress!" – Trixie sounded delighted next to me.

"Get on your back, you teacher slut," Belinda barked. "I'm going to fuck you like a man."

And she did. I watched, loving the sight of my teacher lying back with her legs open and Belinda, her pupil, lying between her legs, easing that dildo into her cunt, and fucking her. Trixie's legs buckled as Belinda thrust faster and faster into her.

"Yes, Mistress! Yes! Fuck your teacher! Fuck her! Your teacher slut is cumming, Mistress!!"

"What are you?"

"I'm your teacher slut! Your teacher whore!"

"Say it again!"

"I'm your teacher slut! Your fucking teacher whore!"

And she came, with a great grunt and a gasp.

After which we all took a breather. I couldn't quite believe this, but Belinda switched the telly on because she wanted to catch the news. In fact, if I remember rightly, Fran was particularly worried about the weather forecast because she was meeting friends the next day for a picnic. Once again, we were all sitting round, dressed for sex, smelling of sex, covered in sex, but doing something totally ordinary.

Weird, or what?

And then, ironically just when a film was starting that I really would have liked to watch, Belinda switched the telly off, looked at me, and announced, "Right, you little schoolgirl whore, I think it's time I fucked you properly. Don't you?"

And Trixie said, with a relish that sent a thrilling shiver through my body: "Yes, Mistress. It's time the little bitch felt your cock up her."

Belinda stood over me and grabbed my face roughly in her hand, looking down at me, her face twisted with scorn.

"Look at that. The bitch is all excited."

And she slapped my face.

"She's on heat, Mistress," said Trixie, coming over to look down at me.

"That's it," said Belinda, with a sneer, "she's a dog. She's a fucking dog. A real bitch. What are you?"

I loved it. I looked Belinda straight in the eye. "I'm a dog. I'm a bitch. I'm your fucking bitch, Miss."

"Get on all fours then."

And I fell onto my hands and knees. Again, I found I was in front of the full-length mirror, and again I had the odd sensation of a shadow moving in it somewhere.

"Right," said Belinda, "this bitch needs to be fucked like the dog she is." And she knelt behind me and I felt her fingers feeling my cunt lips. "God, this bitch is wet! She is gagging for it. Aren't you, bitch?" I could see Belinda leaning forward as she said it, and I looked straight at my reflection and said: "Yes, Miss, I am gagging for it. I want you to fuck me like the dirty bitch dog I am. Please Miss, take my dog cunt and fuck it hard. I'm your dog: please treat me like one."

And suddenly she forced her strap-on right into my cunt. I gasped and nearly fell forward. She slapped my bum.

"Hold still, you fucking bitch!"

She fucked me. Her dildo filled my cunt, slowly at first, so I could savour it. Then she grabbed by pony tail and began to thrust in and out, so I started bucking – more like a horse than a dog – but then she was in her riding gear. She began to spank my bum as she fucked me, faster and faster now. I was gasping, crying out, "Thank you, Miss! Fuck me, Miss! Harder, Miss – pleeeease!" I hardly knew where I was any more: all I knew was what I could see in the mirror – a horny bitch in schoolgirl uniform, being fucked by an absolute goddess. I felt I wanted it to last for ever.

It didn't. It never does. Though Belinda hadn't finished with me yet.

"Here, Trixie, you teacher cunt. Finger fuck her arse."

I nearly passed out. Without being told, I stuck my bum in the air and waited. I could see Trixie taking up her position behind me, still in her beautifully smart white shirt and black waistcoat. Belinda was standing behind her holding her leash. Trixie was putting on a disposable glove, and then she took a pot of gel, I felt something cold and gooey on my arsehole. Ugh. But then very quickly I felt Trixie's finger exploring inside me.

How do I describe how it feels to have your gorgeous English teacher fingering your arse? When it's what you have dreamt of and fantasised about for months? From the moment you set eyes on her? When the pleasure is so intense you squirm because your whole body is on fire? When you feel a second finger, and then (my God!) a third, and you want to scream out loud because it feels so wonderful? When you feel you want her to go on fingering you for ever, because you never want it to stop? When the pleasure is so intense, so unbearable, that tears begin to stream down your face? When you are reduced to begging her on your knees, to promise always to do it, for the rest of your life?

Because that's how it was for me.

When Trixie finally took her fingers out, I turned back to her and took her face in my hands. I couldn't speak. I just kissed her. I kissed her all over her face, and I kissed her lips, I couldn't stop.

Until Belinda cracked her riding crop against her boot.

"Enough!"

Then I stopped. And we both knelt before her, side by side. And I felt for Trixie's hand with mine, and she took it. And I knew we were equal now, both enslaved by Belinda. And I knew it was what I wanted. What would make me completely, totally happy.

She looked down at us both. "What a pair of fucking sluts I have here. A slut teacher -" and she grabbed Trixie's face and slapped it – "and a filthy schoolgirl slut. What am I to do with you both, I wonder?"

I gulped and spoke.

"Please, Miss?"

"Did you speak, you little shit?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Did I give you permission?"

"No, Miss."

"What are you, then?"

"I'm a little shit, Miss."

"Yes, you are. Well, go on, then. Say what you have to say."

I kept my eyes down as I spoke: "If you please, Miss, I have something to ask of you."

"Ask of me? I want you to beg."

"I do beg you. Please, Miss, I want to serve you. I want to be your slave. I want to be your whore. I want to do whatever you tell me to do, whenever you tell me. I want to submit to you completely. Utterly. Totally." And I added: "I want you to own me."

She looked at me. "Well, well. We have got a servile little slut here, haven't we? Let me see what I've got."

And she walked over to a drawer and took something out. My eyes widened as I realised what it was: a large leather collar, just like Trixie's. My heart was racing – I think I was even making a little mewing sound: I wanted that collar more than anything else in the world. I wanted to feel it round my neck, to know that Belinda owned me, that I was her slave, her property, that I had submitted to her completely. She was bringing it over to me, holding it above me, as if she was holding a treat over a puppy. I felt just like a puppy as I gazed up at that collar, that collar that would make me hers for ever.

And then she took it away.

"No, I don't think you're quite ready for it. Not yet."

And she put it back in the drawer.