Teaching Teacher

I feel her body pushing back against my hand. Her hands fly to the wall as if to push her off of it. I snap the crop again, searing a matching crop print welt onto her other globe. Cheeks should always match! Welts and all! "I said no talking!" I scold her as she's screeching another "OW!" from the stroke.

I bring the crop back and snap my wrist, sending its tip soaring back to the first cheek. It lands right beside the glowing welt and sears another one onto her cheek.

"STOP! Stop hurting me! Don't spank me again!" LeighAnne screeches out, her voice now panicked.

I snap the crop again, stinging a second welt onto her second cheek. She screeches another "OW," and this one sounds rather sobbing. "I said take your bra off, bitch."

"I'M SORRY! OWW!!" LeighAnne screams out, her voice sobbing and pleading desperately. I ignore her. I snap my crop again, searing a third welt onto her globe just above the other two. "I'LL TAKE MY BRA OFF! I'M SORRY! PLEASE, STOP! PLEASE DON'T HURT ME ANY MORE MA'AM! PLEASE! DON'T HURT ME SO BADLY, MA'AM! YOU CAN HAVE MY BRA! YOU CAN SEE MY LITTLE BOOBS, MA'AM! I'M SORRY!"

I snap the crop again, searing a third welt onto her second cheek. She screams. I scold her. "That's three. I've already told you the price of being a bitch is five. You have two more coming. Behave, or it will be worse, BITCH."

I don't' give her the time to answer. Not that she could if she wanted to. She's bawling too badly already. I just snap the crop. Three times, in rapid succession. It sears a fourth welt onto both of her globes. And a fifth onto one of them.

LeighAnne screams with each stroke. She squirms against the wall. That's about all she can do pinned against it. But she doesn't beg me to stop again. I guess she learned that lesson.

"You have one little stroke left. Just one. You are going to behave for it, bitch. This is your chance to show me that you're truly sorry for being a bitch. You will not make a sound. Not even a yelp. Stand there and feel the sting of the whip on your bottom like a naughty bitch."

I snap the crop. LeighAnne clenches her teeth hard. Her body stiffens to steel as the strike lands. She sobs. But she doesn't scream out. As soon as the leather tip of the crop leaves her bottom, she loosens up. And sobs loudly, bawling and sniffling. "I'm sorry, Ma'am..." LeighAnne sobs out. "I didn't scream, Ma'am... See, I really am sorry, Ma'am..."

I grab her shoulders and turn her back around. I push her back against the wall. I leave her panties down around her thighs. It lets me see her flat pubes. It lets me see the neat little bush on them as well. Her hairs are trimmed short. Her fur is trimmed with neat lines on all three sides. Her lips are shaven silky smooth. It's just the way I like a bush. Neat. It also lets me see how flat her mound is.

I can barely see her lips from the front. But now I can see that she does have a little mound. It's not perfectly flat. It looks like it would be if her legs were parted instead of almost together. Now it looks as if her lips have been pushed into a mound. I can see the wide ridgeline of her pink inner folds, rising up with their wrinkles at the front of her pussy. I can see that her lips don't ever meet, at least not in the front. Her wide gash rises up the line of her bush. Her lips just flow into her pubes. The ridgeline of pinkness just stops at the top of her gash. I can even see the tips of those folds standing out from beyond her lips.

I stare into LeighAnne's wet eyes as she cries. "Do you know what your problem is? You think you're a person! You need to accept that you're not a person! You're nothing but a worthless, sloppy fuck hole!" I tell LeighAnne. "Now behave your worthless butt, bitch. Ask me to let you show me your boobs."

LeighAnne sobs away. "Ma'am, may I please take my bra off and show you my tiny boobs, Ma'am? Please, Ma'am, I'm so sorry for being bitchy. I'd really like to show you my boobs. May I please, Ma'am?"

"Show them to me, bitch," I tell her.

LeighAnne reaches her hands up to her bra. I don't see a clip in the front. And I don't remember seeing one in the back, either. Just the narrow strap around her. But her bra isn't what I was paying attention to. She puts her hands to the bottom of the cups and lifts them up. Over her head. Then pulls her arms out of it. She folds it and asks Sophie to hold it. Then she puts her hands behind her back.

LeighAnne shirks back against the wall. Her sobs are just beginning to fade. But not the sting in those cheeks. She stands there, cringing and now blushing, something I've yet to see her do, with her little breasts on full display.

I'm guessing that her chest is a 34. If so, it's on the small side of that band size. To me, she looks just a hair too wide to be a 32. it would be tight on her. I guess that her breasts are AA cups. They look it. They're tiny. And they're fairly pointy. The undersides are mostly flat, with a gentle roundness to them, as they rise off her chest towards the tips of her mounds. The tops are just as softly rounded. It makes the tips look pointy. But her breasts are topped with a pair of quarter-sized rings of light pink with a faint brownness to it. And a pair of wide nipples that rise a full ¼" off the tips of her nipples. Those nipples have a gently rounded tip, and they're long enough to have straight sides as they stand up. They're about half as wide as the rings around them. They're the same shade of the same color. They're as hard as rocks now. And, with the pointiness of her breasts, they look as if they're angling to point just slightly upward from the tips. They're nice breasts. Too bad they only rise an inch or so off her chest.

"Look, slave!" I say sweetly to Sophie, "have you ever seen breasts so tiny?" I have. Sophie has, too. Not every woman can have great, and ample breasts.

"No, Mistress!" Sophie tells me with a giggle in her voice. She knows to just play along. "But those nipples are big!! They will so love to have clamps on them, Mistress!"

LeighAnne cringes a little more. I put a hand to her breast, using the tips of my fingers to stroke over the small mound. There isn't enough for me to cup it. But I can feel its silky soft skin. And I can feel the stiffness of her nipple. I get to watch goosebumps erupt to cover the entire mound as my fingers run of the nipple, too. I guess she likes them played with.

I tell LeighAnne to give Sophie her panties now. She really doesn't hesitate to slip them the rest of the way down. Her pussy is already bared, so they're not hiding anything anymore. Nor does LeighAnne hesitate to give her sandals to Sophie.

Sophie takes LeighAnne's clothes and heads off to the playroom with them. LeighAnne watches, her eyes rather reluctant and edgy, as her clothes disappear. Sophie locks them in a drawer of a file cabinet that I keep in the playroom for just that reason. She hurries back without them. LeighAnne cringes again, realizing that her clothes are now gone. She won't be getting them back anytime too soon. She's going to be staying nude.

I send Sophie to fetch a collar "appropriate for such an insolent bitch." Sophie knows that I mean the "hard" collar. The one I save for those who misbehave the most. I call it a punishment collar. It's for those being punished. It's heavy iron. It's 2" wide and ¼" thick. It has a hinge in the back and a hasp at the front for a padlock. It looks like something the Spanish Inquisition used 1000 years ago. It's cold and heavy around the neck, too. Sophie hurries to bring it to me, bringing a lock along with it.

LeighAnne cringes again, her eyes going wide as she sees the heavy collar. I lock it around her slim neck. I clip a leash to the padlock. I tell LeighAnne to come along with me and to keep her hands behind her. She's not to hide my breasts from me. I own those. Just as I own the rest of her "skanky butt," and will do as I fancy with all of it. Whether she likes it or not.

That's all the time I have before I get her across my living room. That's where I have my desk, angled in a corner. It's a nice, professional desk that I use mostly for studying. But I use it for this, too. It has a small stool beside it. The stool is Amish-built. It's plain wood, with four legs and a 12" round top. There's no back to it. There's nothing else to it. It's also just a hair low to sit on. As if it were built for a pre-teen, not an adult.

I tell LeighAnne to sit on the stool. It has her left side against the side of my desk. It has her facing a blank wall, too. I remind her that she's to keep her eyes straight ahead, and not to be worrying about what I'm doing.

LeighAnne sits. I firmly instruct her that she's to sit like a proper lady, even if she is just a cheap whore. She's to fully cross her legs. She's to sit up straight. And she's to sit still. I tell her that she's only to speak when spoken to. And then she's only to answer my questions, very politely and humbly. "Remember, you are my property, bitch, not something worthy of some shred of respect, like a person!"

I boot up the laptop and bring up a form I use for all my subs. It just keeps track of the basics, and I don't know anything about LeighAnne other than that she's Kayla's teacher. "What is your full named, bitch?" It seems like a good place to start.

"LeighAnne Monica Cutler, Ma'am," LeighAnne answers.

"How old is that sloppy butt?"

"I'm 27, Ma'am." She tells me. It's right in the range I guessed. After seeing her body more fully, especially how taut it is, I figured she'd be on the lower end of the range I'd guessed.

I ask her if she's seeing anyone. She tells me she's not. I ask when her last date was. She says several weeks ago. She went out with a fellow teacher twice before they discovered they didn't make a great couple. I ask her when the last time she has sex was. She blushes. She tells me it was several months ago. She'd had a summer romance while school was out, but it ended, rather badly, just after school started. He was her last lover. I ask how many lovers she's had. She tells me four. None of those seem to have lasted that long, at least not to me. Interesting.

I ask her "When's the last time you masturbated that sloppy pussy?"

LeighAnne shirks back. She blushes brightly. Every bit of that brassiness is suddenly back in her voice. "What does that-" LeighAnne beings to balk.

I flick my wrist. LeighAnne must have forgotten that I brought my crop with me. The flick sends its tip arcing up and soaring to her face. But it's a very light stroke. It snaps against her cheek, searing a faint little pink welt onto it. It's a welt that will fade in a minute or five.

"YE-OW!" LeighAnne screeches out. She lets the light slap of the crop knock her head sideways a bit. I'm sure that's mostly to ease the strike. She very quickly turns back to me, her eyes so wide they look as if they're going to pop out of her head. "I'm sorry, Ma'am!" LeighAnne blurts out very nervously. Her voice is humbled back to its sheepish tone, too. Message received. "I masturbated about two hours ago, Ma'am!"

That's an interesting answer. To me. It tells me two things. The spanking, which probably still stings her bottom slightly, didn't do much to turn her off. Neither did the thought of coming here, where she'd again be under my power. It only leaves me to wonder if it's the pain, the humiliation, or both that are exciting her. Because something clearly is.

I ask her if she climaxed. She did. I ask her how many times. She tells me once... then she confesses that she masturbated twice. Once when she got home from school, and again before leaving. I ask her if I were to check her pussy now, would I still find it sloppy wet, and hotly aroused? She very reluctantly admits that I "might." I won't accept that answer. She changes it to a yes. As if I didn't know that. I just want her to say it. And to learn that when I ask a question, I expect a real answer, not the kinds of answers she gets from students. I remind her that I don't care about her modesty. I might care about her privacy if such a concept were to actually exist for her. It doesn't. She's not allowed any privacy, no matter how intimate the subject.

I ask her when her last period was.

"That's none of your—" LeighAnne balks hard, the brassiness coming right back into her voice.

I flick my wrist. It snaps another stroke onto her cheek. She yelps as her head tilts away. I flick my wrist again, snapping another stroke onto her other cheek as she's still yelping from the first stroke. She screeches a little louder. "OW!... I'M SORRY, MA'AM!" LeighAnne sobs a few rather sniffly sobs. "I'm sorry, Ma'am... my period ended last Friday, Ma'am."

I scold her, telling her I asked when it started. She tells me that Tuesday. I ask her how long it lasted. As if I couldn't do the math. She tells me four days. I ask her how heavy the flow was. Whether she used tampons or pads. How many tampons a day? How often did she change them? It's far more questions than I'd normally ask. I usually ask only what I need to know. But since LeighAnne is so clearly reluctant to talk about her period, I make her tell me every intimate detail of it, even those I forget as soon as I hear them. She answers, her voice sheepish. I guess she learned that lesson, too.

I ask her whether she's ever given a blow job. She tells me she has, but she's never let a man cum in her mouth. I ask her if she's ever tried anal sex. She tells me no. And she tells me that she doesn't want to try it. I give her another flick of the crop, scolding her for adding that. I didn't ask if she wanted to try it. I only asked if she has. I tell her firmly, "I'll tell you what you want to try. Right before you try it." And I grin at her as I do.

I make her tell me about her sex life. It sounds boring to me. Far too vanilla. It seems almost all of her experience is rather typical, mostly missionary position.

And I learn that she's never tried D/s, or anything else considered "kinky" before. She tells me she has no idea why she "allowed herself" to be spanked. She didn't want to be spanked. She found it the most degrading and painful thing. But something just made her stand there. Even when I took control and she knew she was going actually going to be spanked. She didn't want to be spanked, but her body wouldn't move for her.

I tell her to stand up. I tell her that there are some things I don't ask because I know she'd just fudge her answers. My slave will weigh and measure her. Then I'll have real numbers. Not the numbers she wants the numbers to be.

I step close in front of her. I tell her that she's to stand still. And most importantly, she's to keep her hands at the small of her back. No matter what. She's to pay attention only to me. She's to ignore everything else.

I wiggle a few fingers at Sophie, letting her know to do what I've told her to do earlier.

I stay very close in front of LeighAnne, looking her right in her eyes. "You will answer my questions. My slave will take your temperature, just to make sure you don't have COVID or some other skanky disease. You will not move." I remind her again. Then I ask her about that last boyfriend. The one with the bad breakup.

LeighAnne starts telling me about him. It was a guy who she met at her gym. He was nice to her, and "great" in the beginning. She thought she liked him.

Sophie steps over behind LeighAnne. Sophie moves quietly, and with LeighAnne staring into my face, LeighAnne doesn't notice that Sophie's even joining us. Sophie puts both of her hands to LeighAnne's freshly whipped cheeks and starts to firmly push them apart, stretching LeighAnne's crack wide.

LeighAnne sucks in a startled breath. She suddenly quivers, rather noticeably. She starts to say something. I'm sure it's an objection or a plea. She clearly didn't imagine that Sophie would be taking her temperature there. In her bottom. But now it's obvious. And LeighAnne looks as unhappy about it as she does nervous.

I snap LeighAnne's attention back to me by asking her why she broke up with him. She tells me that it was mutual. They'd had a big fight. He wasn't satisfied with her in bed. LeighAnne sucks in an edgy, squealy-nervous breath as she feels Sophie pressing the tip of the thermometer into her asshole. Now with a slight squeaking in her sheepish voice, LeighAnne tells me that the two of them had been having sex. For a long time. And he hadn't cum. He blamed her. She didn't think it was her fault. He was "on top." The fight degraded into name-calling. The breakup followed. Duh. I would have so tossed him out!

LeighAnne breathes out a sigh of relief as she finally feels Sophie pull the thermometer from her bottom. Sophie announces LeighAnne's temperature for all to hear. I tell Sophie to measure LeighAnne.

Sophie gets a measuring tape. She announces LeighAnne's measurements as she takes them. Bust, 33. AA Cups. Waist 25. Hips 34. Sophie walks LeighAnne over to the wall where there's a tape to get her height. 5'3.5" I was so close! And there's a scale to get her weight. 111 pounds. I note it all down.

Just seeing how squirrelly LeighAnne was with a tiny little thermometer going into her bottom gives me an idea. It tells me right where I want to start. At the bottom. Specifically, LeighAnne's bottom.

But I don't tell her that. When Sophie brings LeighAnne back, I tell LeighAnne to lean over the stool, resting her forearms flat on it. Then I tell her to spread her legs. She does it, reluctantly, knowing that she's exposing her pussy to me rather fully and immodestly. I'll bet she's wondering what I'm going to do with it.

That's another thing I learned about LeighAnne. She's never done anything with another woman. Not even a kiss or a little touch. I doubt another woman has even seen her pussy before. I'm confident that she has no idea what two women would actually do in bed, just the typical assumptions. And she's never found anything attractive about another woman. Never considered as much as flirting with a woman. And she definitely has no idea what "kinky impulse" made her submit to me, a girly-looking woman. She has even less idea what I might do with her. I'll bet she assumes that I'm a lesbian just because I have a female slave. I wonder what she's thinking about herself right about now.

Now I can see just how prominent those inner folds are as they rise out beyond her lips. They're plump, loose, and wrinkly. But most interesting to me, right at the knot where her folds flow into a single ridgeline, I can see the hard nub of her slit standing up eagerly. It's wide, maybe like the tip of my pinkie. It's hard. And its head is poking up just above the ridgeline. And just a hair beyond the outside of her narrow lips. She must have been sitting on that hard nub. Feeling it as she fidgeted around. It must have been driving her crazy. I'm going to have fun with that, too.

I use the tips of my fingers to ease the lips of her pussy, and those inner folds, apart. LeighAnne expects me to do something with her pussy. So I'm going to. I'll give her what she expects for a moment. Besides, it lets me see her inner pinkness. I could already see her inner folds, and all their softness, and her eager clit. Now I can see the narrow entrance of her tunnel, too. I can even see the very edge of her hotly flushed, bright walls. But mostly what I see is a heavy coat of her clingy, oily, honey covering everything. I release her lips. I'll get to her pussy later.

"Now, let's see about that bottom..." I say, just to tease LeighAnne. I put my hands on her globes and push them apart. It spreads her small crack wide and lets me see the smallish ring of her asshole. It's not the smallest ring I've seen. It's not the biggest, either. But it's big enough that a thermometer should not have been a problem for her. It must have just been psychological. Just feeling that it was there was enough to bother her with the idea that it was there. Hers is a medium deep shade of purple, a quarter-sized swath of flesh. It's lined with countless faint wrinkles. And one rather large, prominent wrinkle at the bottom. All of them flow into a small little dark spot that's shaped more like a tiny little line. Except hers isn't so dark. It would be except that instead that single prominent wrinkle seems to fold up just beyond the rim, where the flesh turns and begins to flow inward. I can't see the lines of her muscle. It's more just a gentle and shallow funneling inward of the flesh in the valley of her crack.