All Girl's School: A Cunt Fest

"Well, hi," I said.

"You're okay with my wearing these, aren't you?" she asked.

"Of course," I said, knowing so much more than I did last time I talked to her. The nylons now seemed to be the least of the issues. "They're just a little risqué is all."

"Not compared to some of the other girls," she said.

"True enough," I nodded.

"Have a good rest of your day, Mom," she said.

"You too, honey," I said, wondering if she'd been pressured into having lesbian sex or seduced, or simply because it was 2019 and that's what girls do now. "Honey, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Do you like it here?"

"Yeah, I love it here," she said, her smile going wide.

"You're fitting in okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "The girls here are so nice."

"Great," I said as the bell rang.

She headed out and I tried to clear my head and focus it on teaching the students that were coming in.

Even with all the stress and stimulation of the pictures, once I started teaching, I could quell the thoughts until the period when Sarah entered my classroom.

Then I couldn't help but obsess about whether it was she who was stalking me.

And if it was, and it likely was, how could she possibly know so much about me?

The mystery was driving me nuts!

My body and my mind were at complete odds, but like in many of my stories, it's always the body that wins.

Today she was wearing my favourite colour of nylons, too: mocha.

Just another hint it was her, especially when she slipped her feet out of her shoes and displayed them for me, teasing and tempting me ruthlessly, and almost certainly doing it tactically.

My cunt tingled.

My body surreptitiously quivered.

I was in complete lust.

I barely made it through the class, and I was thankful when I'd made it back to my living quarters.

Thankful for a moment.

As soon as I entered my room, a little after 3:30, I stepped on a picture that was a full eight by eleven.

I picked it up and read the words.

This time the picture was obviously of Sarah.

From behind.

In those same mocha nylons.

In a pose that would have any woman's cunt gushing instantly.

It was an order.

Well, a set of orders.

To be in my room at 4:30. Did she mean my private room or my classroom?

I was to be in thigh highs.

Ironically I was already obeying... as if my subconscious was already preparing me for this.

I was to be on my knees waiting for her.

These were expectations very like the ones I would attribute to one of my fictional Mistresses.

Then the last line, again words that seemed to be drawn directly from a dozen of my stories: Submit and become who you were born to be.

And at the moment... that was exactly what I wanted to do... how I envisioned myself.

My years of writing fictional submissive characters, many of them submitting to teens, had well prepared me for this moment.

I could pretend to have a long back-and-forth conversation between a cartoon angel and devil on my shoulders about whether I should obey those commands.

But just like my submissive characters, my submission was inevitable.

I could deny it.

I could fight it.

Or I could just accept my true nature.

Accept my long-neglected fantasy.

Accept that this was meant to be.

Remembering the photo of Madam Monroe relaxed me considerably, as it was a message from Sarah saying I wouldn't lose my job. She was assuring me, downright proving to me I was safe, removing my biggest worry.

The pictures of my daughter also packed a deliberate message. They told me that it was all right: I wouldn't alienate my daughter if I submitted just like Zoe had.

My biggest concern now wasn't my job or being outed anymore... no, my biggest concern was where the fuck was I supposed to be at 4:30?

My own room?

My classroom?

Which one?

I glanced nervously at the clock.

It was 4:04.

4:30 seemed an eternity away.

My panties were soaked.

I took them off and decided to go commando just in case Sarah decided to check under my skirt.

I didn't change the rest of my attire for the day though. I didn't want anyone to notice I'd changed into something sexier.

I paced my room.

I re-examined the pictures on my phone.

I went through the photos of my daughter.

I tried to figure out how she'd ended up in those pictures.

Was she seduced?

Was she blackmailed?

Was she a willing participant from the start?

Had she known the pictures were being taken? She sure appeared happy. Eager. Exactly the way I imagined I'd look in those encounters.

Was she aware I was being seduced?

So many questions.

No answers.

The future was a blank canvas... one that I was ready to have painted for me. I wouldn't be the painter, since Sarah had made it very clear she knew I was submissive through and through. I had no intention of trying to disabuse her of that notion.

I decided the stage for my upcoming surrender was likely to be my classroom... it just seemed logical... it also fit the approach of my stories. So many submission scenes had taken place in classrooms.

So many teachers.

And this time it was to be the teacher behind the teachers who took the fall.

I went into my classroom and closed the door. Checked. Yes, it was unlocked.

Slipped out of my heels. It just felt right.

I waited.

I got down on my knees at 4:29.

I stared at the clock as if the moment the digital number changed from 29 to 30, Sarah would magically poof herself into my room.

She didn't.

30 became 31.

31 became 32.

32 became 33.

33 became 34.

I was just about to get off my knees, when the door opened.

I looked up and watched Sarah walk in and close the door behind her and lock it. She was still wearing her school uniform.

She smiled, "Good girl, Ms. Walker."

I felt my cheeks burn at those words. Words I'd had my Mistresses utter so many times in my stories: 'Good girl.'

Those words had always felt good to write, and now they also felt so natural and exhilarating when they were being said to me.

"Thank you," I whispered, trepidation and excitement coursing through me, creating an inner whirlwind.

"Excited?" she asked as she walked towards me.

"Confused," I answered.

"About what?"

"How you knew."

"How I knew what?" she asked, although her tone made it clear she knew very well what I was asking.

"Who I really am."

"Silkstockingslover?" she asked, straddling me and revealing she wasn't wearing any panties either.

"Yes," I admitted, as I stared up at her pussy.

"That's a little tidbit for another day. But no worries, you'll know eventually and your secret is being guarded with the utmost care."

"Okay," I replied, at the moment not caring how she knew, just that she did know, and my submission was upon me. God, did I want to taste that pussy hovering over me.

"Hungry?" she asked, either reading my mind or reading the lust on my face.

"Yes," I answered, unable to break my gaze away from her pussy, even as I mindlessly extended my tongue like a submissive in heat.

"How hungry?"

"Let me show you," I said, leaning towards her, not pretending for a moment I wasn't ready to give myself to her completely. I'd already written countless 'should-I-shouldn't-I' contemplations; I knew where they all led: and that was to the same place I wanted this one to lead.

"Lie down," she ordered sternly.

"Yes, Mistress," and I quickly obeyed, realizing only after the title had automatically popped out of my mouth that I'd addressed her as my Mistress.

"You're just like the submissive characters in your stories," she mused.

I responded with a phrase I'd first encountered in a creative writing class, "Write what you know."

"And do you know how to please a teen Mistress?" she asked.

"I've never done it in real life," I admitted, "but I feel my years of crafting the details of my fantasies have prepared me to be the perfect pet."

"Do I remind you of Bree?" she asked, my most popular teen Mistress, with fifteen stories written in my Lesbian MILF Seductress series.

"Very much so," I admitted, as she did have many of the qualities Bree had: she was young, pretty, dominant, confident.

"I love nylons too," she said, as she moved a foot to my mouth. As I eagerly sucked on her nylon-clad toes, another fantasy on my bucket list I could check off, one I'd written about in many stories throughout the years, she continued, "They're sexy, feminine, and they showcase my legs and feet."

I replied with a chuckle, "Now you're quoting me," then moaned as I went back to sucking on her silky sheer nylon-clad toes... this act as her submissive was just as humiliating and exhilarating as I'd imagined it to be the many times I'd written about it in my stories.

I sucked on each of her toes, sometimes more than one at a time.

She switched to her other foot and said, "I expect you to write this story too, Ms. 'Jasmine' Walker."

"Of course, Mistress," I replied, knowing I'd gladly be writing a marathon story to recapture the thrill of this submission.

"And I want it with pictures, like your Cheerleader Moms story," she continued her expectations as I sucked on a toe.

"Of course," I agreed.

"And it had better be hot," she added.

"Aren't mine always hot?" I asked coyly.

"Yes, they are," she laughed softly. As I resumed sucking each toe.

Once all ten toes had been worshipped, she moved her foot away and said, "Good, pet teacher."

"Thank you, Mistress," I replied, eager for the opportunity to eat that pussy. The pussy I craved.

"Have a good night, Ms. Walker," she said, as she slipped back into her heels.

"That's it?" I asked, surprised and disappointed.

"For now," she said. "A good pet must earn the privilege of eating my pussy."

"Yes, Mistress," I said, my disappointment obvious.

"Don't worry, you eager little slut," she said. "I'm not chintzy with my pussy, and neither are many of the other girls here. But first you need to prove your obedience."

"I'll do anything," I said quickly, hoping to convince her to let me please her now.

"I know you will," she said, "but tonight, another teacher pet will have dinner between my legs."

"Who?" I asked.

"I don't dominate and tell," she said, "at least not until it's time to tell you some more," opening the door and walking out, leaving it wide open.

I quickly got off the floor in case someone walked by... or came in.

I shook my head at what had just transpired. On the one hand, she'd played that little submission ritual perfectly. She'd pulled me deeper into obedience, yet also left me desperate and wanting more.

But I was frustrated as hell.

I went back to my own room, hopped onto my bed with my vibrator and fucked myself to multiple orgasms, the entire time imaging Sarah using me, putting me through my paces.

Once I recovered from my pleasuring I had dinner, which was indeed anti-climactic, especially knowing someone else was having the dinner I really wanted. and I opened the file where I'd begun writing a new story. It had no title yet, but it was going to be part of my Jasmine Fantasies series... even though this was the one that was true.

However, I didn't start writing. Instead I started working on selecting and adapting the right models for the story I was now living. I needed ones that looked like Sarah, Zoe and myself... but also ones that looked like Amber, Madam Monroe and many of the other students who I figured were part of this growing lesbian hierarchy.

It took all night just to get Sarah, Zoe and myself. Choosing the model, and playing with the hair, the eyes, the body (especially the tits, ass and pussy) was time consuming... but fun.

The next day was uneventful.

No pictures.

No nothing.

That night I selected and fine tuned the rest of the models, again taking hours at it, and I still didn't have any pictures yet, other than sample photos of each character.

Next day at lunch I was called to Madam Monroe's office; I was terrified.

Did she know?

Did it matter? I already knew about her, and there was no doubt that her secret was safe with me.

That said, it was just a check in about the semester so far and her asking if I had any needs. I wanted to say I really needed to eat a pussy right now... even hers perhaps... but I wasn't that brazen. I probably wouldn't get in trouble with her, but most likely I'd get in Dutch with Sarah for taking such a giant step without her guidance.

I went to my classroom and saw Sarah sitting on top of the table where my grading usually went. She warned me, "You may wish to close the door."

I did and locked it before saying, "We can't do anything during school hours."

"Mrs. Parker, Ms. Appleby, Mrs. Scribante and Madam Monroe would all disagree with you," she smiled, as her heel dangled on her foot.

"They've all succumbed?" I asked, both surprised and yet not really, based on Sarah's seductive persona.

"Of course," she said, before adding, "you're the last remaining holdout."

"I'm not holding out," I pointed out, approaching her and lowering myself to my knees.

"I know you're not, sweetie," she smiled, then ordered, "Remove my heels."

"Yes, Mistress," I obeyed, no longer caring that I was in my classroom and other people could be just outside the door.

"You really are a natural submissive," she said, as I slipped off her heels.

"I always have been," I said.

"But never to a teen?" she asked as she repositioned herself, now offering me a glorious view of her pussy.

"Only in nighttime fantasies and fiction," I answered.

"Well, that will change fairly soon," she promised. "But for now, I just want you to worship my feet again."

"Yes, Mistress," I obeyed, excited to lick the salty sweat from her soles.

"I expect complete obedience from my pets," she said, as I licked the soles of her feet. "You understand that, right?"

"Just like Mistress Bree," I responded.

"Exactly," she nodded as she watched me worship her feet. "She was quite the inspiration for me when I was an aspiring mistress."

"Do you have many pets?" I asked, wanting to know more.

"All the teachers here now that you're joining the fold, the janitor, a dozen students and growing, and back home, my elder sister and my mother," she listed off.

"Your mom?" I asked, intrigued yet not surprised.

"Just like you, the idea of incest really turns me on," she said.

"In fantasy," I pointed out.

"You don't want to be Zoe's pet?" she asked.

I paused.

Part of me did indeed.

Another part of me most certainly did not.

Horny me wanted to bury my face in my daughter's pussy and be a superb Mommy-pet for her.

Moral me knew that I needed to be a responsible mother. There were lines a mother didn't cross... even if they turned her on immensely.

"I know, I know," she said, again reading my mind, "you have conflicting emotions. Morals versus libido."

"I'm a mother first," I said.

"You're a sexual being first," she countered, "which is something you were at least nine months before you had a child, and likely long before that." And I'm not just saying that because you've been sexually active. A track record of over four hundred stories and counting, many of them hot as blazes, says that your sexuality is one of your core values.

"But everything changes when you have a child," I pointed out.

"Plus, there is nothing more special than the bond between a daughter and her mother," she added.

"I agree," I nodded, knowing that all we had was each other.

"And there's nothing better than expressing that love," she added.

"You know very well that I find that argument a compelling one in my stories, but here and now? I'm not sure," I answered, it also being no secret that the idea was really turning me on.

"I am sure," she said, just as the warning bell rang.

She hopped off the table and put her heels back on and someone needed to open the locked door.

I quickly got off my knees and went to my desk as Sarah went to open the door. I asked, "What are we going to say?"

"If asked, that you were helping me study," she shrugged as she opened the door.

A few more days went by, including a weekend where Sarah flew home to visit her family, and I had a couple conversations with my daughter, although I couldn't broach any part of the discussion I really wanted to have. I also wrote a draft of the first month of this story... although the longer Sarah made me wait to service her... to become a fulltime pet... the crazier I was getting.

Then three days before Homecoming, Sarah left me a note saying to remain in my classroom after school.

Again, she had me worship her feet.

Again she didn't allow me to service her cunt.

But after twenty minutes of licking her feet while she texted on her phone, she said, "I'm very pleased with you, you know. I don't let you serve my pussy, which is obviously what you want more than anything, yet without any complaint you do whatever I tell you. Tomorrow you'll be rewarded for your obedience."

"Thank you, Mistress," I said, excited to finally be able to eat that pussy and actively become the submissive slut I craved to be.

"Be in the gymnasium change room at precisely noon," she instructed.

"Okay," I said, tomorrow being Saturday and hopefully the school would be empty.

"Okay, what?" she asked, suddenly tersely.

"Okay, Mistress Sarah," I quickly corrected myself.

She then walked out, and I went back to my room trying to ignore the fire inside, and wrote more of my Jasmine Fantasies story, praying that tomorrow I'd finally have a hot continuation for this story.

All morning I was giddy.... I was finally going to eat some teen pussy.

Sarah's teen pussy.

I dressed in a pair of mocha thigh highs, sans underwear including no bra, and a dress that would give easy access to my pussy, should that be in the cards.

The school was empty.

I'm wasn't even convinced Sarah would be there.

Yet as I walked into the locker room, a light was already turned on.

I walked in and got another surprise of my life.

First, Sarah wasn't there.

Second, Tamara and Rose were. Each of them more or less naked.

Third, Tamara had a cock. Not a strap-on. It was a real flesh-and-blood cock that was currently residing in Rose's mouth.

This was even better... she was a shemale, and she was also black.

Rose looked so hot bobbing on that cock.

I began taking off my dress as if I'd been instructed to, figuring they'd both known to expect me and likely had a game plan.

"You're very observant," Tamara smiled, before adding, "yes, remove your dress, Ms. Walker."

"You sure?" I asked, even though I'd already begun to obey.