Teacher Pet

I teach Drama and Media studies at the local school. Being out of University for only two years. the older pupils are not much younger than me. However, I am good at my job, my lessons are interesting, so I encounter very few problems. I liked to think I was pretty, and wore my hair in a pony tail, which, I believed, made me look young. I certainly turned heads.

At Uni, I knew that I had a reputation of not being the hardest student to get into bed, and I was a bit freaky, fond of spanky type sex and oral. This had little detrimental effect on my popularity. None of my relationships led anywhere though, mainly because I wanted someone manly and forceful, and what I normally got was eager to please young boys. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but I knew I hadn’t found it.

At school, I had a yen for Paul, the PE teacher, well muscled, strong, good looking, but married with two children. We still became quite good friends.

Finally though, one day I got him into an empty classroom when most of the school had gone home, pulled down his track suit, and gave him a blow job to remember. Then he turned me over, lifted my skirt, removed my panties, and pushed his cock into my anus, whilst I moaned in ecstasy, and exhorted him to wallop my arse. Then suddenly he pulled out, and said ”Liz, this is crazy, we are risking our jobs and careers, and more importantly, my family. I like you a lot, but I love my wife. Let’s just be good pals”.

I was so disappointed, but I knew he was right, so we dressed quickly and resumed our previous relationship. It had not escaped my notice, either, that although he had been happy to go along, I was leading. If anyone was being raped, it wasn’t me!

A little while later, with half term looming, and a relaxing week off to come, one of my pupils called Jeff, asked at the end of the day if he could discuss some work he was doing. So, when everyone else had left, we sat at a desk, and he inserted a video into the player. To my horror, there were Paul and I, in full flow, complete with sound track, but stopping just before Paul ended the action. How he had managed to film it so clearly I didn’t know, but that was irrelevant.

“Don’t panic“,  he said, “I am sure no-one else need se it, but perhaps we should go to your house and discuss it”. In a daze, I led him out to my car, and drove him the short distance to my house, took him inside and we sat down.

“Obviously, you would rather I didn’t post this on the web, or distribute copies at school, so shall we discuss an alternative”. I just nodded weakly, and he continued. “I perceive some submissive tendencies here, and I know how good you are at Drama, so let’s combine your skills”.

As he spoke, so sure of himself, so much in charge, I thought that his blackmail wouldn’t work, not because I would call his bluff, but because I was beginning to experience strong feelings, and was not going to argue, whatever he said, without the need for blackmail. I did not give voice to my feelings, since I suspected his masterful words were because he felt he had a hold over me.

He outlined his ideas which were  for me to write a play, about a submissive, with a starring role for both of us. The dialogue was to be my concern, but he stressed that it would need to be strong. I would be expected to involve myself fully in my role. Then he told me that, like all good writers, I was to research the subject in depth, using the web, visiting sex shops in the nearby city, asking for advice, and purchasing the necessary equipment. He gave me the name and telephone number of a friend (Steve), who was a handyman, and said he would spend time with me installing equipment in my home. Fortunately I had one clear week of half term to do a thorough research job. I would be allowed two weeks, then we would have opening night, and as long as he thought I was giving total commitment to my role, my secret was safe with him

I realised instantly that I had no alternative, for all sorts of reasons, and meekly agreed to cooperate.

A further warning that he was looking for extreme role play, with all the best ideas from bdsm and similar sites, and that on the Friday I was to give him a folded sheet of paper, inviting him, in my own submissive words, to visit me on the Saturday morning, and I was to lead the conversation when he arrived, as my literary effort unfolded, and he would extemporise to follow my lead. His final words as he left were “Do not disappoint me”.
As he disappeared down the path I just sat on the settee. The turn of events was so unexpected and sudden, I could hardly think. I  mused on his comment about my submissive tendencies, not a new thought for me. I had to face the fact it was going to happen, and I was determined there would be no failure on my part to please him, and certainly no excuse for using the video.

Yes, he was a pupil, but he was 18, he would be leaving at the end of term, and I didn’t expect to be found out. I realised that I yearned to be controlled, and he had left me in no doubt that control would be what I got. So I determined to follow my instincts.

There being no time like the present, I switched on my computer, and started surfing. There were thousands of sites, with pictures of girls in bondage, usually with collars and gags, and being spanked, even caned. No shortage of inspiration there. I also found details of bondage suppliers, one in the nearby city. I thought I had better start there.

When I found the shop, the young girl at the counter was very helpful, when I said I was a novice submissive. “You will need a collar like mine, she  said, revealing herself as not unfamiliar with submission. She found one with rings round the outside, (for attaching things, she added helpfully).

Then I tried on a number of gags, “the more uncomfortable the better”, said my mentor. I, or we really, chose a spreader gag, a penis gag, and a ball gag. Restraints of various kinds, including handcuffs, a leash, and a blindfold were added to my basket.

“Now “ said this helpful young lady, “some punishment”. She added a paddle, a flogger, which looked fearsome but was, I was assured , not as bad as it looked, a riding crop, and a cane. When it was all added up, I thought bang goes this year’s holiday. 

“Have you thought of some piercings“, I was asked. “Come out the back and see mine”. In the little office at the back she pulled up her jumper to display rings through her nipples, then lifted her skirt, (no panties, of course,) to show me two more through her cunt lips. They hurt a bit when they are done and can be sore for a couple of weeks, but it’s worth it, I was assured. She then gave me a card for the place she used. “Tell them I sent you,” she said. I noticed, but made no comment, when she lifted her skirt, that she had no pubic hair. I expressed some apprehension, but this young girl, five or six years younger than me, said, “Don’t worry, giving up control to another is the most wonderful experience, and the sex is cosmic. And of course there is as always  the safe word to fall back on“. I had read about safe words, but somehow doubted I would have that luxury. “If you do have them done, you will need some weights, so come back“, was her parting shot..

In for a penny, I said to myself, and walked round and had the piercings done. I was a bit uncomfortable that it was a man carrying them out, but he was quite blasé, made me lie down, swabbed each area to avoid infection, inserted a large needle, and then the rings I had picked out. I had copied the ones I had been shown earlier. I went back to the shop, and we went in the small room and I showed her my piercings. She picked out some weights of various sizes, on hooks which would go through the rings. I was warned not to try them until my piercings had healed.

When I got home, I shaved myself as the young girl had done, undressed, and looked at myself in my long mirror, the very model of a submissive, I felt.  Then I put away all my purchases, and went to bed, where I played with myself for a while, before falling asleep.

Next day, I rang the friend, Steve, whose number I had been given. He agreed to call on Monday morning, then I did some more research. I found some story sites and checked up on the jargon in the bdsm scene, which took quite some time, and also looked at more girls in bondage photos, with special attention to the devices used.

When Steve arrived, he handed me a note from Jess. It just said, “two conditions, all panties to be thrown away, and no skirts below the knee“. It wasn’t even signed!

I was relieved that Steve was a few years older than me, and not another pupil!

Jess then asked what I had in mind, and I showed him some photos on the net. One was of a girl suspended by her wrists from the ceiling, and then by her ankles. There  was a spanking bench, like a saw horse, and two crosses, the larger being a St Andrews Cross against the wall, the other had a girl seated, her waist tied to the upright, and her upper arms strapped to a crossbeam. “That’s a start”, he said, ”where do you want them?” That had concerned me. I expressed worry that anyone visiting should see them, although my through lounge was the obvious place. “No worry”, I was assured, “ I can hide the pulley thing and the big cross, and the others will be portable”.

He started immediately, and I went to see my doctor, as I somehow doubted condoms would figure very much, and got a supply of pills, which I started on straight away, just in case.

I gave Steve lunch, tea and coffee, and at the end of the day I could see things beginning to take shape. He went to leave, about six, then said, “I was told to check on the panties thing, and throw them away myself.” I had during the afternoon emptied my drawers and the laundry basket, and put them in a large bag, so I handed it over. “ Then he said “what about the ones you are wearing?” I had, of course forgotten that pair, so I had to take them off and hand them to Steve.

That evening, I stripped naked, to get in the mood, and did more research.

Early next morning the spanking bench was ready, and  had to be tried. “Get your kit off”, I was told. When I queried that, I was told field trials had to be authentic. So I stripped, and was put across the bench, with my wrists and ankles strapped to the four corners. He gave me a few playful spanks, and let me up. When I said it was not very comfortable, I was told it wasn’t built for comfort.

He showed me his plans to build the large cross behind a false wall, which would fold back, and to place the pulleys on the beams which crossed the ceiling, in two boxes. There would also be some hooks, which would appear innocuous. Neither would be ready until the middle of next week.

The other cross was soon ready, and again it was “get your kit off” time. I sat on a wooden chair, and my collar was forced up end lowered on to a hook. Without using hands it was impossible to get off. My upper arms were placed in two straps each fixed to the cross beam, so although my arms were free from the elbows, they were useless. One little refinement I had not known about, was that my two cunt rings were snapped into clips, pulling them apart, and at the same time keeping me firmly down on the chair. This time Steve gave my tits a slapping, which I had to accept.

Soon it was back to school, my skirts a little shorter, but not much, which occasioned little comment. I did, though, have to be very careful  when sitting down at my desk. At lunch time Jeff surreptitiously motioned me to stay as the class rushed out. Then as I stood, he held his hands out face up, and bent his fingers. I quickly raised my skirt to prove I had no panties on. This was repeated several times during the week.

First it was the cross. I had to admit it was beautifully done. With he settee in front it just looked like wood panelling, but when it was moved, the doors folded to reveal the cross. I was tied to it, front and back, my arms and legs spread, totally vulnerable. Steve played with my rings, and slapped my rear with a little more force than before.

Then, at last, the piece de resistance. The pulleys were uncovered by snapping off the covers. Then a complicated set of ropes which allowed each arm, or leg, to be stretched towards the pulley by tugging on a single rope. Steve was adamant that my ankles were to go first, so I laid on the floor while the ropes were tied to my ankle restraints, then he slowly lifted me in the air. Soon my head was clear, then my arms no longer reached the floor, and I was suspended, legs held wide apart. Steve slapped me between the legs, then on my buttocks. In fact he kept me there for some time, and by the time I was gently lowered, the blood was rushing to my head. Then my wrists were attached, and I was hoisted off the floor. He was not happy that my ankles were held sufficiently tight, so he let me down, and went out to get a spreader bar which was adjustable, and held my legs well apart. He felt all round my breasts, and then gave me a few more slaps on the rear, before pronouncing himself satisfied. Then he gave me the bill for the work, which fortunately I had enough money in the bank to cover. Then he was gone, my room was back to normal, and I had one more evening to prepare my note for Friday.

What I finally wrote was

My Master

Your obedient slave earnestly desires the honour of serving you on Saturday from 8.30 am, until you tire of me. My whole body belongs to you, and I trust you will enjoy the servitude I will give to you.

Your  property

Slave Liz

As he left my class for the last time that Friday, I casually handed it to him. He didn’t even look at it.

Surfing the web was opening new horizons for me. As well as searching for ideas, I was also very aroused by some of the images, and practiced, as far as I could, many of the positions. I admitted to myself finally that I was actually looking forward to Saturday, with an almost unbearable impatience. I found it difficult to think of what to say, and then had the inspiration to let my body do the talking. I spent all Friday evening working out what I wanted, and what I could, and couldn’t do.

On Saturday I was up at six, took off my nightie, and cleared it away, with all my other clothes. No clothing was to be visible. After a quick breakfast, and a tidy up, I began. The front door was on the latch, and I closed the door to the lounge. First I opened the panelling, and arranged Steve’s handiwork. Then I placed the paddle, cane etcetera on the floor, in front of where I intended  to be. Everything else which was not part of my plan,(such as two of the gags, my ankle restraints and my trusty dildo) was laid out neatly on the sofa.

My collar was the beginning. I had found one site dedicated to body writing, which I found intriguing

And had decided that this is how I would say what had to be said. I had a marker pen, and wrote “cock” across under my nose, and “hole” across under my mouth. Then I wrote “Please use me” above my breasts. Then below my navel, across my stomach, I wrote “Jeff’s cunt” and an arrow pointing down. None was original, but I thought they were the best I had seen. Then I took all the things I would need and placed them within easy reach.

My ankles were first, which I tied using the leather restraints attached to the spreader bar Steve had bought. I pushed them as far apart as I could, and got down on my knees. Then I took two of the larger weights, and hooked them through my cunt rings, pulling them down, and hanging between my legs. I placed nipple clamps on the end of my nipples, joined by a chain. The next part was my own. I had discovered that the other set of nipple clamps could be clipped inside my nose, which was painful but bearable. By taking that chain under the breast chain, I lifted my tits. Then I tied my pony tail to the back of my collar. This lifted my head, and my tits. Then I pushed my vibrator into my cunt, and switched it on. The whole thing was finished with the spreader gag, which pulled my mouth open wide, placing quite a strain on my jaws, a blindfold, and then I managed to put on the handcuffs, around the spreader bar. The key to the handcuffs I had placed on the ground in front of me.

It took longer than you would think, but I was ready by 8.15. I would know he was there when the lounge door was opened.

By 8.40, my discomfort was getting severe, particularly the back of my thighs and my jaws. I had a moments panic, what if he decides not to come? I could never release myself. Then the door opened, and I waited for him to speak. When he did, it was not to me. “So, how does the pulley thing work then?” I heard him say. Then I heard Steve explaining. One, I had not counted on two of them, and secondly, how humiliating is it, to be on view, spread out in the most lewd manner imaginable, and to be totally ignored? But as I knelt there in darkness, I remembered the words from the bondage shop,

“Don’t worry, giving up control to another is the most wonderful experience, and the sex is cosmic“. And I thought, yes, it is exciting to have no control.

At last, they acknowledged me. My blindfold was removed, and my master said “Very good, I see you didn’t need a script. I will take it from here, You do nor need to speak unless ordered to, except, whatever is done to you, and by whom, you will always say “Thank you, sir, or to me Thank you master“. You are pleased to see Steve, aren’t you, I thought he deserved some reward after all his hard work, and he knows how everything works. Just nod if you are pleased to se him. I nodded, which was quite painful, restrained as I was. I looked at Steve to see him videoing me.

Steve released the handcuffs and the spreader bar, and the vibrator was extracted, leaving everything else in place. Then it was play time. I knew what would be first. My hands were clipped to my collar, I was made to sit, and my ankle restraints were put on and attached to the pulley ropes. Up went my legs, and then I was dangling, still with all my awkward bindings. My mouth was just the right height, and was, of course, wide open.  They took turn and turn about, pushing their cocks in my mouth, as I frantically used my tongue, while the other stood behind me, spanking me, and then using the flogger on my unprotected cunt. My next experience was to be suspended by my wrists, with one cock in my

cunt, and one in my arse. And all the time the video recorded it all.

After all that exertion, they needed a rest. I had put some cans of beer on the side, and they sat and drank, before releasing me, changing my gag for a ball gag, which at least caused less strain on my jaws, although it would not be described as comfortable. and then strapping me down on the spanking bench. They started with their hands, then the paddle, then the crop and finally the cane. By the time they reached the cane stage, I was so sore, I wasn’t sure I could take any more, but I discovered that when you are given no choice, you can take quite a lot. Before caning me, the gag was removed, so I could count out the strokes, and say thank you after each one. They were in no hurry, and more beer was consumed  over the forty minutes or so they took to give me six strokes each.  The pauses made remembering the number of strokes more difficult, but fortunately I made no mistakes.

I was well used, as they say, all morning, then they sat in front of the television to watch the sport. My role was to crawl from one to the other, usually in response to a tug on the leash attached to my collar, keeping them both happy while they watched. So I sat on laps and took cocks in my cunt and my arse, I sucked, I bent over so they could put fingers, even hands inside me. At least all my restraints except my collar had been removed, to make me more efficient, as my master said. Then Steve left, and things changed. I was actually cuddled, and stroked, and eventually taken to bed where we made love like two sane people, and slept in each other’s arms.

In the morning I made breakfast and took it into the bedroom. When we had eaten I was given some ground rules. My tights were to go the way of my panties, but I could wear stockings. My skirts were to test the limits of the school dress code, and my heels were to increase from fairly low as I wore them now, to noticeably high. In fact all my wardrobe in future would be purchased by me, but chosen by him. He and Steve would have one day each at the weekend, and I was to obey Steve in all things as I did him. They would both bring friends round, but, a concession, they would ensure they were not  known to me. I was always to ensure that the fridge was stocked with lager, and would usually be required to feed whoever came.

He was delighted with the writing on my skin,. especially Jeff’s Cunt and the arrow, and had decided to have that replaced with a tattoo on Monday evening. For the rest of the morning, he tried out the equipment, and me. Every piece of restraint, every gag, every instrument of pain was used in turn, some several times.

When he left, taking every pair of tights I owned with him, I sunk onto the settee, drained. I was lost, and I knew it. But also I had arrived home. I hoped he would never ask me to teach naked, because I knew I would obey. I would obey Steve, and the other people who came round, because Jeff wanted me to. And I would cheerfully accept the tattoo. He was my master, and I was indeed Jeff’s cunt.

For the rest of term I was in a whirl,. Seeing my master in the classroom was a bitter sweet sensation. I raised my skirt, showing not just my shaved cunt, but my tattoo,  whenever told to. There were generally three people to serve each weekend, and I tried my best to please them all. My skirts got shorter, although just decent, my heels higher, and I wore stockings and suspenders.

My days with Steve each weekend were strange. Every week he would add to the collection of devices he had made, usually with one or two friends to help him. It was an absorbing hobby, and I was his guinea pig. Sometimes I thought he was hardly aware of me.

He went through a phase of living furniture. I would be made to kneel on all fours, and a large tray would be strapped to my back. Then drinks and food would be placed on the tray and I had to keep the ‘table’ level. Or I would be made to stand by the wall, wrists to elbows behind my back, and a tray hanging from chains from my collar. A third refinement was to strap a piece of metal to my head, which ended in a lampshade, turning me into a standard lamp. And finally, I would lie down on my back, my legs bent back over my head, and tied to my wrists. In this position my cunt was fully exposed, and the lamp was inserted, hey presto, a table lamp. He also used light candles, so I was burned with hot wax. Then he went back to more new equipment.

The first new thing he built was fairly simple. It was a hinged box which fitted snugly over my head, with a hole at the bottom only just big enough for my neck. The top was perforated, to let in air, but I could see nothing, nor move my head. In front of my mouth was a large hole. I was made to kneel, with my hands actually handcuffed to the back of the box. When he fitted the contraption we were alone, but in the two hours I knelt in the box, three cocks were inserted in the hole, and I sucked each of them as vigorously as I could, until they came, and I drank down their cum. None ever spoke, so I was completely unaware of whose cocks I had been servicing.

Another inspiration which took some time, was to build a turntable on the wall behind and in the centre of the St Andrew’s cross, which enabled him to rotate me, with stops all round so I could be held at any position around the circle.

One of my favourites started as a low platform, about four or five inches off the ground, and four and a half feet long, on which I was made to stand. At each end was a square hole, into which were placed grooved planks which fitted snugly. Then a flat board was inserted from the top, down the grooves, with cut outs on top for my neck  and wrists. The plank could be set at any height, by screws threaded from the outside. Then a further plank was lowered on top, encasing my neck and wrists totally. The two planks were then padlocked together. Finally my ankles were stretched to be strapped to the bottom of the uprights. I could just reach, but if I had not been held, I would have fallen, so severe was the stretch. I could be standing, or bent at waist level.(the preferred option, it seemed). Once locked in, I as totally vulnerable, all three holes available for cocks, and my poor arse ready for any punishment. 

Another used a hook on the beam to support the two planks worn horizontally across my shoulders, with my legs then raised, and spread out in front of me, also suspended from the ceiling.

However, he worst was the simplest. It was just a piece of pin board, two feet by nine inches. But what I was required to do was difficult. I was unrestrained, as I knelt before a table with the board under my tits. Then I had to pull them across the board by the rings, and hold them steady, whilst large pins like the ones used for injections in the hospitals, were used to staple my tits to the board. The pins went through my breasts and my nipples, causing agony, and I was made to hold my rings steady, and though my hands were otherwise free, not in any way to hinder the operation. Then I had to walk round with the board held up by the pins. I shed more tears over that board than all my canings and whippings.

With my master, it was different. He used all Steve’s equipment, but I knew I was centre stage. He fucked me in every way known to man, he punished me unmercifully, but he enjoyed me, and I worshipped him.

Sometimes we would go out shopping. He chose, I paid. We even went together to the bondage shop, where we bought a leather hood, mittens which fully trapped my hands, and a whip. The young girl (Rose, I discovered), said her master was there, and introduced us to him as Ray.. He and Jeff chatted, Jeff told Ray about Steve’s handiwork, and suddenly they were invited the following Sunday.

When they arrived, I was a table lamp, and was ignored while Ray used the various pieces of my  equipment on Rose. When I was allowed to join in I was called upon to crawl through between Rose’s outstretched legs, and use my tongue inside her. We were tied together on the pulley, facing each other with our breast and cunt rings tied to each other, and our ankles fixed to the same spreader bar,  and the two masters gave us a good caning and whipping, both switching from slave to slave. Jerking in pain, as we had to at times, pulled unmercifully on the rings. Steve called in and he and Ray had a good chat, and the possibility of selling some of his pieces was mooted.

And sometimes we would make love, sometimes quite tenderly.

At some stage Master and Steve agreed to work together full time making equipment, and I began to realise, from hints, that Master’s last term would be the end of my teaching career. I gathered that soon I would be discreetly advertised on the net, and would serve my master by serving other lovers of BDSM.

Then came the end of term. The previous evening I went out with some friends, they gave me a vase, and told me I would be missed. I knew it would not change a great deal, as I was not asked but told, but I was shocked when he announced the next day, the last day of term, that on Saturday there would be a party for about ten of his friends. He informed me that he party would be at my house, and he knew I would be a sensation. On Saturday morning I was to buy plenty of filled rolls and cakes, and make sure the fridge was full, but not too full, no-one was to get drunk.

He would be picking them all up in a small coach outside the school at 6 pm. Steve would prepare me, as he put it, at the same time. I was to ensure that I was well shaved, and not to let him down in front of his friends. They would be told that they would have the time of their lives, but they were not ever to say what happened, and there was to be no drunkenness, he wanted everyone in control. He said “of themselves as well as you!”

I was fully ready when Steve arrived, and he soon had me upside down on the pulley, hands handcuffed behind my back, blindfolded and ball gagged, and with heavy weights pulling my breasts down to the floor, (or up to my face), before closing the door and leaving.

When the door opened, I regretted the blindfold. I had to imagine the expression on their faces when they entered the room, to see their Drama teacher suspended so invitingly before them. Master then told them they had free use of me for the evening, and had great pride in showing off the tattoo. There was some hesitancy among some at first, but soon I was being spanked, caned, fucked, my nipples pulled, and I was sucking for the Olympics.

Master acted as MC, and guided them through to make sure that even the inexperienced ones among them knew what to do. By now “Thank you sir“, was automatic, I think I muttered it in my sleep, but they thought filling my mouth or cunt with cum, and being thanked, was hilarious. In particular, the irony of using a cane on a teacher was a great success, and by the end of the evening, my buttocks were  striped and very sore.

When they had all gone, Master took me to bed, soothed my pain and held me close, and I thought, now for the next chapter in my life, serving my Master.