S.O.L. Games: Pet Teachers part 2/2 by SKOLL

A literotic sexstories: S.O.L. Games: Pet Teachers part 2/2 by SKOLL ,

Non-Chronological, episodic stories inspired by the anime “Euphoria”, the book “Battle Royal”, the show “Squid Games”, etc. In this one, the game is similar to Simon Says and dog training. Choice is driven by desire to command authority figures, two mean milf teachers. Longer, more extreme chapter, least reluctant choice of this Level.

DON’T START AT THIS CHAPTER!This is kind of like a choose your own adventure:

-Start by reading the Prologue and one or more Level 1 chapters in any order (Jump Ropes, Floor is Lava, Pet Teachers)

-Then read one or more Level 2 chapters in any order (Web Design, Teacher Taut, Chemistry, Tug of War)

-Then read one or more Level 3 chapters in any order (Hide & Seek, Pencil Sharpener, Anatomy, Dodgeball)

-And so on. More to come!

See the link in my profile to get ALL my stories in eBook and audiobook formats!

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DISCLAIMERS

In this series, I write from the perspective of the VILLAIN. That means I don’t agree with his choices, and you’re not supposed to either. We’re all acknowledging he is evil and wrong. Obviously nothing he does should ever be done in real life! Please be mature adults and separate fantasy from reality. This SHOULD evoke visceral, icky feelings. That’s the POINT. This is HORROR.

This is more PORN than PLOT.

All characters are 18+.This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to events, locales, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

FETISHES/WARNINGS

-Non-con/Abuse/Violence/Male-dom

-Gross bodily fluids / bad smells

-Pissing / Watersports

-Analingus

-Bondage Gags

-Electrocution

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Pet Teachers Part 2/2

I stand by the window, looking out over the gorgeous beach, watching waves tumble onto the sandy shore. From my second floor vantage point, I gaze out at the island paradise. I don’t know how this is possible, but I’m starting to really enjoy it. A perfect replica of my school. Teachers and students abducted, forced to take part in a twisted game. All at my mercy.

I turn around, naked, taking in my surroundings once more. Room 201, Mrs. Mandal’s art room. Long tables, covered in years of dried paint. The teacher’s desk at the front. Sinks in the back. A TV in the corner.

And Aadya Mandal, the bitchy Indian teacher, sits cowering on the floor in the center of the room. Her mane of black hair a complete mess after taking my cock down her throat. Her dusky skin, so sensual, a bit of perspiration glistening across her thick figure. She’s completely topless, her arms wrapped around her large tits in an attempt at modesty. Pants still hanging down below her butt, she hugs her knees to her chin, trembling.

Nearby, Lori Wilson, the prudish religious studies teacher, sits back on her heels in a slouched kneeling position. Defeated. Her short auburn hair is greased with my cum. Sexy freckles dancing across her exposed chest. White blouse and black shawl hang ripped open in the front. Her fingers absentmindedly toying with the crucifix pendant on her necklace. Dark nylons hug her legs, accenting every motherly curve.

Both women wear metal collars, tight around their necks. Devices to keep them obedient. And their pretty mouths are stretched wide by bondage ring gags. Lips forced in lustful ‘O’ shapes.

But my eyes are already fixated on something else. The TV screen in the corner of the room. My thumb on the remote, casually browsing for a new activity. Boop. The TV indicates my choice.

The Announcer’s innocent voice resonates across the room, “New command. When you hear the following sound, you must crawl on hands and knees and perform analingus on the other female.” A strange 8-bit thump sound effect is assigned to this task. Analingus. Both women freeze where they are, a look of confusion obvious on their faces. It’s like when a teacher throws you a curve-ball on a test. Something they didn’t really go over, but now you’re expected to know it. I smile. I’m sure the ladies can figure it out.

I input the commands. A symphony of silly video game sounds. Aadya’s sound effect, bloop bloop, followed by the analingus sound, thump. Then Lori’s single bloop sound, followed by fellatio, doot. Aadya erupts into desperate pleading. Even with her gag in her mouth, I can tell she’s begging me to assign her the other way around. The ‘empowered feminist’ is begging for my cock. Anything but licking Lori’s dirty asshole. I smile and let her complain all she wants. She shakes her head back and forth wildly, which only makes her tits jiggle around before my eyes.

The counter starts beeping as the women continue to stall. But I notice something strange. Lori is reaching down for Aadya’s ass again. She got the sounds mixed up! She’s trying to do the wrong command. I stifle a laugh, enjoying the hysterical sight. She’s failing the sick game of Simon Says. She grabs at Mrs. Mandal’s naked butt, and Aadya screeches at her in anger, pushing her away. She tries again, and gets slapped by Aadya. The girls can’t form words, and in the confusion, their time is slipping away. They flail at each other, shrill voices squealing, hands slapping, shoving, clawing at each other in the growing panic. All on their knees, naked asses and tits wiggling and bouncing around lewdly.

“Command failed. Generating punishment.” That soothing voice is always such music to my ears. Ok what should we do this time? I flip through the TV menu. Oh that sounds interesting!

“Punishment assigned. The females must stand on a table. The male must determine how far apart the females’ feet are placed and then insert a paintbrush inside each female’s vagina. The females must remain standing in that position, and the brushes must not fall out for the entirety of the required time. Only the male may touch a brush. Failure will reset the clock. This task must be completed to continue the game. Remember, excessive disobedience may result in forfeit. Begin.” The TV shows three minutes required.

I look around for some paintbrushes. Not hard to find in an art room. I find some with fat cylindrical wooden handles. I grab a couple and return to the women. With a few hard pats on the ass, I urge them each to get themselves up on the nearest table. The long tables are sturdy and meant for all sorts of art activities. Coated with layers and layers of spilled paint, grime, and graffiti from years of use. The ladies stand near the edge, displaying themselves side by side. I take my time, admiring the sight. They look broken in and abused just like the table.

I quickly grab the scissors I used before and start preparing Aadya first. Lori had pulled her pants and thong down below her juicy ass, but stopped there. I reach up and start snipping away, cutting her maroon slacks down the middle, each half lazily left bunched down around an ankle. Then her panties, sliced clean off. I notice a slight yellow spot where she pissed herself earlier. The audacity. I toss them on the floor but leave her cute open-toed shoes on, enjoying the look, the way she wobbles around weakly in the raised heels.

I grab a paintbrush and reach up to begin working. Slide my hands up her smooth mocha thighs. Inspecting every inch of my art teacher up close finally. She stands quivering near the edge of the table, her cunt around eye level with me now. God damn Aadya really is sexy, isn’t she? A quick slap on her inner thigh tells her to get her feet further apart, then my hand reaches up to tug at her thick pubic hair. Trimmed, but barely. Black, fuzzy fur covers her entire crotch. Clean, but not very presentable. It seems so intentional. Another feminist statement maybe.

I sift my fingers through and find her her inner labia. Dark, near-black lips, hanging down a bit more than I’d prefer. I pinch at them, tug down painfully. Her body shifts in obvious humiliation. I notice the inside of her cunt is bright pink. Juxtaposed against the dark flesh on the outside, it almost resembles a charred piece of meat, rare and juicy on the inside.

Still pinching those meaty lips in one hand, I thrust upward suddenly with the other, jabbing the handle of the paintbrush straight into her hole. She yelps in pained surprise, but I clamp hard on her labia, not letting her escape. I shove as deep as it goes, burying the length inside her. I pump it in and out a few times, watching her fluids coat the handle. Then leave it shoved all the way in, only the bristles hanging out, almost blending in with her wild pubes.

Leaving the Indian teacher to quiver there, my attention shifts to Mrs. Wilson next to her. The red-head has been waiting obediently for her turn. Shirt completely torn down the front, tits propped up over her bra. Dark sheer tights cover her belly button, all the way down her shapely legs, with simple black flats covering her feet. So much that isn’t meant to be seen, by one of her students no less. I rub my hands up her smooth legs. The warmth, the soft squishiness. I could spend all day exploring these women. But we have a game to complete.

I slide my hand up between her thighs, and she presses them together instinctively trying to stop me. My hand forces its way up and gropes at her crotch, molesting her without a second thought about her discomfort. The heat she gives off is so arousing, but something else catches my attention. I think I’m feeling straight through to her folds. No panties? That’s probably pretty normal with these types of tights now that I think of it, the thicker fabric around the crotch probably functioning like underwear.

A paintbrush in hand, I pry her thighs apart, getting her feet in a wider stance on the tabletop. Then I start rubbing and teasing her pussy with the hard handle of the brush, flicking and tapping and sliding on her slit from over her tights. She squirms and grunts, but knows better than to protest. It’s clear she’s incredibly sensitive. The old Catholic hag thinks masturbation is a sin. And she and her husband must barely have a sex life. That’s probably why they had so many kids. That’s the only time they’re allowed to have fun. My movements are too harsh though. This isn’t enjoyable for her. The next part, even less so.

I hug her around the thighs tightly with one arm, preventing her from moving. All the rubbing has given me a good idea of where exactly her hole is, so without warning, I jam the brush straight up almost as hard as I can. Lori shrieks as the handle pierces through the thin pantyhose and buries deep into her cunt beneath. She writhes in pain and pushes at me with her hands. I just grab her wrists and watch her wiggle around, laughing quietly at her weak attempt to defend herself.

As the countdown on the TV starts beeping away, Lori calms down, slowly standing upright again. They must now both stay standing and keep the brushes inserted without touching them. But nothing in the rules say I can’t enjoy myself while we wait. I reach up and start pulling at the woman’s pantyhose, slowly widening the tiny hole made by the brush. The material shreds apart with little effort, slowly exposing Mrs. Wilson’s pussy.

Pale pink inner labia hangs out slightly from puffy outer lips. Everything’s a bit worn out looking. Raw. Showing her age. She doesn’t seem to shave at all. But like many red-heads, she naturally just doesn’t have a whole lot of hair. Just wispy red fuzz. Enough to add an unkempt nastiness to her.

And then the smell hits me. A thick musk. Just a bit too sharp. My nose wrinkles slightly from the sourness. The scent of a woman that doesn’t quite care to keep herself perfectly ready for a man. As if this is her private area. As if no one would be down here anyway.

I tear at her tights more, aggressively, the seam ripping all the way down her inner thighs. Then I reach around and slap at her now-bare ass, punishing her for assaulting my nose. Making her wobble and struggle to keep her balance and avoid falling off the edge of the table. The feel of her bare skin, that juicy ass on my palm, I need more of it. She squeals from her ring gag, humorously flailing her arms as my hand assaults her butt over and over. Cheeks becoming bright red. She almost falls off, barely regaining her balance at the last second. Then has to scramble to clench her pussy muscles as her paintbrush begins to slide down her cunt.

I make sure both teachers have sufficient space between their feet and then step back, holding the remote and considering my next move. The timer is about halfway and the two beauties are doing perfectly fine.

So I turn the difficulty up a notch, giving Aadya’s collar a quick little jolt of electricity. She’s caught completely off guard, letting out a yelp and stepping backward. But she resets herself to her previous position like a good bitch, so I send a shock to Lori. Her face scrunches up and she groans in pain, but she endures, determined. Back to Aadya, a longer jolt. She moans and shakes, then sobs continuously after I let go. Another shock to Mrs. Wilson. She tenses, then pants heavily afterward, starting to get pink all over. A sexy sheen of sweat building on both women.

A prolonged surge into Aadya’s collar sends her spasming, knees almost giving out. The same toward Lori. She starts screaming in tortured frustration, her entire body jiggling nicely. Both ladies on the verge of collapsing.

Incredible works of art, on display for me on the art room tables. Sweaty, moaning sculptures. Paintbrushes shoved up their hairy twats. Those pussies, beaten up and loosened over the years. But still they hang on, the game-like sounds of the timer finally hitting zero. The women collapse onto the table, tenderly pulling the brushes from their vaginas.

“Punishment complete. The timer for the previous command will now reset. Please continue,” the Announcer’s voice is always such a pleasant sound. I waste no time, getting the women in position for the activity so they don’t fuck it up again. I start placing Lori where I want her. Facedown, flat on her belly on the table, head dangling over the edge. Then Aadya, sobbing loudly. I have to slap her in the face a few times to snap her out of her crying hysteria, forcing her on hands and knees. Her dusky face hovering inches above her fellow teacher’s pale ass cheeks.

In this position, Lori’s face is at crotch level as I stand next to the table. And with her body straight, in a ‘planking’ position, her legs are pinched together. So Aadya hesitantly pries apart Lori’s butt cheeks, slowly accessing that nasty asshole within. She lowers her mouth toward it as I grab handfuls of Lori’s hair and lift her face in front of my groin.

Mrs. Mandal touches her wet tongue to the asshole just as I slam inside the mouth, straight through the gag ring. Mrs. Wilson reacts with wild protest. Shrill vocals muffled by my dick, Aadya helping me pin her squirming body down. By her reaction, it’s obvious she’s never experienced a tongue on her hairy butthole before. She hates it. Both ladies do.

I slam my dick all the way to the back in one go. Her gag holding her mouth open in the perfect little ‘O’ shape for me. My tip scraping against the roof of her mouth, coated in her warm spit. Her voice, such a pleasurable vibration as she screams onto my dick. To think, all the times this voice has yelled at students. Now look at her. Put to much better use.

Meanwhile, as soon as Aadya touches her tongue to the sphincter, she gags and recoils in utter disgust. Shakes her head and mumbles something incoherently. I can see well enough from my vantage point to know what’s wrong. The pubic hair. The stench. Mrs. Wilson is filthy. And why wouldn’t she be? How was she to know that someone would ever lick her dirtiest, most private spot? Who would ever dream of doing something so ungodly? So sinful!

I zap Aadya’s collar. She squeals in pain and then continues licking Lori’s asshole. My cock pumping slowly in and out of the face. Lori’s squeals of anger and humiliation turn to messy slurping sounds. Coughing. Gagging. I’m careful to reel back so as not to make her puke. I don’t want to have to smell that. Or what Aadya is smelling either. I laugh to myself, shaking my head in disbelief at the sheer depravity of all this. My art teacher, the sexy Indian feminist, hands holding ass cheeks apart, face buried between them. Flicking her little tongue out from a BDSM gag, licking the unclean asshole of her racist coworker. I pump my hips casually, watching her go at it.

Lori’s little silver cross necklace dangles from her neck, my balls slapping against it as I fuck her face. A few more minutes and it’s clear that if we keep going like this much longer one of them is going to throw up. I decide to move on, grabbing the remote and browsing for more ways to abuse my teachers.

“New command. When you hear the following sound, you must crawl on hands and knees, lift your right leg, and begin urinating within the given amount of time,” A new little hissss game sound effect follows the Announcer’s soothing feminine voice. Both teachers look dumbfounded, shaking their heads, sobbing, mumbling unintelligibly.

I roughly lead both women down from the table by their hair. Then make them get on all fours and crawl at my sides toward the teacher’s desk. I want the smell to be isolated in one area of the classroom.

My thumb presses buttons on the remote. Aadya’s sound goes off, followed by the pissing command sound. The timer starts beeping on the TV. She reluctantly lifts her knee, aiming at the leg of the desk. Half her torn pants still dangle around her ankle. Sexy open-toed black shoes still on her feet. I wait patiently as she trembles and whimpers in absolute humiliation. She mumbles something from her ring gag. Something like “I can’t go.” I lean down and slap her ass hard, watching the thick cheeks bounce and jiggle. She wavers but straightens up again, her leg high.

Finally I see a trickle of liquid slowly ooze out of her hairy snatch. Her pubes getting wet, a stream of piss running down the inside of her thigh. The timer stops, the requirements of the command fulfilled. But Aadya immediately stops peeing, lowering her legs and curling her body up as modestly as she can. Head lowered to the floor in humiliation. I’m not quite satisfied, but let’s come back to her.

Yanking on Mrs. Wilson’s hair, I coax her over next to Aadya. Lori’s sound effect rings throughout the room now, followed by the piss sound. The counter begins. She looks defeated, broken. The entire crotch of her nylons torn open, her white blouse and black shawl draping down around her exposed tits, which hang like udders. She lifts her leg obediently and begins focusing. Neither teacher seems to realize what she’s aiming at. She brings herself to release her bladder, much easier than Aadya had.

She begins spraying, a nice hard sputtering flow from her hairy cunt. Splashing directly down onto Aadya’s lowered head. Mrs. Mandal squeals as she realizes she’s getting pissed on, but I pin her down with my foot as she tries to escape. Her mane of black hair getting drenched in the steady flow of warm liquid. The stench is like a punch in the nose, but I barely notice, too absorbed in the insane sight. My religious studies teacher pissing on my art teacher.

The stream slows, soaking in Lori’s red pubes now. A messy trickle running down both thighs as she lowers her leg and waits submissively for the next nightmarish command. Her face seems blank, emotionless. Like she’s in shock. Numb after all this trauma.

Aadya sobs with her face on the floor, buried under her mop of wet hair. Kneeling with her legs folded under her. I press the piss command again for her. The timer starts ticking down, but she seems to not even hear.

So I give her a continuous, merciless shock to her collar. The taser-like clicking sound quickly drowned out by her blood-curdling scream. She shakes and seizures, still curled up in a ball. I let go, watching her body heave with raspy deep breaths. She slowly starts to get herself up into position again, lifting her leg weakly. She’s almost out of time, the countdown beeping loudly. I help her out with another non-stop jolt of electricity. She shrieks and jerks around, barely able to keep her knee up off the floor.

And finally, right before the time runs out, she releases, spurting out a disgusting spray of fluid. It almost seems unintentional, as if she’s lost control of her bladder from the excruciating pain. With her leg barely up, most of the piss shoots straight down, coating her thighs and pooling around her knees on the floor. She gyrates, muscles losing function as she drops down to her elbows. Her knee drops to the floor, ass still propped up high. The timer stops, the command successfully completed. But I keep holding down the shock button. She doesn’t stop pissing. Her hoarse screaming turns to a gurgling groan as her body jolts and shakes. Ass twerking slightly straight in the air, piss shooting out like a half-choked hose. I step back as it splashes close to my feet.

A full thirty seconds later I finally snap out of my fixated gaze and remember I need to let go of the button. Aadya collapses onto her side, breathing heavily, curling into a fetal position in a pool of her own urine.

I glance at Lori, which reminds me to balance things out. I enter a command, hearing her name sound followed by the analingus sound effect. I kick back in the teacher’s chair to watch.

But she just leans back and sits on her heels, her head shaking ‘no’. She begins sobbing, having a mental breakdown. Unable, unwilling to continue. As if that’s the line she simply can’t bring herself to cross. She can’t lick such a filthy place. Can’t lick Aadya’s piss-soaked asshole. And I even wonder if her racism is playing a part. Her disdain for the Indian teacher. The ungodly feminist heathen. She lets the time run out, refusing to move.

The Announcer’s voice echoes through the room, “Command failed. Generating punishment.”

I sigh and lean back in the chair, growing tired of the disobedience. These women just can’t seem to learn their lesson. They need to know their place in the world. My cock throbs as I gaze at one of the punishments further down the list.

I walk over and grab both teachers by a hand. Pulling sharply, dragging them and forcing them to scramble to crawl along beside me toward the back of the room. I walk too fast for them, and without one of their hands, they hobble and stumble clumsily. Falling, dragging, sliding behind me.

We head to the metal sinks along the back wall, and I begin lifting them up roughly one at a time. Shoving Aadya’s piss-soaked body head first into a large utility sink. Bending her over so she stands, head in the deep tub, dusky ass cheeks pointed toward me.

Then I do the same with Lori in a sink next to her, first removing the remainder of her blouse and shawl. She goes to lift up and I slap her pale ass as hard as I can and shove her head back down, pressing her face toward the drain. Finally both women wait patiently, bent over, as I begin preparing their task.

“Punishment assigned. The male must ejaculate inside a female’s vagina. He may do this however he sees fit. The females must keep their arms and heads inside the sinks until punishment is complete. This task must be completed to continue the game. Remember, excessive disobedience may result in forfeit. Begin.” Lori begins sobbing quietly, Aadya screams out words of protest I can’t understand.

I ignore them and walk up behind Lori. My cock twitches in anticipation, a string of precum dripping toward the floor as I reach out and fondle her squishy ass. Her warm cheeks, still partially clad in smooth nylons, so pliable and soft. I spread them and press my erection against her damp cunt. Still wet with piss, her nasty asshole staring up at me. Chewed up pink labia, worn out over the years. But still so sexy, parting gently in the center, practically begging for me.

I grab my cock in one hand, pin her head down to the drain with the other, and thrust forward without warning. She was wet and somewhat stimulated from our various activities today, but nowhere near aroused enough to accept my fully erect cock. She bucks and thrashes, her limbs weakly flailing around trying to get away. Her voice shrieks like a demon, echoing around the inside of the metal tub. But I push all the way in, violently piercing into her warm cunt. I sigh as the feeling engulfs me. Like plunging into a hot bath. Even as she clenches and pushes back at me, even as brutally tight as her unaroused walls grip me, she’s relatively loose after years of wear and tear and childbirth.

Six kids came out of this thing. Time to bring it out of retirement.

Mrs. Wilson’s pussy wraps around my meat, taking my whole length in one go. Sheathing me, like a tight glove. Her damp pubes tickle the base of my shaft as she quivers in agony at my intrusion. I hold here for a moment, both of us breathing heavily, adapting to the sudden feelings washing over us.

Then I start sliding in and out, tuning out her annoying sounds, pinning her body in place. I quicken my pace as soon as I feel like it, not waiting for her to loosen up. Her feelings mean nothing to me as I take what I want, feel what I need to feel from her body. What a good little Catholic bitch, pleasing a man as the Lord intended.

After a quick minute of slamming Lori, I leave her, suddenly stepping over behind Aadya. The Indian beauty glistens with sweat and piss. I pull apart her ass cheeks, admiring her little near-black asshole. Her dark, meaty labia and damp pubes. I slide my cock up and down her slit, rubbing her lips and butthole, coating her in slime from Lori. Her whole body trembles as she knows what’s coming next.

I don’t give her any more time to prepare, grabbing my dick and shoving in as hard as I did with Mrs. Wilson. She screams in pain as my tip jabs brutally against her opening, catching on her sticky lips and folding them inward instead of sliding in smoothly. I rear back and stab forward again, this time driving my tip inside her abused cunt. She weakly wiggles and jerks, which only adds to the fun. I hold her facedown in the sink and hump my hips forward viciously, easily penetrating her depths.

She’s a bit looser than Lori, even though she’s younger and hasn’t had kids. Maybe it’s her slightly bigger body-type, or maybe she’s just a whore that uses her cunt too much. Either way, I shiver as the incredible warmth presses on all sides of my cock. Her pussy is so inviting. Whether the feminist bitch likes it or not, her body is built for this. She welcomes a cock inside her.

I knead and slap at her thick ass cheeks as I bottom out inside her, our pubes nuzzling against each other. Wasting no time, my hips start moving instinctively, pumping in and out of her at full blast almost immediately. She squeals like a stuck pig, the metal sink vibrating from the loud noise.

I lean forward and turn on the faucet over her head. All the way cold. The icy water jets out, drenching her hair, washing the piss from her. She yelps and then coughs as water splashes all around her helpless face. Hands on both her hips to hold her steady, I smash into her pussy again and again. As fast as I can, as if trying to break her in half.

She tries to lift up so I slap her head and shove her face down toward the drain again. She sloshes and squeals around in the sink as I pummel her from behind. Manhandle her.

After a few minutes of this intense incursion, I turn the faucet off and give Aadya a break, shifting my attention back to Lori. Those pale cheeks framed in torn nylons are just begging for a similar treatment. I get behind her and impale her once again. I hold my teacher’s whimpering head down and crank the cold water on at full blast. She screeches and coughs, her pussy contracting and relaxing a few times around my cock. And the onslaught that immediately follows is more than I ever imagined a vagina was able to endure. I fuck her as savagely as I possibly can. Her feet lifting up off the floor, all her weight resting painfully on her belly pressed over the edge of the sink and her sputtering face pressed tightly down over the drain. Her motherly ass has enough cushion to smash into without seriously hurting either of us, our flesh slapping against each other loudly.

She coughs and sputters as water splashes down all around her. Her frail body seems like it’s not even used to normal sex anymore, let alone this brutality. I can feel myself getting close, so I pull out as sudden as I entered her. I’m not quite ready to end this task. I turn off the faucet and leave her hanging there on the sink, knees buckled, all her weight on her belly. She twitches, barely conscious, her pussy gaping and winking as I walk back to Mrs. Mandal.

I penetrate Aadya’s dark cunt again, the pink interior so moist and sensual. I’ve determined Lori’s more fun to fuck. Tighter, a better fit. She feels delicate and soft, but takes a beating like a champ. I give her an ‘A-’.

Aadya here on the other hand, she’s a bit too loose. Her pubes a bit too scratchy on my groin as I bottom out into her again. Her juicy ass is incredible, bouncing and rippling as I thrust against it. But Lori’s was great too. Aadya’s larger tits sag and hang lewdly in the sink. Her body is just a bit too sloppy. I give her a ‘B’.

I turn on the frigid water again, watching it pour down over Aadya’s black hair. She screams again, but she seems to be getting used to it. Her cunt is getting slicker the more I pump in and out. But this is supposed to be punishment. So I hold her head down tightly to the drain and turn on the other faucet handle, the water jetting out twice as hard now. Her thick mess of hair clogs up the drain, the water slowly filling the sink.

I hump harder into her pussy as she starts to realize what’s happening, kicking her feet and struggling against my hands. But it’s no use. Men are usually stronger than women. And as much as this ‘strong, independent’ feminist would hate to admit it, we both adhere to that statistic pretty well.

As the water begins to fill above mouth-level, she starts coughing and gurgling. Each cough making her pussy clench nicely on my cock as it slides in and out of her.

She strains with every muscle, her body jerking and thrashing as her face is now submerged under water. I fend off her hands as they claw at me in desperation. The feeling is incredible. Her life is in my hands. Her body nothing but a bag of hot wet flesh bent over a sink. This is truly the most I’ve ever admired this woman. She’s exactly where she’s meant to be. Serving her male student. Pleasing a man with her sultry body.

I grunt, my breathing as heavy as her’s is nonexistent. Sloshing and splashing sounds fill the classroom. Along with slapping flesh and tap-dancing heels as her legs kick and struggle beneath me.

Just as her body seems to be slowing, her muscles relaxing, close to drowning, a tidal wave of euphoric pleasure crashes over me. I unload deep within my art teacher, shooting thick ropes of my cream inside her cunt. Cum pooling around the tip of my dick, filling her up. I relax a bit, casually pumping my cock in and out a few more times, really packing my seed into her. Breeding the woman who thought herself too good for childbirth, too good to even take her husband’s name. Basting her while she drowns in the sink.

And the TV suddenly erupts with a fun arcade game coin explosion sound effect to accompany my climax. I slide out of her mess of a cunt, and the Announcer’s voice congratulates us for completing the punishment.

Without a moment’s hesitation the TV starts another countdown timer. The previous command still needs to be fulfilled. I laugh and shake my head. Damn this game gets intense. I take it upon myself to help the women through this command. Either that or we’ll never beat this game.

Pulling Aadya’s head out of the sink finally, she gasps and spews out water. Seconds more and she would’ve been unconscious. I thump on her back to help her get through her coughing spell and then leave her bent over the sink as it slowly drains of water. I quickly go grab Lori, lifting her roughly by the hair. She whimpers and weakly follows my lead as I pull her over and drop her down on her knees behind Aadya’s ass. I shove her face forward, nose and mouth pressed against the Indian teachers dark ass crack.

Lori gags and pathetically tries to turn her head away from it, but I hold her steady, smushing her in there. She knows what she has to do. The seconds tick away, time almost up. And finally, Mrs. Wilson reaches out her little tongue and licks Mrs. Mandal’s dirty asshole.

A couple laps is all it takes for the timer to stop. I stand up, letting her lick a little while longer. What a fucking sight to behold. My racist religion teacher with her tongue between my Indian art teacher’s mocha cheeks.

I stand over Lori’s head while she works, grabbing a handful of her short auburn hair, using it to wipe off all the jizz and pussy juice coating my dick. My breathing slows, my heart rate coming down. I step back and admire the women. Bodies trembling, exhausted, broken. I’ve trained them well. Taught them their place, made them submit. I’ve gotten as much out of them as I could ever want. It’s time to actually finish this game.

I enter a couple commands for them and immediately grab both the ladies and pull them down to the floor. I’m not going to let them fuck this up. I’ll make sure they complete this next part so we can all move on.

Lori’s sound effect echoes across the room, followed by the cunnilingus sound. Then Aadya’s sound, followed by analingus. They barely react, both women so numb to it all by now. I lay them down on their sides, heads forced between each others legs in a sideways 69 position. Legs wrapped up over each other. God damn that’s fucking hot. Dark skin intertwined with pale skin. It almost resembles a yin yang symbol. Two women that can’t stand each other, now forced into perfect harmony.

I shove Aadya’s face into Lori’s crotch. She knows what to do, hurrying to flick her tongue out, craning her neck to reach all the way to the nasty asshole in there. I pet her wet hair as she submissively obeys, prying open the pale butt cheeks with her hands and lapping away at the hairy brown hole.

Time is running out as I rush around, expecting to find Lori disobeying. Instead I find her licking at the wrong hole! She’s trying to obey, but mixed up the sound effects, licking at Aadya’s wrinkled brown asshole instead of her cunt. I stifle a laugh and kneel down to guide her mouth down a bit. She gags slightly, but obeys. The timer stops.

That’s two successful commands. Eight more and we complete the game. But I sit back and enjoy this sight for a bit. Mrs. Wilson, the goody-goody Catholic lady, is licking away at the pussy I just came inside. She digs gingerly through the dark folds, my cream starting to leak out. She gags again, but knows she must continue. A glob of semen oozes out from the Indian’s used cunt, directly onto her tongue. She continues, grimacing.

I move around to the other side again, quickly entering in a new command for Aadya. The cunnilingus command sound rings in our ears, and I watch as her dusky face slides down to lick at the ginger’s fuzzy pussy.

I spam the same buttons on the remote, alternating each woman between asshole and cunt. Back and forth, both teachers hurrying to obey each time, a frothy mess of sweat, jizz, pussy cream, and even lingering piss all mixing with their slimy spit. Tongues waggling out seductively from their bondage gags. The most incredible sight I could imagine.

As I stand over them, watching my teachers smother themselves between their thighs, I realize I’m shifting around. Pacing. After cumming, I now have to relieve myself.

Why hold back? They’re already covered in piss anyway. Already broken and ruined. I stand directly over their wiggling bodies. Damp with sweat and other fluids. I aim. And let go.

I sigh in absolute bliss as my urine washes over them. Aadya yelps, Lori flinches and tries to turn away from it. But both know better than to stop licking. The sound of liquid splashing against flesh fills the room. A shiver runs through me as I mark my territory, the ultimate sign of dominance over these worthless teachers. Soaking their hair, trickling over their hips, pooling in the crack where their soft bellies press together. I even aim for their faces, watching them struggle to continue licking while getting a jet of pee straight in their mouths and noses.

I shake off the last few drops and pull up a chair to watch them continue their lewd tasks. Both women now working on each other’s pussies noisily. Sticky spit sounds like music to my ears.

After leaving them on this command for several long minutes, I could swear they’re both starting to enjoy it, against all odds. Starting to hump their thick hips into each other’s faces. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking. Maybe just my imagination. I spam their commands a few more times, alternating ass and cunt. But just as they seem to be getting into it, they complete the tenth command in a row. The game is over.

The TV in the corner of the room erupts into victorious 8-bit arcade music, “Congratulations. You win. You may now each return to your quarters.” The Announcer’s happy voice. So calm, so unfitting for the obscene tangle of wet flesh on the floor. The scent of piss and sex thick in the air. The women roll away from each other, covering themselves. They don’t look like winners. Drenched, dripping. Abused in ways they could have never imagined before today. But submissive. Subservient. Finally respectful of the male student in the room.

Lori Wilson. A racist , religious prude. Today she learned the real meaning of worship. Followed my Ten Commandments beautifully. Forced to pleasure the dark-skinned teacher she despises. She learned why her god put women here. To serve men. To take their seed.

And Aadya Mandal. My liberal feminist art teacher. She learned so much about the ‘patriarchy’ today. Learned how to obey a male. The man-basher, bashed. Broken down and bred like a woman was meant to be. She might not respect her husband, but she pleased me well today. Served her male student like a good little bitch.

The two most hated teachers in the school, punished, humiliated, put in their place. They’re so much more enjoyable when they look like this. Their students would love them if they acted like this in class. If they pleased the boys rather than torment them. I hated both these women before this. But I have to admit, they might be my favorite teachers now.

I leave them there on the floor to clean themselves up. Without a glance over my shoulder, I gather my stuff and head out the door. For the first time, I exit Mrs. Mandal’s art class feeling wonderful. A glorious smile on my face. Ready for whatever this game has in store for me next.

To be continued…

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