[Start with the Prologue!](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/tfhqci/sol_games_begin_game_teachers_and_18yo_senior/)

Then read other chapters in any order!

Links to all my stories and more chapters to this story are in comments.

*Pronounced ‘soul’ games. First-person, creepy, non-chronological, episodic stories inspired by the anime “Euphoria”, the book “Battle Royal”, the show “Squid Games”, etc. In this one, I choose two of my milf teachers.*


I’m just trying to help with these disclaimers! I don’t want to spring things on anyone. Back out now if any of this doesn’t sound like your kind of thing!

The POINT of my writing is to combine VIOLENCE, HORROR, and EXTREME TABOO themes, trying to creep myself out as I write. This whole story is told through the eyes of a VILLAIN. If you do not enjoy very dark themes, this is not for you!

This is a work of fiction. I do not condone any of the things I write about. All characters are 18+. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.



-Gross descriptions / bodily fluids / bad smells



Pet Teachers Part 1

I hold my breath as I watch the TV in front of me. Animated effects and arcade-like sounds indicate I pressed ‘Begin Game’. The screen changes from the menu to the camera view of the gymnasium. Full of girls. Every attractive senior girl and female teacher. All held captive. For me. Some lay in their bunk beds that line the gym walls. Some are bunched up, talking, waiting nervously for their daily commands. The teachers doing their best to stay strong and comfort the scared girls.

I get nervous as nothing seems to happen at first. I pressed the button. So what’s next? I can feel my heartbeat throbbing in my ears. Then finally, the PA system starts playing a little jingle, a little 8-bit game intro. Followed by that calm female voice, “Attention, females. Attention females.”

The girls look attentive and anxious, but these announcements seem to have become routine for them. How long have we been here? The Announcer continues, like a GPS voice giving directions, “Please line up along the center of the gymnasium. A game will begin shortly.”

Subtle whispers and nervous glances fly around the room, but the girls all slowly obey. Females of all shapes, sizes, ages, and colors line up down the middle of the basketball court. Shoulder to shoulder, some holding hands for support, all facing my camera. My own menagerie of women.

“Please remain standing until a female is chosen for the game,” the Announcer’s happy voice signals my TV to change. A menu of faces slides up from the bottom underneath the camera view. It says ‘Select a Female’. I press the arrows on the remote, browsing through them all. As I hover over a girl’s face, the camera zooms in and shows me that girl in the gym in real-time. Incredible.

It’s as easy as ordering room service. But there are almost too many to pick from. A small blonde girl, her knees shaking. An Asian girl I’ve always wondered about. And the teachers. Such stern faces, determined to remain strong for the girls under their care. But no matter their age, they’re all women I could choose. No matter their previous positions of authority over us, teachers are in just as much danger as the students. Select a female.

I browse through them. And the longer I take, the more anxious they all look standing there. My dick twitches in my pants. God why does that turn me on so much?

The screen displays a short bio as I hover over each. Name, age, personal information. And a few of the women have little plus-sign buttons I could press too. It doesn’t say what those do though. Mrs. Wilson has one above her picture. The religious studies teacher everyone hates. Her bio says she’s married, age 41. Wow, six kids.

I watch as the camera zooms in on her. Lori Wilson. Even now, her face is scrunched up and mean. She looks like she wants to yell at people, bitch at her abductors, tell them they’re going to hell for all this.

She is hot though. Shorter hair, auburn. Layered and wavy around her face, a ‘bob’ style that makes her look like a typical classy mom. She’s a bit of a ginger, with pale skin and some light freckles. Thin facial features. A silky white button-down blouse, with a classy black shawl sweater thing draped over it. A modest dark green skirt, covering the knees, showing nylons underneath. Simple black flats on her feet. She has a smaller build, but with some motherly curves in the right places. Everything is so at odds with her personality.

She’s one of the meanest teachers we’ve ever had. A super religious, goody-goody Catholic. And as the ‘Religious Studies’ teacher, she crams her beliefs down her students’ throats with a harshness straight out of the Old Testament. Any time they disobey or question her, it’s “you’re going to hell for that”. Most detentions come from her.

But this isn’t the worst of it. She’s legitimately bigoted. Gays are all going to hell. Most liberals too. She openly says terms like ‘colored people’ and ‘the blacks’. And she even said something about all of India smelling bad. And we’ve all heard the rumors of how she actually hates a few of the other teachers. A lot of these slurs are actually direct underhanded jabs at teachers that don’t quite subscribe to her ultra-religious views.

That’s it, I’ve decided. I mean if I have to put someone through some awful sex game, why not pick the most deserving? I hover over the plus-sign option, pressing it to see what happens. The screen gives off a pleasing little game sound, boop. It types, ‘Female selected for cooperative mode. Please select another female.’ My cock actually jumps slightly in my pants. What?! That’s an option? Oh this is awesome.

Most of the other females are grayed out now though, unable to be selected. I sift through the remaining ones and find the perfect partner for Mrs. Wilson.

Mrs. Aadya Mandal, age 34, of Indian descent. The man-bashing, feminist art teacher. Married, but never took her husband’s name. No kids. In fact, us students are all convinced she wants fewer children in the world. As if women shouldn’t be held back by the ‘slavery’ of childbearing or something. If there was a competition for least-liked, least-skilled teacher in the school, Aadya would be neck and neck with Mrs. Wilson.

But that might be the only thing she has in common with Lori. She hates religion. Openly shits on it, even though she works at a Catholic school. Constantly makes fun of the ‘traditional’ women teachers, says how they hold back progress, how they’re helping the patriarchy.

Us immature high school kids usually find all this very funny, until it’s directed at us. See, Aadya hates boys. She’s never once corrected or disciplined a single girl in class. But she openly finds any excuse to outright fail the boys. Most of us are pretty used to just not even talking in class, knowing our opinions will just get scoffed at or talked over.

But much like Lori, she’s very fun to look at. The camera zooms in on her gorgeous face. Her expression is bold, but she can’t hide her look of fear. Her plump lips quivering weakly. Her jet-black hair swirls in luxurious waves down over her shoulders. Gorgeous, natural good looks. Her skin is dark, but on the fairer side for her Indian ethnicity. She’s a bit tall for a woman, nice and thick in her chest and waste. A bigger frame, just a bit plump, just shy of too much. She wears a stylish little black and white floral blouse, tight to her chest. With a baggy white cardigan hanging open over top. Then skin-tight maroon slacks that stop on her calves. Showing her sexy open-toed black shoes with slightly raised heels, probably to make her empowered looking down over the males.

Another boop sound and the menu bar slides away, returning to an overview angle of the gym. The Announcer speaks again, “Two females have been chosen… Lori Wilson and Aadya Mandal. Please step away from the line.”

Gasps are heard around the gym. Muffled whispers, wide-eyed glances. And the two teachers both look like they’ve been slapped. Lori’s jaw is wide open. Aadya looks like she could cry. A few students try to offer words of comfort, but a general look of ‘I’m glad it’s not me’ is blatant on most faces around the room.

For the next few minutes, the Announcer speaks privately to me through the TV in my room. I’m to go to the school, to room 201. I’ll meet up with the ‘females’ there. I guess this is really happening.

I head out into the warm island air, feeling nervous but oddly excited. I almost expect this all to be some twisted prank. I don’t really know what to expect. This seems so surreal. The mechanisms inside every door along the way click unlocked as I approach. I enter the school building, no sound except my footsteps echoing in the halls as I head to the stairs. Room 201 is on the second floor. I know it pretty well. It’s Mrs. Mandal’s art room. Normally a dreaded room for all male students. I walk in with a grin.

“Who’s there? Is that the boy they chose?” Lori Wilson’s voice immediately calls out as I enter the quiet room. I stay silent. I have no intention of speaking. “It’s ok, we’re all going to get through this together. Then they’ll pay for all this! They’ll burn in Hell!”

I have to stifle a laugh. Even in her current predicament, her shrill voice tries to yell at everything, take control of the situation. She has no idea I’m in on the game. No idea I chose her.

I examine the room, gingerly walking around. Lori stands next to Aadya, the Indian art teacher. Both blindfolded in the center of the room, trying not to stand too close to each other. The room looks the same as always. Long tables lined with metal stools. Everything caked with years of dried paint, splashes of color. A typical teacher’s desk at the front of the room. Neat and bare and hardly used. Aadya doesn’t actually teach much, mostly using her desk to lounge and slack off on her phone. A few metal utility sinks along the back wall. Random artwork lining the other walls, almost exclusively done by the girls of the school. Fuck, they really went all out! It’s an exact replica of the real art room. I ignore how strange it all is, returning my attention to the women.

“Your teacher asked you a question, boy,” Aadya speaks now, her slight Indian accent so sultry. Trying to stay strong and dominant, but her voice cracks, giving away her fear. “They said you’re gagged, like we’re blindfolded? Make a noise at least!” I smile, staying silent. Defying the teachers is such a thrill. They have no power here, and they’re starting to realize it. Both starting to look very uneasy.

I notice a TV in the corner of the room suddenly turn on, emitting some fun little intro music. Like an arcade game starting up. The Announcer’s voice follows the intro music, “Please remember, excessive disobedience will result in punishment. This includes conversation irrelevant to the game.” I smile even wider. The teachers are getting reprimanded for questioning me. Lori’s face is angry. Aadya’s is a bit embarrassed and tense. But both stay quiet, starting to understand the hierarchy at play here.

The voice continues, “The rules of this game are as follows. One by one, I will announce certain words and phrases, assigning a randomly generated sound effect to each. These commands will each only be stated once, the sound effect replacing it for the remainder of the game. For example, this sound will represent the name Lori Wilson,” A low, 8-bit bloop sound reverberates through the room. “This sound means Aadya Mandal,” A quick, double bloop bloop sound. “And this means the chosen male,” A gravelly brrr.

“More commands will be assigned throughout the game, and when sound effects are strung together, they will create an activity for the players to perform together. A timer sound will follow each command. If time runs out and even just a single player has not begun the activity, the command is failed. To win the game, ten consecutive activities must be correctly performed. Failure will reset the count, and a random punishment activity must be performed in order to continue. Now, to begin the game, the male player must attach to the female players the devices found on the teacher’s desk. Begin.”

“Devices? What the fuck is happening? Boy?” Aadya cries out desperately.

“Watch your tongue! Let’s just get this over with. The Lord will watch over us and punish the ones doing this.” Lori’s shrill voice wavers for the first time, heavy with uncertainty.

I ignore the annoying women and walk over to the desk. Devices, devices… Oh! I notice two black leather straps. Almost like dog collars. I pick one up. Oh my god, it’s a BDSM gag! A metal ring covered in silicone, buckle in the back. My dick stirs. This is insane.

Then I notice the TV is secretly typing a message to me. It reads, ‘Use your remote to initiate shock treatment to either female at any time’. Seriously?! I have control over their metal collars? The TV shows a button I can press for either teacher. Fuck, I don’t know about that. I’m glad it’s completely optional. I began this with just a horny sort of curiosity, but this is turning out to be way more serious than I anticipated.

I bring the gags over to the teachers. Walking up to Aadya first, who takes a cautious step back as she hears me approach, “What are you doing. Stay away!”

I grab Mrs. Mandal by the arm to hold her steady. She’s so soft. We stand about the same height, and normally she’s one of the most intimidating women I know. But her dominance is dissipating with every passing second.

She quivers in my grasp as I reach up and touch her face. My finger feeling her soft lips, palm caressing her dusky cheek. I coax her jaw open and press the ring into her mouth. My dick swells in my pants. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Shoving such a lewd thing between my teacher’s teeth. Buckling it tight around the back of her head. Forced to bite down on it, her jaw open wide. She makes pathetic little “Ah ah ah” sounds as her annoying mouth is no longer able to form words. Damn, that’s a good look for her.

I turn and approach Lori next. Mrs. Wilson looks around in terror as she tries to listen to what’s happening. I reach out and touch her, but she immediately recoils, lets out a scream, and shoves me away.

As an immediate response to touching me in this way, whoever is monitoring this game triggers the metal collar around her neck. A clicking sound, like a taser going off, fills the room. Lori screeches in agony, her hands flying up to her neck. My dick twitches again, pressing tight against my pants as I watch my teacher fall to her hands and knees.

The clicking stops, and I hover over her. Looking her up and down. Admiring how nice the curve of her rump looks in that skirt as she gasps for breath on all fours. The more I look, the less I dwell on how wrong this all is. Forbidden fruit tempting me like the serpent in the garden.

I kneel down at her face before she’s fully recovered, reaching my hand out and gripping a firm fistful of her auburn hair. She yelps as I pull her head up and press the ring to her lips. She struggles at first, but a few more yanks on her hair and she opens up. I buckle it tightly into place. Look at this, my teacher on her hands and knees like a dog, mouth gaping open like a slut. Not very lady-like, not very Christian of her.

As soon as both gags are secured on the women, the TV plays a fun little victorious sound, signifying a checkpoint reached. Then I notice the screen has a full menu of different options for me. Apparently I’m in complete control of this game! There’s a list of commands I can add. And then a list of added commands that I can string together to create an activity, which right now only includes our name-sounds. So I look through the list of possible activities to add.

The top of the list has a bunch of harmless ones. ‘Jump up and down’. ‘Stand on a table’. Huh, so I guess I could get us through this game without making the women do anything bad. The game could be easily won, and they’d be that much closer to being set free from their captivity on this island. But some of the options lower down the list catch my eye. Really? I can have my teachers do that?

But no, that’s going too far. I can’t stand these teachers, but I need to pick something less violating, less twisted. I settle for something in between. Just something a bit humiliating. Just to get back at them for how much hell they put students through.

The Announcer’s voice narrates my selection, “New command. When you hear the following sound, you must crawl on hands and knees until you find a bowl. Fill this bowl with water from a sink, and begin drinking using only your tongue.” A new sound effect follows these instructions, an 8-bit water droplet sound, drip!

I look at my teacher’s reactions. Lori shakes her head back in forth in a mix of anger and disbelief. Aadya is simply frozen still. I smile. Ok let’s try this out. I press Lori’s name, then Aadya’s, and then ‘water bowl’.

The little sounds echo throughout the room. The women hear them clearly, but neither move at first, both seem unsure if this is really happening. As if they can’t seriously be expected to do something like that.

Then the countdown sound the Announcer mentioned begins. A loud beeping reminiscent of a video game time-trial sound. I notice the TV displaying 5, 4, 3… But the women have no way of knowing how much time they have. Aadya panics and gets down on her hands and knees, scrambling to comply. But Lori just stands there looking absolutely appalled that anyone would ever have the nerve to make her do something so demeaning.

The time runs out with a loud downbeat failure horn sound and the Announcer’s voice says, “Command failed. Generating punishment.”

And the TV silently displays more options for me! Again, I can choose harmless things like ‘do five push-ups’, ‘run a lap around the room’. Humane things, things I should do. But I keep remembering how these two teachers have treated me, and I decide they need a little more than that.

“Punishment assigned. The male must apply pain to the females’ nipples for the specified amount of time. Task must be completed to continue the game. Remember, excessive disobedience may result in forfeit. Begin.” God damn, hearing that calm voice say such filthy things makes my dick flex in my pants again. I rub at my crotch as I walk to Lori first, glancing at the TV. It shows thirty seconds required for each woman. The clock seems to only start when I begin administering punishment.

Lori looks mortified at the instructions, holding out her hands and backing away as she hears my footsteps approach. I can already tell she’s going to be difficult, and I’m getting tired of it. I press the button on my remote to trigger her collar. She screams, her legs almost giving out from the pain. Only two quick seconds, then I release the button. I reach out and grope at the hem of her shirt, but she still tries to back away defiantly. I shove her up against a nearby wall and then shock her again, another couple seconds. Then twice more.

Finally she starts to get the idea. Finally submits to my touch. I smile and grab the front of her shirt, pulling her roughly toward me, then smashing her back violently into the wall behind her. Pinning her there, I lean in and plant a tender kiss on her neck, right above the metal collar, still hot with electricity. She stiffens uncomfortably, but allows it. The warmth of her skin makes me shudder. So soft, so feminine. I lick up the side of her neck, tasting her, inhaling her scent. God I can’t believe I’m doing this.

She smells like flowers. Roses I think. A boring, mature scent. Still pleasant, but not meant to be sexy. Nothing about her really attempts that honestly. She has a natural beauty, but stays modest and prudish, as if trying to downplay her attractiveness. No matter, I’ll just have to tear her open and find the slut underneath.

I straighten up, reach out and grab the neck of her blouse with both hands, and suddenly rip as hard as I can. The delicate, silky fabric gives way without difficulty, unleashing my teacher’s boring beige bra beneath. Dangling down in her cleavage is a silver chain necklace with a crucifix. I tear at her shirt more, leaving it hanging completely open in the front, then grasp at her breasts. Soft, pliable. So motherly and full. Not even bothering to unhook her bra, instead I pull the cups down aggressively. Flipping them under and inside out, her bare tits spilling out above them.

Fuck so that’s what Mrs. Wilson’s tits look like? Her flesh is extremely pale, some freckles dancing lightly across her upper chest, neck, and shoulders. She squirms, so I thrust out my hand and grip her throat just above her collar, pinning her painfully against the wall. And with my other hand, I pinch tightly onto a puffy nipple. The clock immediately starts on the TV. Fat and squishy, her nipples are just begging to be touched and tormented like this. The areolas around them are oval-shaped and large, but a nice pale pink that goes perfectly with her fair complexion.

I hold her against the wall by her throat while cranking and twisting on her nipple with all my strength. She screeches like a banshee until my grip on her neck tightens even more, cutting off her airflow, making her gurgle and choke. My cock throbs inside my pants as I watch my teacher shake and struggle pathetically. Her body is so weak, so frail compared to mine.

The time is up, and I plant a sweet kiss on her trembling cheek as I let go. She gasps for breath and slides down the wall, collapsing onto the floor. I turn to Mrs. Mandal, my heart racing from the excitement.

Aadya is still on the floor, but has crawled away to cower under a table. I walk over silently and reach underneath before she even knows I’m there, grabbing a handful of her thick black hair and yanking her out from her hiding spot. She yelps and thrashes as I slide her out in the open. Her nails dig into my hand, so I let go, shoving her faceup on the floor. I grab my remote and hold down her shock button.

Immediately, her feisty attitude dissolves into pure agony as she squeals like a dying pig on the floor. Her body goes tense, spasming and shaking slightly. I hold it down for a full 20 seconds, really making a point, really letting the lesson sink in.

I let go and watch her catch her breath for a minute, her beautiful body broken in a bit, trembling. Then, leaning down, I grab her by the hair and pull her with me as I take a seat on a metal stool. I get her up sitting on her butt on the floor with her back to me, pulled close between my legs.

I reach down and grope her all over. Caressing her soft face. The slight pudginess to her skin makes her so fun to touch and squeeze. Her classy white cardigan hangs open already, allowing easy access to feel across the thin floral blouse beneath. Tight against her skin, accenting every curve, her soft belly, large tits. I lean down and grab cardigan and blouse both and start pulling up forcefully. Already, the ‘empowered’ feminist teacher is starting to learn her place. She doesn’t fight, allows me to start revealing her bare skin as I pull her clothing up her body.

Her dusky flesh, her bare belly. A bit of fat, some love-handles on the sides. Not much, but flawed enough to make her seem down-to-earth. Womanly and natural. I slide my hands along her body as I pull her shirts up higher and higher, relishing in her discomfort. She has to let me do it, but I feel how tense her muscles are, how shallow her breathing is as her body is getting violated and explored against her will.

I lift up and over her large bra cups, a classy white that perfectly compliments her mocha skin tone. I increase my pace, getting hasty and impatient to reveal more of her. I whip her shirts up and off her arms and head, then shove her forward roughly, unhook her bra, and let it fall.

I yank her head back by her hair to rest in my lap, admiring her exposed chest. So fucking thick! I reach down and grab a handful, letting it spill and overflow between my fingers, admiring the substantial weight. She’s younger than Lori, but her breasts sag lower, probably from the size. Some stretch marks around the sides. Little imperfections she’s probably embarrassed about. Dark areolas, almost black.

I don’t waste any more time, pinching my fingers together around her nipple with sheer brutality. Spongy and soft. I twist it as hard as I can, using my other hand to fight back her flailing arms. The counter starts, but I can barely hear it over the wailing coming from my teacher. My dick presses against the back of her neck as I hold her tightly between my legs.

The counter stops halfway through as Aadya pulls away from my grasp, tries to crawl away, sobbing uncontrollably. I calmly press her shock button and watch as she collapses onto her stomach, twitching and clenching all her muscles. I give her a full thirty seconds of torture, her collar clicking away with hot electricity. Maybe I imagine it, but I swear I see a tiny wet spot appear in the crotch of her pants. Is she pissing herself?

I let go and roll her over with my foot. On her back now, her naked torso is on full display. Her large breasts sagging outward. A bit of foamy spit leaking out her forced-open mouth as she pants and coughs.

I straddle her stomach, pinning her hands down at her sides under my legs. Then I grab a nipple with each hand and pull up hard. As if trying to rip the dark nubs off her body. Her tits stretch further than I thought possible and she moans in agony again. The counter ticks down to zero.

“Punishment complete. The timer for the previous command will now reset. Please continue,” I hold onto Mrs. Mandal’s nipples all the way through the Announcer’s instructions, the peaceful tone of the voice so at odds with my teacher’s screams of pain. I let go right as the counter for the ‘water bowl’ command is reset. I get off the woman, and she struggles to roll her exhausted body over and begin crawling as instructed. I glance over at Lori. What a good girl, even she’s complying now.

Apparently simply beginning to crawl on hands and knees is enough to satisfy the command, so I watch patiently as the women pathetically search around the room. Blindly trying to find bowls to fill with water. While they do this, I undress casually. What a strange feeling, getting completely naked around my teachers, right in the middle of a classroom.

I take a seat in the comfy chair at Aadya’s desk, enjoying the show. Mrs. Mandal knows where to find a bowl normally used for watercolors. She tries to carry it while waddling on her knees, which triggers the timer on the TV to begin beeping loudly again. She jolts back down on all fours again to stop it, realizing the game wants her to carry it in her mouth. I sit in her chair, slowly stroke my raging cock, watching her sagging tits sway as she crawls to the metal sinks at the back of the class.

We all realize the only way to continue is for me to go help fill the bowls, since the women can’t get up off their hands and knees. I reluctantly help out, setting Aadya’s water bowl down in front of her. I watch as she leans down and starts lapping her tongue out from her ring gag, licking at the water. I kneel down and place my hand on her back, silently telling her to keep licking. My other hand explores her ass and crotch over top her maroon slacks. She flinches at first, but knows what happens if she resists. I caress her skin-tight pants, feeling the shape of her plump ass. And sure enough, her crotch is a bit damp. Nasty bitch pissed herself like a dog.

I reach around and shove my fingers in her mouth to clean the pee off, then pat her on the head and turn to Lori, who finally reaches the sink with her bowl. I help her out, filling her bowl and placing it down. Her ripped clothing drapes down around her exposed pale tits, everything hanging out loosely. I roughly push her head down to encourage her to drink, and leave to go find something at the teacher’s desk.

I return with a pair of scissors and kneel down behind Mrs. Wilson. Before she can react, I start snipping away at the bottom of her skirt. She coughs in surprise and goes to turn around in protest. But I grab a fistful of auburn hair and shove her head straight down into her water bowl. She sputters and flails around, water spewing out across the floor. When I let go, she seems sufficiently submissive, continuing to drink.

I return to her skirt and continue cutting, right up the center in the back, revealing more and more of her nylon-covered legs. Then her ass, still covered in the dark fabric. The green skirt falls away as I finish cutting. She’s covered in tights all the way up to her belly button. The fabric darker and thicker at the seem in the crotch. Stretched beautifully over her shapely figure. She keeps herself fit it seems. Only a hint of saggy belly fat. Her thighs and ass the perfect motherly thickness.

I feel around, running my hands over her rump, down her legs. My hand gliding between her tightly pressed thighs, rubbing at her warm crotch. It’s stuffy, almost moist to the touch from being clamped together all the time.

I continue like this for several minutes, encouraging her to keep drinking and ignore me. Then I shift back to Aadya to molest her some more. It quickly becomes apparent that this drinking task only ends when I choose a new command. So I let them go at it for quite some time, forcing them to fill their bellies. When I grow bored, I finally get up and start scrolling through the other possible commands on the screen.

I really shouldn’t take this any further. But hovering over a command like this one… I glance at Aadya. Then back to the screen. I mean, what’s the harm? I’m sure she’s done this plenty with her husband. I select it, boop.

“New command. When you hear the following sound, you must crawl on hands and knees and perform fellatio on the male,” An new little game sound effect follows the Announcer’s overly-calm words, a soft 8-bit doot sound. But I quickly add another command, unable to hold back.

“New command. When you hear the following sound, you must crawl on hands and knees and perform cunnilingus on the other female.” It gives us a nice video game ding sound. Both women lift their heads in panic, about to protest, but I don’t give them a chance. Aadya’s sound goes off, followed by the ‘fellatio’ sound, then Lori’s sound followed by ‘cunnilingus’.

Mrs. Mandal squeaks in fear, immediately scrambling around on all fours, trying to locate me before any punishments can be inflicted on her. Lori freezes for a moment, the countdown beginning to beep. I wonder for a second if she even knows what cunnilingus means. After all, her only source of knowledge, the Bible, probably doesn’t mention it. But Aadya squeals at her in anger, and she finally jolts into terrified motion.

I sit in the teacher’s chair again, leaning back and awaiting my Indian teacher’s hot mouth, watching her crawl around trying to find me. I whistle and she starts approaching. Lori hot on her tail. Their crawling is enough to cease the countdown timer. My cock throbs in anticipation.

Aadya finds me finally and gets up on her knees, hands resting on my thighs. She leans in but gags slightly. Unable to bring herself to blow this unknown student of hers. I slap her hands off me and grab her hair tightly. Making her get on all fours again, I force her head toward my groin, her gaping mouth engulfing my dick. My meat plunging into her ring gag.

The feeling is unlike anything I’ve felt. The warmth mixed with the lingering chill of the water she drank. She gags loudly as I plummet straight to the back of her throat in a single thrust. I hold her head down and make her take it. When she tries to pull up, lift her hands to my legs to push away from me, I flick at her metal collar loudly. An obvious reminder that shock treatment awaits her if she misbehaves. She slowly lowers her hands away, but her throat can’t take it. She coughs and spews mucusy spit across my lap. So I let go, watching her gasp and cough. From the feel of it, it might be the first time she’s ever done this. I shake my head. What a waste of a beautiful wife. What’s her husband thinking?

Lori meets up with us, feeling around and finding Aadya’s backside. She looks hesitant, unsure what to do, or possibly contemplating disobedience. I grab my remote and administer a quick pulse of electricity. She gasps from the sharp pain and begins frantically grasping around at her fellow teacher’s pants. So she does know what it means.

I shove Mrs. Mandal onto my dick again, not giving her as much time to catch her breath as she might want. Halfway in her slick mouth and she’s already gagging again. I slap her in the face half-force and yank her down by the hair, humping my hips in her chair to fuck her face. She coughs and spits, trying to turn her head away from it. I let her, not wanting to get puked on. But I grab either side of her head in both hands and smear her face back and forth across my balls as she wheezes and snorts, desperate for air. Wet with her saliva, my shaft flops and slides along her nose and forehead. This is really how every feminist should be treated. It’s a good look for her. Spit coating her face. Coughing and choking on a man’s cock. She should retire from her sad attempt at teaching and just do this for her students all day.

Meanwhile, Lori is back there wriggling and shimmying Aadya’s tight pants down off her butt. I watch her reveal a sexy white thong. The fabric disappears between plump dark brown asscheeks. Damn, it’s probably such a struggle to stuff all that into those pants. My cock flexes, and I plunge it back into the face in my lap. Lori pauses for a second, but then brings her hands up and pulls down the thong.

I don’t have much of a view from here, but that’s fine. I watch with bated breath as the prudish uptight teacher slowly leans her face into the other woman’s exposed twat. She turns her head and gags, almost unable to go through with the sick action. But for fear of more punishment, she turns back to it, sticks her tongue tentatively out of her ring gag, and leans in to taste the cunt.

I can’t believe it! Mrs. Wilson, the perfect little Christian lady, is licking Mrs. Mandal’s pussy before my very eyes. The racist, mean old bitch, lapping away at an Indian woman’s cunt. All while I force my cock down Aadya’s throat. I look down at the man-hating art teacher in my lap. Lewd slurping and choking sounds. Trying to hold back from throwing up. Both women, dignity shattered. Put in their place.

I let Aadya lift off me again, watching her gasp and shake, voice raspy and hoarse with every strained cough. Drool pouring down her chin, slime coating her cleavage beautifully. I hold her by the hair and slap my cock onto her face over and over while she thrashes around trying to catch her breath. Before she can fully recover, I stand up to get a powerful angle, dig fingers into her scalp, and plunge into her ring gag with all my strength, fucking in and out as if it’s a pussy.

Aadya makes uncontrollably lewd sounds as I drive into her throat. GAK GAK GAK UURRP! She’s on the verge of puking, my hands rag-dolling her head front to back. But just before I push her too far, I feel my balls tighten, my cock pulsing in her gullet.

I wrench my dick out of her mess of a mouth, shoving her head down to the floor with cruel dismissal. Her chest goes flat on the floor, her knees still propping her ass high in the air, with Lori still lapping away at her crotch. I jerk my cock furiously, rushing forward to stand over Aadya’s ass. My free hand roughly grips Mrs. Wilson’s hair, shoving her face tightly into the brown cunt in front of her, holding her there.

I grunt wildly, my whole body tightening in a volcanic climax, erupting straight onto Lori’s ginger face as she’s forced to continue licking at the hairy snatch. I shoot rope after rope of thick jizz into my religion teacher’s pale face. Coating her forehead, blasting across her auburn hair. A few stray shots spurt onto Aadya’s asscheeks, dripping down the dark skin. Then I pull Lori’s face up and fire the last few rounds directly into her ring gag, oozing the last of my semen into her mouth.

A fun little victorious game jingle accompanies my climax, as if I beat a level, reached a checkpoint.

I breath heavily for a moment, coming down from my fiery explosion, staring down at the ruined face of my teacher. With one final shove, I smush Lori’s face into Aadya’s pussy, rubbing it around, smearing my cum all over, caking it in her classy hair. She coughs and whimpers, and I let go finally.

I stand up and look down at the masterpiece I created on the floor of the art room. They try to cover up, try to regain a modicum of decency. But I’ve soiled them. I own them. They’re nothing but dogs to me now.

And I’m far from done training them.


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