"

She had to. She wanted to.

"I want your cock...in my mouth," she whispered.

Now his eyes were close to hers. His face had become mask-like. He barely moved his lips as he spoke:

"Why? Are you a little slut?"

To Jane’s astonishment the words that had once brought her to tears now caused her arousal to soar, and she suddenly burst out, "Yes! I’m a little slut, and I want your cock in my mouth! Ohhhh....GOD!"

Just saying those final words had pushed her into a small climax. She breathed uncontrollably fast for a moment, and felt a sudden rush of moisture between her legs. She marveled, again, that mere words could be so exciting.

He had seen it, of course, and to Jane’s surprise he suddenly smiled, as if pleased for her.

He laid a hand gently on the side of her face and asked, "Did you just come?" And when he saw her puzzled look continued, explaining, "Have an orgasm? You know, that really nice feeling, here?"

He slipped his fingers between her legs and stroked her there once or twice, making her gasp, almost making her come again. She managed to nod.

"Oh, that’s great...I like that." He smiled again, and kissed her, happily, as if he was proud of her.

When he had finished she smiled back at him, still aroused, her eyes half shut with it, and said, barely above a whisper, "But I still...want your cock in my mouth."

And was thrilled to see him flush and close his eyes, and to hear a small groan escape from him.

He came and stood between her thighs, his legs almost touching her chair, so that the bulge in his pants was only a few inches from her face. She watched as he unfastened the top of his pants and began, with deliberate slowness, to unzip them. She was a little surprised when his cock sprang into view without any further preliminaries, but found the combination of dressy clothes and no underwear exciting.

His pants dropped to the floor, something in his pockets making a small metallic jingle when they hit.

He stood still for a moment, letting her look at him there.

Then he took the shaft in his hand and began to do what he had done with his finger, using the tip of his cock to trace the outline of her mouth, teasing her with it. Rubbing the head back and forth across her lips; pulling it away if she tried to kiss or lick it, until she was moaning with equal amounts of desire and frustration.

Finally he allowed her to take it into her mouth, whereupon she immediately took her revenge: first running her tongue down the length of his shaft as far as she could, making him moan in return, then seizing the head between her teeth and biting down—not hard, not much at all, really, but enough to cut him off in mid-moan, and make him look down at her with fear in his eyes.

She worried it just a little, like a dog with an especially tasty bone, looking up at him and smiling as if to say, ‘who’s helpless now?’ Then, without loosening her grip, she began to tease it with the very tip of her tongue, just barely touching him with it, giving only the tiniest, shortest little caresses in different spots, with long pauses in between—driving him crazy with frustration and thus paying him back in kind. She felt his hand on the back of her head, and knew that he wanted to push himself the rest of the way into her mouth. And knew also that he would not.

It was not until he began to plead, incoherently—saying things like, "Oh god...oh please...let...please..."—that she relented, suddenly opening her mouth wide and taking in as much of him as she could. She heard him gasp with relief, and then with something else as she continued moving her head up and down on him, her tongue painting broad strokes along the shaft, faster and faster, until he suddenly climaxed, with a loud "Ahhhhhh!" that sounded as much like pain as pleasure, filling her mouth with his juice.

But he suddenly pulled himself out of her mouth before he was done, allowing the last few drops to land on her upper lip and run down her chin. She had swallowed the rest as quickly as she could, and now licked as much of it as she could off her lip, but couldn’t reach what was on her chin, and of course was helpless to wipe it off in any other way.

She had a sudden picture of her face—the stylishly arranged hair, the dancing silver earrings, the painstakingly applied eyeshadow, rouge and lipstick (though she doubted that there was much left of the latter)—and now, the juice from his cock on her chin. Something about that contrast, like the contrast between wearing her elegant party dress and having it bunched up around her breasts while forced to sit with her legs apart, the wet spot between them in full view, made her want to swoon.

He had mostly recovered from his climax and was looking at her as if trying to guess her thoughts. He said, "What I just did in your mouth...that’s also called ‘coming’. And that stuff on your chin that came out of me is called a lot of things, but most people just call it ‘come’."

He smiled to himself before continuing, "So your English teacher would give you an ‘A’ in grammar if you said, ‘He came in my mouth, and I have his come on my chin.’

She pictured herself in front of the class, writing that phrase on the blackboard, then turning around to show them that it was in fact still on her chin. She giggled, and he laughed with her.

He reached down and pulled up his pants, beginning to zip and fasten them, tucking his cock carefully away. She wondered, with a sinking feeling, if that was all. Whether now they were just going to go their separate ways.

After he had finished tidying himself up, he reached into the pocket of his sport coat, and pulled something out. Then he said, "Remember these?" And proceeded to unfold, and hold up before her face, her valentine panties.

It was obvious that they hadn’t been washed since that day in the library. Not only was there a discolored stain in the crotch, from when he had made her touch herself, but there were several other stains as well—more, she realized, than could be accounted for by that night outside her window. So he must have been regularly using her panties to… Oh god, that was so sweet!

But now he was holding them in one hand and placing the other against her forehead, gently tilting her head back until she was nearly facing the ceiling. Then, with great delicacy, he draped the valentine panties over her face.

Oh god, the smell!

She cried out, "No!" and struggled to straighten her neck, shake her head—anything to get them off her face! But his hands were there now, cupping her chin and the back of her head. She struggled a moment longer, even tried to blow them off with her mouth, to no avail. So finally, she acquiesced, and took several deep breaths.

As she did she felt him leaning close to her ear as he said, in a low voice, "That’s what your pussy smells like."

‘Pussy?’ she thought. Is that what he calls it?

As if he’d heard her, he continued, "Some people like the word ‘cunt’, but that sounds too harsh to me for something so nice."

She thought to herself that ‘nice’ was not a word she would apply to what she was currently inhaling.

Then he asked, "What else do you smell?"

She took another deep sniff. Now that she was used to it, the stale, musky odor of her own juices was not as overwhelming, and she could make out another odor, one that she recognized immediately, since she had just had its source in her mouth.

"Your...come." she answered, her voice muffled by the fabric.

"Very good."

The panties were lifted from her face, and he helped her lift her head into its normal position. He said, "You still have some on your chin, you know."

He had been turning her panties inside out as he said this, and now he slipped them over his open hand, the stained crotch at his fingertips, and used them to wipe the dribble of semen from her chin.

Then he brought it up to her mouth and said, "Lick."

Oh god, he wanted her to lick his come out of her dirty, smelly panties! And he’d even turned them inside out, so she’d be licking the part that had been right next to her...pussy.

It was completely, unbelievably disgusting.

And, oh god, she was going to do it!

She stared at him with something like defiance, not looking down even once as she put out her tongue and began to lick: Once, twice...a dozen times. Deep, full licks, as if she wanted to lick the entire crotch clean. It didn’t taste much different from what she’d smelled.

When she was done she simply pulled her tongue back into her mouth, and continued to glare at him.

He leaned down then, and kissed her, his hand cupping the back of her head—and for the first time she felt his tongue there, probing every part of her mouth as if trying to scour the foul taste from it.

Then he straightened up and, while tucking the panties back in his pocket, said, "I think that deserves a reward."

He knelt before her again, and untangled her dress from the cord, pulling it down and smoothing it over her knees. He untied the cords from her feet and chest, then went behind her and removed his necktie from her wrists.

She brought her hands forward to her lap and tried to stretch her shoulders, which were stiff and aching slightly. He came and sat cross-legged on the floor beside her, holding one of her hands as he kissed and massaged her wrist. He switched sides and did the same with her other wrist. Then he rose and stood behind her and began to massage the top of her head with his fingertips.

Heavenly. She sighed and leaned back against his hands as his fingers worked their way slowly down to her temples. Mmmm…

She allowed her mind to drift. She thought about him, and all the different people he seemed to be. She wanted to ask him about all the strange things they had been doing. Whether other people did them. Whether he really liked her.

His fingers moved along the bones above her ears, found the soft spots where the back of her head joined her neck. So soothing. She wanted to ask him why he could do nice things like this and disgusting things like making her lick her own soiled panties.

And how he knew she’d like them both.

That was the one question around which all the others circled. Was there something wrong with her, that she had not only allowed such things to happen, but was even beginning to encourage them?

Because she had not only come to the dance tonight wearing the lingerie he had given her, but had deliberately, provocatively, lured him away, knowing full well that she would wind up doing things that nice girls should not even know about, never mind allow. Or enjoy.

Her teen magazines gravely discussed the perils of allowing boys to kiss you too soon—and tonight she had asked him to put his cock in her mouth. She was so confused. Ashamed. And suddenly felt like crying.

"Peter?" It was almost a sob.

He had been gently kneading the tendons of her neck and she felt his fingers suddenly become still. She had never called him by name before. Not once. But he must have heard the sorrow in her voice because he immediately came and knelt by her side. He took her hands and looked up at her, his concern obvious. She saw it, and for some reason the genuineness of it made her tears overflow, a mixture of sadness and relief.

She watched him fumble in his pockets for a handkerchief, come up with her panties and quickly stuff them back in his pocket. It made her want to laugh through her tears; a moment ago he’d been making her lick them and now they weren’t good enough to blot her tears with. She loved him for that. He finally settled for soaking them up with his tie.

He said nothing, but his eyes were questioning, compassionate.

When she had gotten herself enough under control to speak, she looked down, unable to meet his eyes, and asked, in a low voice, "Do you really think I’m...a slut?"

She heard shock in his voice as he replied, "Oh. Oh no. That was… Oh no...I.... Here, let me..."

He stood and, taking hold of her hands, drew her to her feet. He sat down in the chair and gently tugged her into his lap, cradling her in his arms. She could see he was upset.

He continued to stammer. "I-I’m so sorry. I thought you knew it was...it was just...just part of..." He searched for the right words, failed and ended lamely with, "...all this.", waving vaguely around them. "I thought you liked saying it. Or having me say it. I never thought you’d… Jane, I’m so sorry..."

He was looking down, but she was astonished to see unshed tears in his eyes. Her head was resting on his shoulder, and she murmured, just loudly enough to reach his ear, "I did like it...tonight. But that first time, in the girls’ bathroom… You were so mean to me and I was so scared..."

She began to cry in earnest. He looked around wildly, but he’d left his tie on the floor. Which was too bad, because now he began to cry as well.

"I know...I know. I don’t know why I had to..."

For a long moment he simply sat there with tears running down his face. Then he took a long, sobbing breath and said, "It’s just that… I wanted to...so much...for so long. And I thought nobody would ever like me enough. And when I saw you that night, and knew you were the one who’d been who’d been stealing..."

His voice ran out at this point and he continued to look down. After a while he sighed and finished with, "And I just thought I could make you let me touch you."

Another moment passed. Then he looked up at her and said, with a ghost of a smile, "But I never really thought you’d say yes. When I started saying all that stuff about punishing you I was sure you were going to tell me to get lost."

She sat up and looked at him. "But you said you were going to tell..."

"I know, I know. But I’d never really have told on you, honest. I was just using that as an excuse, so you’d let me... And I never thought… I figured maybe I could get you to let me, you know, touch your breasts, or look up your dress. But when you kept going along with me, kept...doing what I told you.... I...couldn’t stop. Even when I made you cry… I’m sorry, I...I just couldn’t..."

He shook his head sorrowfully at the memory of it, tears still running down his face, but now more slowly. Then he looked back at her and said, "But I thought...some of it, you… Didn’t you like some of it? I thought..."

She thought back to that day and said, softly, "Yes. Even that first time, once I wasn’t so scared of you, I...kind of liked having you tell me what to do. It made me feel...I don’t know...bad and good at the same time."

His eyes had widened while she said this. "Really? You mean it? You liked it? I mean, all the other stuff? Tonight? I mean, tonight you really seemed to..."

She kissed him then, and said, "Yes, Peter. I really liked what we did tonight."

And heard him say, "Oh god..." and start to cry all over again, hugging her tightly.

She managed to reach down and snag his tie off the floor and began gently patting his face with it.

When he had mostly recovered she said, "Peter...is it all right that I like it? I mean, are we really...weird or something?"

He thought about it, and then shrugged, shaking his head. "I dunno. My old man has some magazines he doesn’t know that I know about. They have pictures of people doing… That’s how I found out about it. Books, too—that’s where all the ‘slave’ stuff came from. But I don’t know if lots of people do it. I mean, who do you ask?" He smiled slightly. "It’s not something you can bring up for discussion at dinner."

She smiled, picked up an imaginary telephone and said, "Mom? I’m going over to Peter’s house to let him tie me up, okay?"

They both laughed. Then Peter looked at her and said, "Seriously. Do you want to stop? We can still, you know, see each other, but I don’t want you to feel..."

She got out of his lap, and stood facing him.

She said, "Please...may I take off my dress for you?"

He made no reply but stood and, taking her by the hand, led her to the foot of the stage, where the light was brightest, and had her stand there, facing outward, her hands loosely at her sides.

Then he went and stood behind her. He leaned forward and whispered, "I hope the audience enjoys this part."

Then he unfastened the clasp at the back of her dress and kissed her bare skin there. Lowered the zipper slightly and kissed her again, his lips moist. Little by little, the zipper was lowered, leaving behind a trail of soft kisses along her spine, except where he had skipped over her bra strap.

She imagined an audience of strangers looking up at her, unable to see what was happening behind her but knowing anyway—maybe it was in the program. She imagined them all looking at her face, trying to read her reactions as the zipper was drawn lower and lower and the kisses became longer...and wetter.

At first, assaulted by memories of classroom disasters, she had tried to control her features, her breathing. But to her surprise she gradually found herself becoming excited by the idea of having something sexy done to her that the audience couldn’t see. She allowed herself to relax; allowed her eyes to close, began to breathe more deeply, her mouth slightly open. In her mind she saw the audience looking at her breasts as they began to rise and fall with her breath, and said, "...Ooooooo." in a long, drawn-out whisper.

By now he had nearly reached the base of her spine, kneeling on the floor and using the tip of his tongue to draw a circle around each knob in her vertebrae as the zipper descended.

When he reached the elastic of her panties, he paused for a moment.

He pulled the zipper the rest of the way down.

Then he leaned forward again and, placing his lips at the base of her spine, slid his tongue inside her panties and as far down between her cheeks as far as he could reach.

She responded with a loud gasp…and imagined a polite round of applause from the audience. He did it again and continued to caress her there with his tongue.

At the same time she felt his hands sliding smoothly up the back of her thighs—still invisible to the audience, she thought—until they reached her buttocks, fondling and molding them through her panties.

She allowed her head to fall back, her breath coming in gasps, letting the audience know everything. She felt him trying to slip a hand between her thighs and spread her legs apart, allowing him to cup and squeeze her sex. She began to make little whimpering cries, not caring if the people in the back row could hear her.

She heard him rise to his feet, and felt the front of her dress rise with him as his hands traveled over her thighs, then her hips and her belly before rising to cup her breasts for a moment—just long enough to give the audience a glimpse, she thought—before letting her dress fall back into place.

Then he reached up and pushed it gently from her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor.

And the crowd goes wild, she thought.

He walked past her and stepped off the stage in the same place as before, again turning to face her.

Now I really have an audience, she thought.

This time, however, because of being so close to the edge of the stage, she could see him clearly, could see him looking at her, enjoying her arousal. She smiled at him then, and slowly raised her arms, clasping her hands behind her head.

He made a little ‘mmmm’ of appreciation as he looked at her. He said, "God—I wish I could tell you how beautiful you look right now, how sexy. I mean, look..." He gestured downward, and she saw that again there was a large bulge pushing against his zipper.

"I love it when you pose for me like that...do you like your new underwear?"

She nodded, smiling.

He continued to look at her, saying, "There’s something… I don’t why, but in some ways it’s sexier to see you like that than to see you with nothing on at all." He thought a moment, then continued, "Maybe it’s because if you have nothing on at all, you’re just...naked. But if you’re standing in front of me in your underwear—especially with your dress down around your ankles like that—then you’re...undressed. It’s, I dunno, sexier somehow. Is that weird?"

She shook her head, and replied "Uh-uh." Then, wanting to reassure him, added, "I...I love having you look at me like this," and saw him smile.

Then she looked at him teasingly and continued, "So I must be a very bad little girl." And saw him close his eyes. Heard him make a soft noise in his throat. And knew she had excited him even more.

He opened his eyes, swallowed, and said, "Are you?"

She nodded and said, "Yes. I’m a very bad little girl."

He led her back to the chair, which he turned around so that its back was facing her.

Had her stand there, feet apart, while he tied her ankles to the chair legs.

He went and picked up her dress, which he folded and placed over the back of the chair.

Then he wrapped one end of a microphone cord around her wrists and used it to draw her slowly forward, then down, so that she was bent over the back of the chair, now cushioned by her dress.

He secured the other end of the cord to a rung at the front of the chair. Then he walked away.

She heard him step off the stage. Imagined him looking at her now, bent over the chair—her behind showing tightly pressed against her panties, with their silly little ruffles, the wetness visible between her spread legs.

She moaned to herself and wished he would hurry back.

After a moment she heard his footsteps approaching.

He came and stood in front of her, so she could see that in his hand he was holding the conductor’s wooden baton. He began to tap it against his palm, and asked her, "What bad things did you do?"

She raised her head to look up at him, and said, "I let a boy tie me up and pull up my dress."

"What else?"

"I let him put...his cock in my mouth."

God, she loved to talk like this! Loved the way it excited them both. She saw that he was now breathing as heavily as she was.

"What else?"

She smiled at him then, and said, as clearly as she was able, "I licked his...come out of my dirty panties." And thought they both might come right then. Oh god!

After a moment, he managed to say, "You mean...these?" bringing them out of his pocket in a wad.

"Yes."

"Open your mouth."

She did so, and he filled her mouth with them. Then he walked out of her sight.

Again he made her wait.

She knew he was standing behind her, but for several moments he did nothing, said nothing.

Then she felt a fingertip traveling slowly across her behind, tracing the top row of ruffles.

Then the middle row.

Then the lowest row.

She felt his hands take hold of her hips, felt him pressing himself to her, his hardness nestling between her buttocks. Felt it rubbing slowly up and down. Felt her panties drawn tightly between her legs with each stroke. Ohhhh...

He was panting with excitement but after a moment managed to pull himself away. She heard him breathing heavily, trying to recover.

After a moment she heard him say, "These are too nice...", and felt her panties slipping down over her behind and mid-way down her thighs. Felt his hand running over the smooth skin of her behind, and heard him say, "Ladies and gentlemen, isn’t this absolutely the nicest, cutest little ass you have ever seen?"

She imagined them all seeing her—panties stretched across her thighs, everything exposed—and applauding enthusiastically. Heard him continue, "Yes, it is...it seems almost a shame, but..."

Even though she knew it was coming, heard the whoosh it made as it traveled through the air toward her, the pain of his first stroke with the baton shocked her—it was so much more intense than when he’d spanked her with the palm of his hand: a thin line of fire across her buttocks.

She allowed herself to cry out, knowing that any sound she made would be muffled.

"Uhhhhnn!"

A pause. Another whoosh...another small explosion of pain that made her hips jerk involuntarily against the chair.

"Uhhhhnn!" Already she could feel tingling welts rising on her skin, the heat spreading across her behind—and inward.

With each additional blow she felt the tingling heat take focus between her legs, making her writhe. She desperately wanted him to touch her there, to stroke her into release, but had no way to tell him.

It was wonderful.

He stopped after the tenth stroke.

She heard the baton drop to the floor. Heard him getting down on knees, close to her. Felt his hands rest lightly on her hips. Felt the tip of his tongue, tracing across one of the burning welts on her behind, cool and soothing, but stirring as well. She tried to say, ‘Ooooo’ but of course it came out as, "Nnnnnn.".

He gave the same tender attention to each welt. He hesitated for a moment. Then she felt his tongue travel slowly up the inside curve of one cheek, withdraw and repeat the process on the other side.

Then again, a little deeper. Getting very close to her… Oh god, was he going to put his tongue up...up her behind? That was even more disgusting than making her lick out her panties!

Oh god, she hoped he would do it!

Instead, he withdrew his tongue.

She heard something that sounded like spitting. And then felt his finger right there, wet, stroking her, gently probing. It was like when he had had his finger in her mouth, only much, much more...what? Nasty? Exciting? Yes!

As his finger probed deeper and deeper inside her, the combination of his violation of her and her helplessness drove her into a frenzy, which only increased as he began to move it rhythmically in and out.

"Unh! Unh! Unh! Unh!"

The finger withdrew.

She heard him rising to his feet. Heard his pants being unzipped and falling to the ground. Heard, again, the spitting sound.

A pause. The spitting sound again.

Oh no! He couldn’t possibly be going to… But it was so big and she was...Oh god!

She felt her buttocks being gently separated. Felt him placing the tip of his cock between them and, using only the slightest pressure, begin to press forward.

Felt herself, unbelievably, opening to receive him.

Felt him withdraw slightly, then press gently forward again. Withdraw, press forward. Withdraw, press forward—a little deeper each time. She felt her insides being stretched, rearranged. It hurt, but not nearly as badly as she’d thought it would.

Oh god, he had his cock up her...her ass! And now he began to move it slowly in and out, and they began to moan in unison, faster and faster as the pace increased, his hips slapping against her buttocks.

Suddenly she felt his hand sliding across the front of her thigh and down between her legs. Felt his finger slide between her lips there and begin to stroke her in rhythm with the movement of his hips.

Oh god, she couldn’t stand it! Her whole body was shuddering as if in an earthquake: she was being torn apart, she was...he was...screaming....!

He collapsed onto her back, gasping, grabbing hold of the chair back to keep from crushing her. He reached down and quickly pulled the panties from her mouth, allowing her to breathe more fully. Oh thank god, she thought, desperate for air.

As soon as he was able to move again he withdrew, quickly pulled up and refastened his pants, then untied her hands and ankles, and helped her to stand.

Then he took her in his arms and held her. She rested her weight against him, barely able to remain standing. They remained that way for a long time.

After a while, he gently balanced her on her own feet, then knelt and slid her new panties the rest of the way down. For a moment she was startled but then realized he was being thoughtful—that he knew she wouldn’t want even that much pressure touching her behind right now.

She stepped out of them and he folded them and handed them to her. He retrieved her dress from the chair and helped her into it, spreading it in a circle on the floor so that all she had to do was stand in the center and let him raise it around her, holding the fabric carefully so that it didn’t brush against her in the wrong place while he zipped and fastened it.

Then, after he had made a quick clean-up of the stage, they left the Band Room: she walking ahead, he following and holding the back of her dress away from her behind, like a courtier holding up the queen’s train.

When they reached the bathroom he had her bend over and lean on a sink, while he raised the back of her dress and soothed her still-stinging cheeks with applications of paper towels soaked in cold water, then delicately cleaned out the area between them with toilet paper.

Suddenly she put her hand to her mouth and began to laugh. She tried to do it quietly, not wanting to get caught at this late date, but was unable to stop. She added her other hand to muffle it. He was staring at her as if she’d gone crazy.

Finally she got herself under control just long enough to sputter, "I...rode...my...b-bike...here!" before collapsing into giggles and rushing out of the bathroom, quickly followed by Peter.

Together they retrieved the garment bag from her locker. Then they took turns walking her bicycle all the way back to her house.

This story was taken from one these sites, check them out to find more sex stories:

https://www.sexsoundlovers.cc/ssl-forum/viewtopic.php?t=11973

https://sexforum.biz/post/126925/#p126925

https://www.shacknews.com/chatty?id=39427711#item_42118677

https://sexcamtalk.com/threads/i-need-viewers.11754/

https://shemaleleaks.com/forum/threads/mila-azul.10830/

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Pub: 25 Nov 2024 21:22 UTC
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