Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Blackmail, BDSM, DomSub, MaleDom, Spanking, Humiliation, Sadistic, Water Sports, .
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A young male student gains a position of dominance over his Maths Mistress after he secretly videotapes her seducing him at school. Of course, this doesn't stop him enjoying life with girls his own age too....
Ever since the day you started school at the tender age of four and a half, getting you there on time had been the bane of your poor mother's life. The tantrums, the excuses, the pleadings, the bribes... it had seemed like the hostilities had been ongoing for eternity. But now, suddenly and to your mother's amazement, everything had changed. Now you were springing out of bed almost as soon as the alarm began to ring. Some quick ablutions would follow and then downstairs for coffee and toast before you rushed out the front door. Even some of your neighbours had noticed the change... but some things hadn't altered and your grades had not improved at all. In fact, in some subjects, notably mathematics, you'd got worse Of course, what your neighbours didn't know was that these two symptoms had a common cause in the form of your new mathematics teacher, Mrs Dougherty. To an impartial observer it was a schoolboy crush you had developed about her. A more cynical one might well have put it down as a mixture of lust and raging hormones. To you, however, it was love... and the beginnings of what was to become a life long drive with you, the need to dominate and humiliate the fairer sex. Frankly, your maths grades were going down because that was the best way you could think of to gain more of Mrs Dougherty's time and attention... and the early morning rush to school? That was easily explained away by the fact that the object of your infatuation rode a push bicycle in to work and she always arrived half an hour before the school opened officially. "So what?" an unknowing observer might ask... again a simple answer. Mrs Dougherty had a tendency to wear short, tight dresses or skirts and, as she peddled along, a boy hiding in an appropriate place by the school gates could get a prolonged glimpse of her knickers as she approached, her thighs alternately lifting one side of her hem and then the other...
Today, you noted eagerly, she was wearing red, a fact that would have to be jotted down in your diary later. This being a pleasantly warm autumn day, she was wearing only a bra and thin blouse which allowed you to watch as her boobs moved rhythmically to the right and then to the left in a lazy motion. Down in your pants, something eager stirred, stiffened and start to ooze. God, you wanted her so bad! It wasn't as if you were a virgin - you'd already had Linda Peters (but so had every boy in the class - Linda was well on her way to sluthood) as well as the altogether tougher challenge of Mary Tyler... and even that stuck up Mandy Jefferies who you had persuaded to give you a hand job behind the bike sheds. But Mrs Dougherty... ah.she was something else... a mature woman for a start... a woman with experience... a woman who needed taking down a peg or two... and a woman you were going to have!
Assembly time and, along with the rest of the school, you were standing about awaiting the arrival of the staff upon the raised stage before you. Not that you gave a monkey's toss about the others, but it was a chance to ogle darling Mrs Dougherty from afar. It was odd really because there was little, physically, to recommend her. In her mid thirties, she wasn't the youngest female teacher in the school, nor was she the prettiest for she was fairly plain looking with a few extra pounds about her person than was good for her. But there was something about her that triggered your interest and needs. She had a domineering personality and you were just itching to take her down a peg or two. And then there was the fact that she was a tease. She knew full well the effect that her short skirts and low cut, loose fitting tops had on the boys in her charge... and she adored it. She seemed to get her kicks that way... but one day, you'd teach her not to play with fire.
After boring old Mr Prat, the headmaster, had finished off his talk and a hymn had been sung, the teachers filed down from the stage and took up their stations before the class they were to take first. Unfortunately for you, your first lesson was sex education with Mr Brown... now why couldn't that be with Mrs Dougherty, you thought with a smile. But she the maths mistress had 5B this morning so at least you got to be near enough to her to smell the exhilarating allure of her perfume as she collected her charges. All of which meant that you were in just the right place to see what happened next. As he drew level with you, one of the 5B boys quite blatantly slipped his right hand under the hem of Mrs Dougherty's skirt and goosed her! For a second, nothing seemed to happen, then the teacher yelped, spun round and aimed a slap at the boy's face. The boy, a good three or four inches taller than his victim and several pounds heavier, easily blocked the slap with his left-hand and then drew back his right ready to punch the woman. Acting almost without thinking, you lunged forward and landed a powerful hay-maker on the side of the lad's head. He crashed sideways into the wall and then started to pull himself upright before turning to face you, anger burning deep in his eyes. Then the staff arrived en masse; the lad was hustled away from the scene and the classes bullied back into line and away to their rooms. You never saw the other boy again - expelled, it was rumoured - though it was also said that he'd done the deed for a bet. As you sat at your desk in Sex Education and the girls giggled while Mr Brown battled to get a condom over a rather old and mushy banana and the boys tossed in some very unhelpful suggestions, you played the scene in the gym over and over in your own mind... and the two things that stood out in your memories most were just how long it took Mrs Dougherty to react and the look of bliss on her face just before she yelped...
The morning dragged on but, thank the lord, ten-thirty finally arrived and, with it, mathematics. You and the rest of your class trooped to Mrs Dougherty's territory and you took your seats. You fished out your deliberately error filled homework and settled down to wait. It didn't take long before her shapely legs carried her down the aisles ever closer to you, pausing at each desk on the way to offer encouragement, congratulations or chastisement as the pupil needed. And each time she bent over a desk, her skirt rode up and give you a fleeting glimpse of pale thigh and the treasures beyond. And then it was your turn for the object of your desire was now leaning over you from behind, her blonde hair falling forward and tickling your neck. Sighing, she picked your book up and stood upright. For a long minute, she looked at the work there, tutting aloud, before she moved to the front of your desk and replaced the book. She then placed one hand on each side of the desk and leant frowned. "It's no good, Davies, your work is simply not good enough," she admonished you.
"I'm sorry, Mrs Dougherty," you stammered as she turned her head away to address the rest of the class.
"Davies here hasn't got a clue, class," she went on, but you didn't care for with her gaze elsewhere, you could (and did) take the opportunity to stare down her cleavage at a range almost undreamed of previously. In your pants, John Thomas sprung to attention again like an eager retriever. The valley between her tits went on and on... and there, just there was the start of her white bra. Oh, god, you so much wanted to fondle those breasts... to fondle them and torment them until she begged you to stop...
"... did you understand that, Davies?" The teacher's voice asking a question brought you back to reality.
You glanced around at the smiling faces of your classmates, as if hoping for some inspiration to spring from their faces... but it was not to be. "I... er... I'm sorry Miss... I... erm..." you finally managed to stutter.
Mrs Dougherty sighed with exasperation. "I said, Davies, that you are to stay behind after school for some extra tuition from me in the hope that we can get what currently passes for your grades up. A little one-on-one tuition..." And then she turned and left.
Extra time with Mrs Dougherty! Bliss! Staying in school under those circumstances wasn't a punishment, it was a prize. And what precisely did she mean when she said one-on-one? It was almost a coded message... or maybe she was just teasing you more? And that reference to getting it up...
Your body suddenly jerked and you arrived back in the real world as, from her place across the aisle, Linda placed her hand on you bloated penis and gave it a friendly squeeze. "Down, tiger," she whispered as she squeezed again.
"No! Don't!" you whispered frantically back as the little vixen squeezed a third time... and your spunk exploded into your y-fronts. You sighed heavily and closed your eyes for a second before opening then only to see Linda giving you a knowing smile. You leaned in towards her, "Thanks very bloody much, you randy little cunt!" you hissed but without much rancour.
"My pleasure," she replied and settled back into her chair as Mrs Dougherty finished with the last of the homework and again took up her position at the blackboard. You too leaned back... and tried not to think too much about the now cooling sticky substance coating your flaccid cock...
The rest your day, with one hectic diversion over lunch, seemed to drag terribly but. finally, the 3.45 bell rang and with many a whoop and cheer, two hundred and seventy-eight boys and girls streamed out through the school gates leaving just one eagerly nervous boy behind - you. With butterflies fluttering in your stomach, you headed back towards Room 214 and your meeting with Mrs Dougherty. When you arrived, she was sitting behind her desk, checking some exercise books. The object of your desire (or should that be lust) barely looked up as you knocked timidly on the door but her beckoning finger indicated that your were to enter and to stand before her. Once again, you didn't exactly object to this as it afforded you yet another chance to peer down into the gap between her bust and her blouse. All to quickly, however, she pushed the last book to one side and looked up at you... just affording you time to divert your own gaze away from her boobs.
"So, young mister Davies, what am I going to do with you?" she asked in an exasperated voice.
'I know what I'd like you to do with me, ' you thought to yourself before saying aloud that you didn't really know.
Smiling a wan smile at you, your teacher stood up and walked round to the front of the desk where she hitched herself up onto the surface, the hem of her skirt rising well above her knees, before she commented that she didn't either. "If I didn't know better, Davies, I'd say that you were purposely failing the course for some reason. But that wouldn't be true, now would it?"
Shaking your head, you simultaneously swallowed as Mrs Dougherty casually allowed her knees to part by a few inches. "It's not your desk, but why don't you sit there, Davies, just in front of me and we'll try a few exercises?"
Speechless, you hurried to obey and, as you teacher dictated various mathematical problems, you leaned forward in your seat, forearms on the wooden surface of the desk, scribbling away frantically... and getting a most gorgeous view at those red panties with a few stray dark hairs peeking mischievously passed the gussets. As you watched, her knees slowly spread wider and wider. You licked your dry lips and watched the unfolding scene before you with wonderment. Eventually it dawned on you that Mrs Dougherty had long since stopped speaking and you guiltily raised your eyes and found yourself staring straight into a reflection of yourself in her glasses. She knew where you had been looking... and she knew that you knew... and she didn't make any effort to close her knees.
"And a hero as well. You impressed me today, Davies. That was well done in the hall... and I don't think that I ever got round to saying 'thank you', did I?" You shook you head and she went on, "So I'm saying it now - thank you. Now, get on with your exercises." She stood up, smoothed down her skirt and walked to the door to the right of her desk that lead to a storage cupboard. To call it a cupboard was a bit of an insult for it was easily a quarter the size of the classroom itself and with just as high ceiling. Mrs Dougherty vanished inside and you got back to you problems.
After about ten minutes, her head popped out round the corner of the door and asked if you'd mind giving her a hand for a moment. Eagerly, you hurried to assist... and then came to a shocked halt as you entered the cupboard for your teacher was now only dressed in her high heels, bra and panties. Laughing at the expression on your face, she bid you come in and to close and lock the door. "Can't be too careful," she commented.
"I can tell that you are pleased to see me, Davies... it stands out a mile... or, at least, several inches!" She laughed at her own joke before moving towards you and stroking you on the cheek. You smiled in response and, taking that as a signal to proceed, the woman transferred her roving hand to the back of your neck and, pulling you towards her, pressed her lips against yours. Responding eagerly as any male would, you used you tongue to force a path into her mouth where it could play tag with hers. She responded by wrapping one leg around your hips while you countered by placing both hands on her arse and squeezing. Breaking the kiss, she pulled back a little and smiled at the huge erection thrusting the material of your grey school slacks out. "Ah, my little cumforter," she quipped, her hands reaching out for your belt buckle. "You will, won't you, be my comforter... and cum for me when I desire it?
You backed away making her look disappointed. "I'm... I'm not sure about this," you said trying to sound sincere, "Isn't this a little risky?"
"It's risky, yes... but that adds to the flavour. But you'll be alright, I promise."
"Have you done this before then?"
She smiled again. "Yes... lots of times. Is that a problem?"
"No, of course not."
"And you'd not be here if it wasn't for the fact that Hewlett couldn't keep his hands to himself..."
"The boy this morning from 5B?" you questioned.
"Yes... still, he's water under the bridge now. Why don't you take your jacket off..."
Twenty minutes later, you rolled off the top of Mrs Dougherty and pulled your cock out of her soaking wet and warm and pussy. She laid on her back and smiled as you looked down at her naked form, her legs still spread invitingly wide. "Not bad... clearly not your first time..."
You shock your head thinking that she'd proved to be a demanding but highly talented lover. The constant stream of instructions had been a distraction to you but you had put up with her orders and done your best to fulfil them for you knew you simply had to bid your time and, in the very near future, the positions would be reversed and it would be you telling her what to do.
Accepting a lighted cigarette from her outstretched hand, you took a long drag and ask how this had all started.
"You mean, how long have I been getting boys to screw me? About five years now... ever since poor Mr Dougherty's little accident."
"Little accident?" you pressed.
"Yes... his little accident. His... erm... prick got cut off. It was in all the papers. They managed to sew it back on and he can piss through it just fine but he can't get it up anymore. I had to find a supply of rock hard cock elsewhere... and where could be better than here at work? All I have to do is to flash a bit of tit about, show some knickers... No one's ever turned me down yet."
Thinking about what you'd just heard caused your balls to instinctively shrivel up and try to retreat back into you body. "And... erm... how did this accident happen?"
"Well, I'm sorry to say that my husband was never a 'real' man. He was always wearing my underwear when he thought I wasn't looking. Then one day I came home and found him wearing one of my dresses. I went spare and told him that if he wanted to be a woman, he didn't need a cock. There was a knife laying close by and... well, you can guess the rest."
"You cut it off?" you asked wit dawning horror.
"Yeah," she smiled, "he screamed like a stuck pig. I called an ambulance and when the cops started to ask questions, we said he's had an accident while peeling some potatoes. I'm not at all sure they believed us but since we were both saying the some thing and there was no evidence to the contrary, there wasn't any thing they could do."
"And now he stays at home, keeping house and being the sissy he always wanted to be, while I come out and earn a living. But enough talk - you've had a rest now and I want you to tongue me..."
"No, I don't think so..."
"What do you mean, 'no'. I tell you what to do and you do it with a smile."
"No, I tell you what to do... and now I'll show you why." You stood and, still naked, you clambered up the shelving for a few moments, returning to the floor with three small video cameras. "Handy, having a Drama department. You rather over-signalled your intentions earlier so I liberated the equipment over lunchtime and set it up in here. Everything you've said, everything you've done since entering here is on tape."
You smiled to yourself as the blood drained out of the bitch's face. "But... but..." she stammered before you slapped her face, hard.
"I didn't give you permission to speak! Now, this husband of yours - does he have a maid's outfit?"
"Yes... a full French maid... ultra short skirt, apron, the works..."
"Right - call him on your mobile and tell him to lay it out on your bed. Then he's to set about getting dinner ready. Lets see... I want a nice prawn cocktail... steak, medium rare... chips, peas, mushrooms, onion rings... a good French bottle of red to wash it down... followed by ice cream with hot chocolate sauce. Can he manage that?"
"Yes, I'm sure he can. He's really..." Again you slapped her, this time on the other cheek and you watched as her breasts wobbled enticingly in reaction.
"I don't want a speech just a simple confirmation."
"And call me Master."
"Yes, Master," she spat, venom in her voice now. You realised instantly that you had to gain control again before her anger took over and so you simply replayed the scene of your arrival in the cupboard back to her. Any impartial observer this would instantly and correctly have concluded that it was the mature woman who had used her charms to seduce an innocent schoolboy. Once again her eyes fell and this time, when she spoke, it was in respectful tones. "Yes, Master." You smiled to yourself... you had won! She was a broken woman, your slave... and you enjoyed the sound of her calling you Master. You resolved to make it your life's ambition to have as many women call you that as possible.
"Make the call."
"But, Master... the phone is in my desk."
"So go and get it."
"Very well, Master," she responded, bending down to pick up her knickers.
"And who said you could dress?"
"No one Master... but I can't go out there like this... someone might see..."
"That's just a risk you'll have to take," you informed her with a grin. Nervously she unlocked the door before peering around the jam. Clearly the coast must have been clear for she scampered out, returning shortly with the phone. The call was soon made and the dinner arranged for one person to be ready at seven.
"Hand me my clothes, slave," you ordered and Mrs Dougherty hastened to obey. As you dressed, you gave her permission to put her skirt and blouse back on... but not her undergarments. "Now, lay on the floor on your back," you instructed. "Stretch your arms above your head..."
When you were satisfied with her positioning, you stepped over her and positioned yourself so you were standing astride her prone form, one foot on either side of her bum. You then unzipped your fly and pulled out your cock. Horror slowly etched itself on your slave's face as she realised what you were going to do... and do it you did. Your steaming yellow piss gushed out and described a graceful arc that ended in the area surrounding her breasts. Swaying your cock about a bit, you made sure that her blouse was soaked, an action that caused it to go almost transparent and to stick to her flesh like a second skin. You smiled at the result for you could clearly see her nipples through the material.
"Now, stand up. You will go straight to your bicycle and peddle home. You will no attempt to conceal the state of your attire at any point during the journey Once back at your house, you will shower and change into the maid's outfit. You will not wear a bra or panties but stockings and suspenders are a must. Have a drink waiting for me when I arrive. Is this all clear?"
"Yes, Master, very clear."
"Good. Off you go then..." And, as your first slave left on her initial mission, you smiled and started to plan more humiliations to pile upon her...