He Huffed, He Puffed, They Made Him Moan
Copyright© 2025 by Eric Ross
Chapter 3: The Brick House Mistress
Fairytale Sex Story: Chapter 3: The Brick House Mistress - This is the TRUE story of the three little Piggs. Wolfgang Lupine "The Big Bad Wolf" thought he could huff and puff and blow their houses down—but the three little Piggs had other plans. Penelope the baker lured him in with cream and curves. Clarabelle the milkmaid milked more than his ego. And Bettina, the brick-house headmistress, made him beg for detention. No bedtime story—this is a filthy fairytale of whips, cream, and squeals of delight. He came to conquer. They made him moan.
Caution: This Fairytale Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Mult Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Fairy Tale Humor BDSM DomSub FemaleDom Light Bond Spanking Group Sex Orgy Cream Pie Food Oral Sex Sex Toys
Everyone in Fairywood feared Bettina Pigg—Headmistress, disciplinarian, and the only woman in the tri-county region who could make grown men apologize for their posture. Her house was made of brick. Her heels were made for punishment. And her patience was wafer-thin.
She ran The Finishing Academy for Proper Young Ladies with the precision of a metronome and the glare of a basilisk. Her pupils walked with books on their heads and shame in their hearts. Her chalk lines were straighter than the spines of her students. She slept in a bed with iron posts, drank her tea unsweetened, and believed frivolity was a gateway drug.
So naturally, she was exactly the kind of woman Wolfgang Lupine couldn’t resist.
Wolf, still smug from his adventures with Penelope and Clarabelle, arrived at Bettina’s doorstep with his shirt freshly laundered and only slightly ripped. He stood before the red brick manor with its wrought-iron fence and polished door knocker shaped like a ruler. He grinned and knocked.
The door creaked open. Bettina stood there, an icy vision in a steel-gray blouse, pencil skirt, and glasses that could cut glass. Her bun was coiled so tightly it might have been under pressure. She gave him a long, cool look. “Mister Lupine. I presume you’re lost.”
He offered his most winning smile. “On the contrary, ma’am. I was hoping for a ... correction.
Her eyes narrowed. “You think you’re clever.”
“I think I’m in need of discipline.”
There was a pause, sharp as a slap.
“Inside. Now.”
The door slammed shut behind him with the finality of a gavel.
The foyer smelled of polish and judgment. Bettina stalked down the hallway, heels clicking like a metronome set to “punish.” She didn’t look back. Wolf followed, grinning.
“You understand,” she said crisply, “this is a school. A sanctuary of decorum.”
“I’m a very fast learner.”
“Good. You’ll be tested.”
She led him to a classroom: rows of tiny desks, a blackboard with handwriting so precise it looked printed, and a long wooden pointer resting like a threat. She gestured to a child-sized chair.
“Sit.”
Wolf obeyed, knees to chin, looking absurd and deliciously eager.
“You will not speak unless addressed. You will not smirk. You will not slouch.” She paced in front of him like a drill sergeant in Louboutins. “If you want to act like a beast, Mister Lupine, you will be treated like one.”
He bit his lip. “Yes, Headmistress.”
Something flickered in her eyes. A crack in the brick. Just for a moment.
“Very well,” she said, lifting the pointer. “Let’s begin your education.”
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