Chapter 3: Felicity, Horny, Little Schoolgirl

Note: Mary gave her father teenage Felicity to be his slave. Thanks to b0b for beta reading this! Wednesday, June 19th, 2013 – Felicity Rye – Tacoma, WA

Being a slave was a new experience for me, and I wasn't exactly sure what was required of me. Yesterday, my former Mistress—the beautiful Mary who had taken my virginity that wonderful afternoon when Mark had brought my friend April and me home with him—had given me to her father, Mr. Sullivan, to be his slave. He was a gentle man, and a gentle lover, and last night had been a wonderful experience.

But he had left for work an hour ago. He was a teacher at Washington High School and today was the final day of the school year. "Buy yourself some clothes and toiletries," he had ordered, leaving the keys to his pickup truck and a credit card.

Shopping sounded like fun, and the mall would be open soon. I hopped into the pickup truck and nervously drove to the South Hill Mall. I was used to driving my mom's Geo Metro, a tiny car compared to Mr. Sullivan's beast of a truck. But I managed.

As I shopped, I wondered if Mr. Sullivan had ever fooled around with one of his students. Given how much he loved my young, teenage body last night, I bet he definitely has wanted to. If he couldn't fuck his own students, then I would be his horny, little schoolgirl. I had watched enough porn to know what he'd want, so I headed to Hot Topic. There I found the perfect outfit. I just needed to try it on.

A surly girl named Becky unlocked the changing room, muttering, "Why did that stupid slut Anne quit. First Lillian and now her. They don't pay me enough to work this early."

"Sorry," I muttered, giving her a shrug.

"Whatev," she muttered, yawning. "Give a holler if you need any..." Another yawn widened her pouty lips. " ... help."

I quickly tried on the outfit, and smiled as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I looked hot! I had a cute face with sparkling, hazel eyes. My long, black hair, gathered in a French braid, fell across my left shoulder, contrasting against the white, low-cut blouse that showed off my nicely-rounded tits. The skirt—pink-and-black tartan, so cute yet so naughty at the same time—was short, barely covering my ass. I bent over, and smiled; I could see the plain, white panties molded to my pussy. Just like the sluts in the pornos. I would need to get some knee high socks, and some nice heels, then Mr. Sullivan's jaw would drop all the way to the floor when he sees me.

School was letting out when I arrived at Washington High School. Excited teenagers, thrilled to be done with school for the summer, streamed by. I walked through the halls wearing a light, violet jacket to hide the inappropriateness of my outfit. It wouldn't do to get stopped by some prudish teacher who'd mistaken me for an actual student. Thanks to a helpful boy, I found my way to Mr. Sullivan's classroom.

The halls were emptied by the time I reached his classroom. Alone, I slipped out of the coat before I opened the door to his classroom. In the sweetest, sexiest schoolgirl voice I could muster, I cooed: "Mr. Sullivan, I really need help with my grammar." He was an English teacher; his classroom full of posters talking about grammar rules or quotes from famous literature.

His jaw didn't drop to the floor, but it certainly fell wide open when he saw me. Mr. Sullivan was the epitome of the hip teacher: his long, red hair pulled back into a ponytail, only starting to gray with age, and a close-trimmed red beard gave him a rugged, handsome cast to his face, only spoiled by the start of a middle-aged gut. He dressed in a blue jeans, a casual shirt, and black blazer.

"Well, well, well, Miss Rye," he smiled, gathering his surprise. "I guess I can find some time to help you with your grammar."

I skipped to the desk. I could feel the skirt rising up, exposing the plain, modest panties I wore. They were two sizes too small, and the gusset molded to my pussy, giving me a pronounced cameltoe. His eyes were glued to my crotch. When I reached his desk, I perched on the corner, crossing my thighs and flashing my panties.

"I just don't get verb endings," I girlish said, grabbing a pen from his desk and cutely sucking it, letting my tongue slide suggestively about the tip. I saw that in a porno once. I think porn had corrupted me, after watching the studs fuck the whores, none of the boys in my school stacked up, and I never let any date me. But now I had an older, sexier teacher to be my lover, and he knew how to fuck.

He shifted in his chair; I could just make out the large bulge in his pants. "What do you need to know."

"Well, fellatio," I asked. "It ends with that 'io'. How do you possibly conjugate that?"

"That's because 'fellatio' is a noun," he explained. "The verb is 'to fellate', Miss Rye."

"Ohh," I said, opening my eyes wide. "So, if I were to slip to the floor, unzip your pants, and pull out your penis, I would be about to fellate you."

I slipped to the floor, my fingers rubbing at the crotch of his pants.

"Yes," he hoarsely answered, breathing heavily.

The zipper rasped metallically. His cock was already half-hard, and I gave it a quick, playful lick, then I sucked it into my mouth ever so briefly. "Now I'm fellating you, right?"

"Uh-huh," he grunted as I slurped his cock back into my lips, bobbing my head. "How will you conjugate 'to fellate' once you've finished, Miss Rye?"

I popped the pink shaft out of my mouth. "I have fellated you."

He rubbed my hair. "Very good. Of course, you haven't finished fellating me."

"Sorry, Mr. Sullivan."

I savored the salty flavor, the warm feel of his dick, and they way it throbbed beneath my fist as I stroked the base. My little pussy soaked through the crotch of my panties as I rubbed my fingers through my panties, pushing into my slit and brushing my hard clit through.

"Oh, that's a very good blowjob, Miss Rye!"

I looked innocently up at him, asking, "What's a blowjob?"

"Another name for fellatio."

I giggled. "How strange; I'm sucking, not blowing."

"You're not sucking right now," he pointed out.

"Sorry, Mr. Sullivan." I sucked his dick right back into my mouth.

"Hmm, that's a good girl." He ran his fingers through my black hair. "You can also call it a hummer, oral sex, a BJ, and cock gobbling."

Really, cock gobbling? I didn't interrupt my blowjob to ask if that was a real word. His hands gripped my head, gently guiding my bobs. I rubbed harder at my pussy, pushing the gusset to the side so I could shove two fingers into my dripping hole. Since Mary popped my cherry with her strap-on, I could really dig my fingers deep into my velvety hole.

"Sometimes, the guy uses the girl's mouth as a pussy," Mr. Sullivan moaned. "He holds her head in place and face fucks her." His grip tightened, then his hips started thrusting into my mouth. "You're such a quick learner," he moaned. "Take my dick, slut!"

I relaxed, letting him use me as hard as he wanted; I was his slave, after all! It was so exciting being at her mercy while kneeling on the classroom floor. My thumb found my hard clit, massaging the bud with hard, slow circles while my fingers wiggled deeper inside my pussy.

"An advanced technique of fellatio is known as 'deep-throating'. The girl relaxes her throat and swallows the man's entire cock." He pushed my head down, the tip of his dick brushing the back of my throat. I wanted to panic, to push away from him as he continued pulling me down his shaft. "Relax," he whispered. "Just relax and swallow."

I pushed through my panic; my desire to obey Mr. Sullivan far stronger than my fear. I swallowed; his cock pushed past my tonsils sliding into my throat. My face buried into his red pubic hair. His moan was full of appreciation.

I came.

I groaned, my throat humming with passion, as my orgasm blew through me like a gentle breeze across a meadow of wildflowers. I was just a beautiful daisy, waving in the winds of rapture. Mr Sullivan came hard a moment later. I didn't know whether it was deep-throating my sixteen-year-old mouth or the way my throat hummed as I came that sent Mr. Sullivan over the edge. All I cared was how thick his cum was and how wonderfully salty he tasted. I swallowed every creamy drop.

"You are a quick study, Miss Rye," he groaned.

He let go of my head and I slid off his cock, a last squirt of cum landing into my mouth. I swirled the thick cum between my tongue and teeth, savoring the wonderful, salty flavor. I gave his softening dick a quick lick, gazing up at him with a wide-eyed smile. "Now I've fellated you."

His hand gripped my black braid. "Yes, you have," he sternly said. "But performing a sexual act at school is a very serious offense. I'm going to have to punish you, Miss Rye."

I let my eyes open even wider, adding a tremble to my voice, "Oh, no! I am so sorry, Mr. Sullivan. I was just so carried away with my studies."

"I understand. But there's a zero tolerance policy for this sort of behavior." He pulled up on my braid, yanking me to my feet. "I'm afraid you'll have to be spanked. Bend over my desk."

"Yes, Mr. Sullivan," I meekly answered.

Getting spanked sounded terribly exciting. I may have been a virgin a week ago, but that didn't stop me from watching far too much porn. Girls always seemed to enjoy getting spanked in the videos; I was fascinated to find out why, and so was my naughty pussy; another flood of juices leaked into my panties.

I bent over, my skirt riding up to expose my pantied ass.

He tutted his lips. "Your panties are soaking wet. Were you masturbating as well?"

"I was, Mr. Sullivan."

"I'm afraid that will be another ten spankings," he answered. "Pull your panties down to your knees."

A surge of shame passed excitingly through me as I reached back and pulled my panties down. The air was cool on my exposed ass. I moaned, shivering in pleasure as his finger ran the length of my vulva, sliding through my neatly trimmed, black bush. There was something so ... helpless about the situation. I was vulnerable, at the mercy of this strong man. He could do whatever he wanted to me. Fuck, no wonder those girls seemed so excited in the pornos.

Stinging pain flared upon my ass as the first spank landed. "Count," he ordered."

"One, Mr. Sullivan," I moaned. So helpless. My little pussy burned with lust.

Smack!

"Two, Mr. Sullivan."

His hand lingered, giving my butt a squeeze. The third slap landed on my left cheek. The pain left a warm, naughty feeling on my ass. Every spanking sent a stinging spike of pain through my butt-cheeks right to my pussy. The degradation, the shame, mixed together and was consumed in my womb, bringing me closer and closer to boiling over. Every spank made me wetter, my voice growing louder and more hoarse as I was overcome by passion.