Lesbian MILF Seductress: Pre-MILF

Carol Rowe was our class president and the daughter of our mayor, a girl so fake she pretended to like everyone to their faces but was nasty as hell behind their backs. Although she had most of the teachers snowed, many of her classmates saw through that façade of niceness. And if even Katherine didn't like her, that said a lot since she, unlike me, genuinely liked everyone.

I had first seduced, then blackmailed and finally gently persuaded my first four pets. This time I planned on using a mixture of all those approaches to get to Carol. The good news was that Carol was all about image, and she perceived any threat to her pristine persona as a serious threat indeed. In many ways she was well on her way to becoming a politician, and I don't mean that kindly.

Carol was ensconced in her small office, an office she'd requested to be made available for her when she won the class presidency (no one had run against her), when I began my seduction. I walked in one day and asked, "What are you planning for the Christmas dance?"

"I don't know, our next meeting is tomorrow," she answered, startled by my presence and obviously not interested in hearing any ideas if they came from me.

"The girls and I were thinking of a formal dance," I suggested, although the idea was strictly mine.

"That's a great idea," she said unenthusiastically. It was obvious she was entertaining my idea, but not seriously. "That's not something we've done before."

The idea of making her submit in her own office became very appealing. I studied her as she sat self-importantly behind her desk.

I said, pretending to be fooled and to mean it, "Awesome, I hoped you'd like it." After a pause, I asked, "Can I ask you a personal question?"

She looked at me curiously, but she answered like any politician would. "Depends on the question."

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Get straight A's, serve as class president and also do all the charity stuff you do," I listed, although I'd learned from my pet Kimberly that a lot of her major class assignments were done by the nerd herd (Kimberly and a few others who did it for her because she paid them... rather generously).

"Dedication," she shrugged.

"I'm dedicated too," I countered, although my dedication was to cheerleading and domming girls, "but I'm in awe of how you keep it together. I mean how do you even fit in a boyfriend?"

"Boys are too much work," she tossed off flippantly.

"Oh, so you're a lesbian," I concluded unfairly, "that makes a lot of sense, actually."

"I am most certainly not a lesbian," she corrected, appalled by my logical leap. "I'm just not ready to take time out of my life to date anyone."

"Oh my God, you poor thing," I commiserated, before adding, trying to open a door, "if I didn't have an orgasm every day or two, I'd shrivel up and die."

She smiled, ever so slyly, "I didn't say I don't orgasm."

"Oh? Does our class president have a naughty side?" I asked, raising my eyebrow, trying to force her hand, "because you're seen by our classmates as kind of a prude."

"I don't care what most of my classmates think," she shrugged. "I'm here to graduate, assemble a great resumé and attend college on a full ride."

"But I thought you were class president because you want to make our school a better place," I continued, the set-up working well, as my pocketed phone recorded the whole conversation.

"Just like you really care who wins the football and basketball games?" she countered. "You cheer just so the boys will want to sleep with you and the girls will want to be you."

"Touché," I agreed, all true, although I did want my teams to win, I had school spirit. "So you don't really care about our school?" I asked, already having some good blackmail evidence, but wanting more.

"I do, but only in the sense that it pads my resumé," she shrugged. "You see? You and I aren't much different."

"Oh," I smiled, "but we're very different. Thanks for the chat, and please let me know how my dance suggestion goes."

As I'd anticipated, according to Kimberly who's on the SRC, she explained (after eating me out of course), that Carol had brought up the idea of a formal winter dance, and of course had taken full credit for it.

A couple days later I returned to her office after school, closed her door behind me and said, "I'm very disappointed in you, Carol."

"Excuse me?" she asked, looking up from her laptop.

"You took credit for my idea," I accused.

"Does it really matter whose idea it was?"

"In the larger scope of things," I answered, "not really. But this is another example where you've proven that you're not a good leader for our class."

"So says the cheerleader," she replied sarcastically.

I walked to her desk and closed her laptop.

"What are you doing?" she asked, pissed off.

"It's time you learned who really runs the school," I answered, moving her laptop aside, pushing her chair back and sitting on top of her desk directly in front of her.

"You think it's you?" she taunted me, amused.

"No I don't," I answered, before adding a couple seconds later, "I know it's me."

"Get out of my office," she ordered.

Ignoring her, I continued, "You think you have everyone snowed, but I've always known you were a manipulative bitch. You know why?"

"Do tell. Why?" she asked all dramatically, rolling her eyes.

"Because I'm another manipulative bitch," I shrugged, as I lifted my ass up and hiked up my short cheerleading skirt to reveal my cunt.

"What the heck are you doing?" she asked, shocked.

"Well, we're in here alone, and you could probably use a snack," I shrugged. "Plus, it's time you understood the true hierarchy of this school."

"I'm not a dyke," she said, before standing up and adding, smug just like Laurie had been, "and I run not only the school, but the teachers as well."

"Sit down, bitch," I demanded.

"Fuck you," she shot back, the first time I'd ever heard her swear.

I revealed my ace up my sleeve, "Have you heard that leaving the scene of a hit and run is illegal?"

"W-w-what?" she stammered, her face going white as a sheet.

Everybody slips up. Yes, even I do. It's just that in my case, ever since I started this new life, I was very much on guard against slipping up. Also, being the daughter of the executive administrator for the governor has its perks. Mom came home one day telling me how the mayor's daughter had fled the scene of a hit and run accident, but she'd been caught because of a surveillance camera at a stoplight. The mayor had donated $100,000 to the Governor for her upcoming election run so she'd help keep it out of the papers and make sure his daughter didn't have a criminal record. "How much did it cost your father to keep that a secret?"

"Please, I can give you money," she said, that having worked before.

"I don't want your money, I want your face buried between my legs licking my twat," I said, loving to talk dirty to prudes like her. I then added, "I imagine you've sucked some cock to get where you are, so just think of this as doing whatever it takes to remain in power."

"We can work something out," she said, again just like Laurie, trying desperately to find an angle to escape this situation.

"Oh we're already doing just that," I smiled, opening my legs further, as I snapped my fingers and pointed to the chair. "You will remain President, you will continue to snow the other students and the teachers, and you will be my personal pussy pleaser whenever I need one."

"I'm not a lesbian," she protested, but she did sit down.

"I'm not either, but I do really enjoy watching pretentious girls eat my cunt," I replied, again snapping my fingers, and this time pointing to my cunt.

"But..." she began, but I cut her off.

"Look Carol, I don't have all day. Consider this a business deal. You eat my cunt and I keep your secret," I explained in a very businesslike fashion.

"Fuck," she sighed, easily the most dramatic sigh I'd ever heard, and I'm a cheerleader and used to dramatics.

"Get eating," I ordered, "I really don't have all day."

She reluctantly rolled her chair back in, and tentatively moved her face towards my pussy.

I joked, "Don't worry, I don't bite."

After another brief hesitation, she began licking.

"Good girl," I moaned, as she got started.

I'm sure she wanted to say something witty, but she refrained as she ate away. Like the others who'd snacked on my delicacy, once she got a taste, the licking soon shifted from slow and tentative to fast and eager.

Looking at this bitch between my legs, the usual first-time rush went up my spine. Sure, she was the worst cunt muncher so far, and sure, the orgasm wasn't even close to my best, but I still came all over her face after a few minutes. I filmed the entire scene with my phone to add to the sway I planned to have over her.

Once I was done coming, I looked down at her and said, "You're going to need a lot of practice."

Her face drenched and her eyes betraying her, even as she tried to appear strong, "I'm not doing that ever again."

I laughed, "First, it was obvious you fucking loved eating me out and second, I bet your cunt is soaked."

"Trust me, it's not," she denied, rolling her chair away.

"Show me," I said, calling her bluff.

"I'm not showing you."

"Tell you what," I began, confident I was right. "If your cunt is dry, I'll never bother you again, and I swear your secret will go to the grave with me. But if your cunt is wet, and we both know your panties are sopping right now just like your face, you'll be my pet submissive and I'll be your Mistress."

"Leave," she said, ignoring the deal.

"Avoiding my generous offer?" I smirked. "You really are a politician."

I stood up, went to the door, faced back and warned, "I expect you to be on your knees under your desk tomorrow immediately after school, or else."

Before she could respond, I left.

As expected, the next afternoon she was waiting for me under her desk to begin her training as a pussy pleaser.

Christmas came and so did I and often, serviced by my various pussy pleasers, and it wasn't until we came back from Christmas break that I decided to add another adult to my growing stable of pets. It just seemed natural that my next conquest should be a teacher, and although there were a few to choose from, the hottest was Ms. Martens, a first-year teacher that all the boys drooled over.

6. TAMING THE TEACHER (Ms. Martens)

Since Ms. Martens was a dedicated first-year-out-of-college English teacher who still thought she could make a difference, I knew she always went home late.

When I walked into her classroom after cheerleading practice, as expected, I found her sitting at her desk grading papers.

"Go home, Ms. Martens, you need a social life."

She looked up and laughed, "I could say the same thing to you, Bree. It's almost six o'clock."

"Oh trust me, I have a very active social life," I countered.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, since she didn't have a response to my sexual implications.

I closed her classroom door, happy that her desk was now hidden from any passersby's view, and informed her, "Actually, I hear you have a pretty active social life too."

"Excuse me?" she questioned.

"According to the boys, you often give them some extra motivation after school," I lied, never having heard any such thing. In fact she seemed completely oblivious to all the drooling and hard-ons she caused for the majority of her male students. She was outstandingly pretty.

"That's outrageous," she said.

"I was just thinking that it's so unfair that only the boys get the extra motivation," I said, sauntering over to her. "I mean, I was pretty sure you were a lesbian." This part was actually true, although I wasn't sure why... just a hunch... an inner instinct.

Her face went red at the accusation. Aha! She was a lesbian.

"I knew it," I smiled, reaching her desk. "So I imagine you haven't had any dinner yet."

"I was just leaving," she said, getting restless and uncomfortable, but too late.

"It's okay, Ms. Martens, I brought dinner," I countered seductively, now standing directly next to her, my cunt directly in front of her face if she turned sideways, my flip-up-able cheerleading skirt the only barrier concealing my addictive taste of heaven.

She stammered, not moving, "I-I-I'm your teacher."

"And now you're my teacher pet," I countered.

"I could get fired for that," she said, not really putting up much of a fight, just delaying the inevitable.

I lifted up my skirt, revealing my perfect pussy, and offered, ever so gently, "Go ahead, Ms. Martens, I can see the hunger in your eyes."

To her credit, she didn't lean forward and submit immediately like the others had, but she also didn't look away. She said weakly, "I can't do this."

"But you want to?" I asked.

"Please go, go now." she said desperately, her voice cracking.

Deciding to play hard to get, wanting her to submit to me of her own free will, wanting to heighten the anticipation for us both, I devised a new type of seduction and submission, so I said, "Okay, but when you change your mind, I won't give you this sweet pie so easily." I dropped my skirt and began to walk out, but stopping at the door, I turned and said, "Have a great night, Ms. Martens."

Over the next week, I constantly teased her:

On Monday, I flashed my cunt from the front row while she taught, going sans underwear that day.

On Tuesday, I came in at lunch right after I'd had Carol eat me in her office, handed in my poetry assignment, touched my moist finger to her lips and asked, the scent and taste of my cum lingering even as I removed my finger, "How about a sample taste?" Before she could respond, I again left, hoping I was leaving her wanting more.

On Wednesday morning I'd masturbated, something I seldom did now that I had a few pets to get me off. I'd then wiped my cunt clean with one of my thongs and left it in her purse. Later I whispered to her at the end of class, "Submission is inevitable."

On Thursday, I had Kimberly hand her a small gift before school started: ben wa balls, with a note that I expected them to be inside her all day. After school I returned to her classroom and asked bluntly, "Did you obey, my teacher pet?"

"Bree, this is getting out of hand," she replied, avoiding the question.

"It was a yes or no question," I countered, indicating that I was annoyed.

"You told another student I was your pet?" she asked, mortified.

"No, my pet obeyed her simple instructions," I explained. "She has no idea why she gave them to you, but it's likely she assumes that I've chosen you as my next pet."

"How many pets do you have?" she asked, seeming more in awe of my prowess than mortified by my focus on her.

"You're about to be number six," I answered, as I walked up to her.

Her face went beet red. It was obvious by her expression she was battling with conflicting urges: the moral 'I'm a teacher and I need to be the adult in this situation' vs the immoral 'I'm a submissive lesbian and I'm dying to submit'.

"You still haven't answered my very simple yes or no question," I pointed out.

She went to her desk, pulled open the drawer, removed the ben wa balls and handed them to me. "I can't," she whispered, not able to look me in the eye.

I smiled as I accepted them. "Ms. Martens, may I ask you one question?"

"I guess," she answered, struggling with the temptation lingering before her.

"Is your cunt wet right now?" I asked bluntly.

"Bree!" she gasped, shocked by the question, even though the answer was obvious from the redness in her cheeks and the yearning look in her eyes.

"I'll take it, by the undeniable lust in your eyes, that that your sweet pussy is dripping wet for me," I continued, sensing that her fragile moral resistance was brittle.

"Bree, I need you to leave," she said, still not looking me in the eye.

"Look me in the eyes Ms. Martens, and tell me that twat of yours isn't sticking to your panties because they're so wet," I ordered, continuing my aggressive assault on the beautiful teacher.

She looked me in the eyes and said, her tone firm all of a sudden, "Leave now, Bree."

I smiled, not letting this brief defiance act as a deterrent, and shrugged, "Your loss, Ms. Martens." I turned and walked away again, stopping at the door. "By the way, I always get what I want. And what I want this time is my own pet teacher."

I again left and for the first time I wasn't sure I really was going to get what I wanted.

At school on Friday, I didn't do anything at all except to try and play mind games with her. That said, I could tell she was flustered and my confidence, which had briefly weakened, returned full force. I'd resolved to go for broke, but not at school.

Instead, I would leave the ball in her hands while setting her up for the opportunity to cross the line I believed she was willing to cross. After school, I walked in and told her, "Ms. Martens, I'll be at your house at precisely eight o'clock tonight. I expect to find your front door unlocked, you on your knees in your living room, and dressed in the sexiest lingerie you own."

"Bree," she said, her cheeks going ruby red. "I just can't."

"I know you want this, and you know you want this," I said. "I'm giving you one more chance to submit as my pet teacher, this time in the safety of your home. If you really don't want to submit to me and taste my perfection, then lock your door." I moved to her ear, my hot breath encroaching inside it, "But we both know that deep down you not only want this... you need it... you crave it."

Her breathing was getting heavy as I gently bit her earlobe to tug on her ear and said, "See you at eight," before I walked out, and I believed, leaving her a horny mess.

I waited outside a moment before returning and adding, noticing she still hadn't moved, "Ms. Martens, note that this is your final opportunity. If you don't obey me, then I'll know you aren't interested and I'll leave you alone; but we both know you'll obey."

I again left, pretty confident I was right, yet still a lingering doubt remained.

At eight, I pulled up in front of her house and approached to her front door. This was the moment of truth.

Am I right?

Am I as irresistible as I thought I was?

I took a breath, feeling a slight anxiety at the possibly of being rejected, the rush of seduction being such an addictive source of adrenalin that I wasn't sure what I'd do if I was wrong.

I placed my hand on the door knob and turned. A chill went up my spine and a rush of wetness dampened my pussy as the door opened easily.

I walked in, feeling exhilarated with power as I was greeted by my beautiful, sexy teacher on her knees as instructed. In a red lace bra, matching thong, garter-belt and beige stockings, she looked radiant.

I greeted her as I closed the door, "My pet deserves a reward for obeying her instructions."

I walked over to her, lifted up my skirt and offered her my pussy.

Without a word, only silent obedience, she leaned forward and licked my pussy, the invisible line of propriety finally crossed.

Every seduction is unique, every seduction is a rush, but this one was a new high, since I'd overcome a formidable resistance and a noticeable potential of rejection to add her to my growing collection of pets... plus she was a teacher, which only added to the taboo of it all.

I moaned, "That's it, my teacher pet."

It was obvious as her tongue explored my cunt that she was a very experienced pussy pleaser.

"Is my pet teacher a lesbian?" I asked, after a couple minutes of pleasure, although the affirmative answer had been practically shouted at me in her classroom when I first broached the topic.