Schoolgirl Domme Ch. 04

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Things come to a climax - in many ways.
4.3k words
4.47
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11

Part 4 of the 4 part series

Updated 10/31/2022
Created 09/01/2013
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I still had three quarters of an hour to kill. Something told me it would be better to arrive at Belinda's bang on time. I saw a café that looked all right and went in.

It was the usual early evening crowd. Mostly people on their way home from work, one man on his own ordering something to eat, a group of foreign students visiting London. I bought a cup of tea and sat down by the window. I needed something to distract my mind so I went and took down one of the newspapers they provided for customers. The good ones had gone so I made do with a tabloid. I can't even remember which one. I sat idly turning the pages, hardly glancing at what was on them.

But I took one thing in. Someone was looking at me.

I glanced across at her. Her eyes looked down quickly, as if she'd been caught staring at me. I'd briefly registered her as I came in: she reminded me of someone, though I couldn't place it. A cascade of blonde curls (could they be real?) and a rather flashy scarf wrapped over her coat. She had a bit too much make-up, to be honest, but she had a very pretty face. Very pretty. She looked – well, she looked a bit trashy, to be honest. I even wondered vaguely if she was a tart grabbing a bite to eat before the night shift. Then I noticed what she was reading: The Times. Well that put me and my tabloid in my place. I smiled ruefully at my own prejudice – why should I assume girls like her wouldn't read a serious newspaper? I had probably got her entirely wrong.

I looked back at my paper but I noticed out of the corner of my eye that she was sending a text. Then she got the reply and her smile suggested she was happy with it. She finished her cup, gathered her paper, and left.

I looked at my watch. Still another fifteen minutes before I needed to go. I picked up the bag and checked inside: the school blazer, skirt and tie were all in there. And I was wearing the white shirt.

Excitement gripped me. My pulse was racing. But I was determined not to back out. Not after what happened back then.

* * *

I could still remember – it would difficult to forget – how Belinda told me. I was still tied up on the living room carpet, my wrists handcuffed, my ankles shackled, a ball gag in my mouth and – oh heaven! – a butt plug up my arse. Belinda and Marion were having a glass of wine in front of the telly – I remember telling myself that not being allowed to watch television was one of the things I would need to get used to now – when Belinda suddenly said, "Mum, those boys – the ones who wouldn't leave Fran and me alone tonight. I've invited them to the party tomorrow night. They're coming here first and then we'll all go together on the tube."

"That sounds nice, dear.

"Could I have your slut for the evening?"

"Oh. I was hoping to start work on her arse. But if you insist."

"I'll bring her back. Don't worry."

"Well, since it's you."

So the next evening we all gathered at Belinda's and got dressed for the school uniform party. Fran and I wore standard School Disco outfits: white shirts open to show some cleavage, ties knotted well down our fronts, short skirts and fishnet stockings. I felt a brief pang of regret when I saw Fran dressed as a gorgeous sexy schoolgirl, but I told myself this too was one of the things I would have to get used to. Belinda was still getting changed when the doorbell rang and Marion opened it to the two boys.

They were very nice. I don't know why I should sound surprised: maybe from the way Belinda had talked about them not leaving her alone the previous night I had imagined them larger and more obnoxious. They were both quite slightly built and they seemed a bit nervous. They didn't really know anyone except having met Belinda and Fran the night before, and it didn't sound as if that had gone particularly well. They wouldn't know anyone at all at the party, though that was true of Fran and me too. I got the impression each had only come because the other one did: perhaps it was a dare.

Poor boys. School uniform parties do everything for girls and very little for boys. Girls can dress as sexy schoolgirl vamps in outfits that bear little resemblance to what they would actually wear to school. Boys, on the other hand, wear pretty much what they wear to school. Like Belinda and me these two had left school now, but in their uniforms – blazers, ties, slightly loose collars – they looked as if they had just come from the last lesson of the day.

They introduced themselves. Simon had floppy blonde hair, which hung over one eye in the fashion of the day; Martin had darker hair and wore it shorter and more sensibly. We introduced ourselves – I noticed that Fran used her real name but didn't say she was a teacher. We all sat down and made small talk, and then Belinda came in.

She'd upstaged all of us. Of course. She wore her white school blouse with her collar up, undone to the waist over a black t-shirt. Her school tie was tied round her waist, like a belt. She had put on a short black leather skirt, fishnet stockings and a pair of high black boots. She was in charge that night, and she knew it.

"Everyone ready?" she asked.

"I just need to go to the loo," I said.

I slipped into the corridor. I wanted to see Marion. She was there.

"You look good enough to eat, you sexy bitch."

"So do you."

We kissed, a deep lingering kiss. I ran my tongue along her lips; she shuddered. Her hand went to my cunt. I felt her fingers pressing against my clit. With her other hand she put a finger in my mouth for me to suck.

"What are you?"

"I'm your lesbian schoolgirl slut, mummy."

"And what's mummy going to do when you get home?"

"Mummy's going to fuck me like the whore I am."

"Good girl. Until then, you are Belinda's slave. Understand? You obey her as you would me."

"Yes, mummy."

"There's my good little girl. Have a good time, then."

And we all set off.

The tube was fun. Everyone was looking at our sexy school uniforms. To my surprise, it was Fran who played up to it most obviously, catching people's eye deliberately, playing with her tie, even undoing one of the buttons of her shirt. Belinda stayed as normal as if she was a morning commuter on her way to work. It added to the mood of excitement as we got to Wimbledon and found the address.

It was a big house and the party was just getting going when we arrived. Everyone was in school uniform: for me it was heaven. We met David, the boy whose birthday it was. Apparently he and Belinda had known each other since they were little. He didn't at all mind us coming to his party, especially as we'd brought bottles. And especially as we were dressed as we were.

It was actually a really good party. Good music, which had everyone dancing, plenty of wine and David's parents had prepared a rather fine hot buffet. We danced and got to know the boys. They were still a bit shy, but Fran and I talked with them – Belinda knew some of David's friends and had left us on our own for a while – and then we all had a couple of dances. They loosened their ties a bit more – oh, delicious – and we even all had a slow dance, which had somehow got into the mix a bit too early in the evening. It still felt a bit early when I realised Belinda was saying good night to David and collecting us.

"I was just getting into it," Fran grumbled.

I had an inkling of what was coming next and stayed quiet. I think the boys did too: they seemed quiet and nervous.

"Come on: we're going back to the flat," Belinda announced. "The evening has hardly started."

She was right there.

Back home (home? It was beginning to feel like it) we climbed the stairs with a sort of suppressed excitement, as if we couldn't quite believe this was going to happen. As soon as the door opened, though, I knew it would.

Marion had turned the lights down and there was music playing softly in the background. And as we came into the room I saw – and so did the boys – that she had left the porn mags open on the coffee table and a couple of dildos: thick ones, shaped like cocks. Very thoughtful of her.

The boys were wide-eyed: I don't suppose they knew such things existed and were wondering what on earth they'd got themselves into. I glanced towards the mirror. Marion would be there, watching.

"First things first. Trixie – get us all drinks."

The boys looked lost. Who was Trixie? Fran – well, Trixie – brought over a bottle of wine and five glasses. Martin and Simon were looking through the porn mags and trying to look as if their interest was purely academic. It didn't work.

"Next," Belinda announced and snapped her fingers at Trixie and me. We looked at each other and both stood up. She pointed at the floor and together we both knelt. I stole a glance at Trixie; she smiled at me. The idea of being a slave alongside Fran, my teacher, was just bliss. Belinda had gone to the drawer and taken out our collars. Fran obediently lowered her head to allow Belinda to put it on her, then I did the same. The boys just stared, open-mouthed. Belinda turned to them.

"These two sluts are both my personal sex slaves. They will do whatever I tell them to. Just for the moment, you two can sit back and enjoy the show."

She changed the music and put on some Donna Summer.

"Right, you two, let's see you dance."

Trixie's eyes lit up. We started to move together to the music, writhing round each other, Trixie pressing her cunt into my leg as I ran my hand over her firm tits. Now she was licking my neck, long big slurps and tickling my ear with her tongue. I moved my hands onto her bum and drew her close to me. She put her arms around my neck, I pulled her towards me with her tie. Now we were kissing, deeply, her cunt thrusting into me. She moved behind me, pressing her cunt into my bum, as if she was fucking my arse. Her hands were on my tits, and my hands were on top of hers. I looked at the boys. They were staring, transfixed.

Now Trixie had me bent over and was play-spanking me, looking all the time at the boys. Their erections were obvious, pressing up inside their trousers. And now Belinda moved in and handed us both a dildo to play with. I took my lead from Trixie: she obviously knew what to do. She pulled away from me and danced in front of the boys, her legs apart, licking all along the dildo. I joined her, licking my dildo as if it was an ice cream. Trixie was sucking hers, taking it right into her mouth; I sucked mine, slobbering over it, wetting it. Then Trixie took the dildo from my mouth and licked it herself. We linked arms and sucked each other's dildos.

Then Belinda came over and whispered in our ears, "Sit on the chairs, knickers off, and play with yourselves. But do not, repeat not, cum."

We nodded, bent down and slipped our knickers off, and then sat in the arm chairs, facing the boys with our legs open wide. They could see our cunts clearly. Trixie was playing with hers, opening it for them, licking her dildo and sliding it inside. I opened my cunt and slipped a finger inside. Then another. And another. I looked Martin straight in the eye and slowly winked. He gulped and started to stand up.

"Sit down." It was Belinda's voice, quite but firm. He sat down.

"Both of you, get your cocks out. Take your trousers and underpants off. Let's see how hard you both really are.

They couldn't do it fast enough. Martin stood up, Simon pulled his trousers off sitting down.

Belinda sighed. "And your socks."

They both had a lot to learn.

Trixie and I were still fingering our cunts, but we watched as the boys stripped to just their shirts and school ties. Most men do not have monster cocks that will split a girl in two, and Martin and Simon were no exception. Actually, I thought they were well shaped and a perfectly good size. I looked at Martin again and slowly licked my lips. I had three fingers inside me now, and I felt like a cheap, schoolgirl whore. I saw his cock jerking in response and for the first time I felt the power that my sex gave me over someone else. It was wonderful. I could make him cum without even touching him.

Well, I could have done if Belinda hadn't been there.

"You are not to cum till I say so," she told them. Don't wank, just sit and stroke your cocks gently. OK?"

They nodded and did as she said, sitting looking at us both, trying so hard to keep their cocks under control.

"Look at those cocks, girls. Don't they look good?"

"Mmm yes," agreed Trixie.

"Wouldn't you like to suck them?"

"Oh yes, Miss!" That was me.

"I should think so. They're gorgeous cocks, aren't they? Beautiful cocks. You boys can be very proud of your cocks."

They smiled, sheepishly. And then she added:

"Don't just look at your own: look at each others'."

They stopped stroking their own cocks for a moment and looked at each others'. They glanced at each other and gave a brief giggle. But they didn't try to move away.

"They're good, aren't they? Martin, what do you think of Simon's cock?"

"It's all right, I suppose."

"All right? It's gorgeous. It's long and firm and throbbing. Isn't it beautiful? Don't you want to touch it?"

He looked at her in alarm.

"Of course you do. Go on. Touch it. It won't hurt you. Feel how gorgeous it is. Go on - " and once again she said Those Words "- you know you want to."

Martin gulped and stretched out his hand to Simon's cock. Simon took his hand and guided it on.

"That's it. Now, why don't you stroke Simon's cock for him?"

He did. Slowly at first, then faster. Simon was looking at him, breathing more quickly, getting excited.

"That's good," said Belinda: "that's very good. Now, just lean forward and give it a kiss."

I expected him to say something, to protest, but he didn't. He just leant down and kissed Simon's cock. Once. Twice. A third time. Then his tongue came out and he began to give it little licks. Simon was looking down at him, holding Martin's head down. Now Martin was licking all along the cock. He was loving it. Simon was getting excited. He pulled Martin up and made a lunge for his cock, licking it hungrily and then taking it in his mouth. I was so fascinated – so turned on – I stopped playing with my cunt and just watched.

Then Simon sat up, looking Martin in the eyes. Suddenly he grabbed Martin's tie and pulled him against him. Next moment they were kissing. Kissing deeply, holding each other close, their hands clutching their backs. They were kissing passionately now, Simon kissing all over Martin's face, and then French kissing him again. They broke off: they were smiling, as if they were doing something deliciously naughty that no-one knew about. Simon pushed Martin back down to his cock. This time Martin knelt on the floor and parted Simon's knees. Simon was beginning to buck his hips as Martin sucked, then licked, all along, with a sort of flourish of his tongue at the head. Then they were kissing again, falling onto the floor in an embrace, their legs round each other, smiling and laughing like lovers in a daisy field.

"Well, girls," Belinda said, with a note of amusement in her voice, "we'd better see to ourselves."

My memory is a bit hazy about what followed. I remember that Marion came through and that I ran to her and we kissed. Fran looked rather surprised; maybe Belinda had forgotten to tell her. Martin and Simon went into a glorious sixty-nine near the sofa, and the rest of us ended up in a daisy chain. I remember I was licking Marion's cunt, and I'm pretty sure she was licking Fran's (Trixie's? I was past caring now), so I think it must have Belinda licking mine. Yes, I'm sure it was.

And I remember how at one point the three couples were all fucking in three different ways in different parts of the room. We gave Simon and Martin the dildos and lots of lube to use on each other; we didn't think they should go for full anal on their first outing, though to judge from the screams of joy Simon let out as Martin fucked his arse with the dildo, it wouldn't be long till they did. I noticed that Martin knelt up behind Simon and positioned the dildo as if it was his cock. And those two gorgeous boys kept their shirts ties on through the whole thing.

Mind you, so did we. While Martin was fucking – well, dildoing – Simon, Belinda had Trixie on the floor and was fucking her from behind with her strap on. But I reckoned I was the luckiest of all in that room. Marion was fucking me on my back, like a man, with her strap-on – and it was bigger than Belinda's.

Three couples, all fucking, all in school uniform – my dreams don't come much better than this. And we all did cum too – I remember.

And I remember how it ended too.

It was very early the next morning. I had slept with Marion in her bed and I woke up with a start. She was lying next to me, still fast asleep. I looked at the clock: it was 7.00. I stared at the ceiling for a moment, then looked at Marion. I smiled, leaned over, and planted a quiet kiss on her forehead. Then I slipped out of bed. I found my clothes – my ordinary clothes – and put the school uniform into a bag. I looked in on Belinda and Fran – they were sleeping naked in her bed, Fran cuddled up under Belinda's arm. I picked my way through the dildos and glasses and all the rest of the detritus of last night. Simon and Martin were sleeping on a mattress on the floor under a duvet. They were both naked and Martin had his arm over Simon.

I went into the kitchen, took a sheet from a notepad and wrote a short note for Marion. I was going to leave it on the work surface, but then I had a better idea. I found some Blu-Tak and stuck it to the two-way mirror. It seemed appropriate.

I walked through to the door, turned and looked at the room, and silently said my goodbyes. Then I left, closed the door quietly behind me, and went down the stairs and out of the building as quickly as I could. I walked quickly. The only people about were one or two people walking their dogs. I headed to the tube and took the first train, not knowing quite where to get out. In the end I decided on Leicester Square. It was central and would suit what I wanted to do. From there I walked down to Charing Cross and to the Embankment. On the Embankment I reached into my bag, took out my phone and threw it into the river. Now they couldn't phone me. I would need to close my email address somehow. And I would need to go away. Very soon. This had to end, and I was ending it. The note had said "Thank you. It has to be this way. Louise." I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come.

* * *

Time had passed. I needed to make a move or I would be late. Hurriedly, I picked up my bag and headed down the road. Damn Facebook. Why can't it leave the past alone? Why can't I move on? Why did she have to come back? Why would I always give in to her? Why?

Why? Because you're not free of her. And you never will be.

I was in front of her block of flats now. I went up and rang the bell.

I heard movement inside. She was coming to the door. It was her.

"Hi! You found it! Come on in!"

She was in fetish schoolmistress gear. Smart white blouse, under-bra corset over it, pencil skirt, and a little mortar board on top that should have looked silly but didn't.

We weren't in role yet.

"I'll show you round."

It was very smart: a flat like this in this part of London – she must be doing very well for herself.

"Excuse the gear. I've got someone with me."

"Do you want me to go?"

"No, of course not. Don't be silly. I told you I had someone I wanted you to meet. She's just getting changed."

Kitchen. Living room (very spacious). Bedroom (untidy – nothing kinky: sorry).

"And here –" she said, with an air of mystery, as she opened the last door.

At first it seemed a normal room, quite light and airy. But then you notice two school desks and chairs in the middle of the room, and a blackboard on its easel, and a teacher's desk and chair. And the canes. And a tawse. Then, behind me I saw a St Andrew's cross, and a sort of black padded bench, even a rather cramped cage. And very neatly arranged around the room were dildos and spankers and some other implements I didn't recognise and didn't really want to ask about.

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