Anthea Parfitt
by Smotherfan

Part 1

Ms. Hempleman was in her late forties to early fifties. She looked exactly as the head and proprietor of an exclusive girl’s school should look, with greying
hair swept back off her pinched face, Harris tweed jacket and skirt and a good plain blouse beneath.  
I had applied for the post at the Red Sands School for Girls and much to my surprise found myself seated before Ms. Hempleman and a middle aged man I discovered
was Conrad Whyle, chief benefactor to the school.    
Ms. Hempleman cleared her throat daintily. “Tell me Miss Parfitt, why the Hempleman?”  
It was a simple question and one that I had an answer already prepared, much to my surprise and pleasure the answer tripped off my tongue as I’d rehearsed
it. I was well into my explanation.  
“You are only twenty three.” Interrupted Whyle. “That’s only a littler older that the final year.”  
I hesitated. It was another question I had prepared for; still, it was rude to interrupt a candidate.  
“Mr. Whyle’s daughter Miranda is in the final year. She is also our head girl.” Broke in Ms. Hempleman.  
“Quite.” Continued Whyle with a sideward glance towards her. He obviously didn’t like being interrupted. I wondered if Miranda was head girl on merit or
because of daddy’s money. “As I was saying, you are only twenty three, don’t you think that a little bit young for this post. Miranda will be nineteen
before she leave’s the Hempleman. It would make you a little more than four years her senior. Is that a big enough gap to establish a degree of control
and supervision?”  
I gave the answer I had prepared. “I think the small age difference is an advantage. I believe I’ll understand the problems that girls of Miranda age experience.”
I left it there, before I offended Ms Hempleman. As things turned out I couldn’t have been more wrong.  
There was more chat. The truth was I was ideally qualified if inexperienced for the post. It was just going to be a matter of if my face fitted. It did.
After a thirty-minute wait in the staff room I was summoned back into Ms. Hempleman’s inner sanctum. Whyle had left; presumably he found the salary haggling
not to his taste.  
The deal was simple. I would be rather well paid to be the junior housemistress of Nightingale House, which meant sleeping in, looking after the younger
girls and finally sacrificing my Easter break.  
Ms. Hempleman explained. “Most of the girls travel home for Easter and this year Ms. Court is taking all the junior girls on a week long camp. I think
that will only leave Miranda Whyle and Tabatha Brunel out of Nightingale. They are both in the senior dorm, so won’t need any supervision, but we do need
to have an adult in the House. Safety and things like that. As the junior mistress, the task will fall to you.”
It was fine. Red Sands was offering more than double my last interview panel had. If it meant losing out on a few days break then so what! A few terms
at Red Sands and I could choose where I worked and almost when. I was young enough to pass a couple of years in this isolation  
I accepted and five days later joined the small and as I discovered quite elderly staff of Red Sands. Ms. Court was the next youngest mistress and she
was nearly forty.  
As part of my induction I met both the Head Girl and also the Nightingales Senior girl. I knew that Miranda was the Head Girl but was surprised that Tabatha
was the Nightingales Senior girl. As we were all part of the same house we met in my rooms. This was a rather grand description for a bedroom, study cum
lounge and bathroom. A posh bed-sit was a better description. Still it was rent-free, as was the food, which made my salary seem even more attractive.
I was starting to think I’d really landed upon my feet.  
Miranda and Tabatha, by dint of their seniority, no longer wore school uniforms. They both dressed casually in jeans and t-shirts. Miranda was the taller,
a dark haired beauty with lustrous green eyes and a wide mouth. Tabatha was slighter, a blonde with icy blue eyes that seemed to be always staring at you.

Both girls played sport and I was genuinely envious of the hard sheen they had to their bodies.  
We chatted. There was nothing sinister or difficult on the agenda. I wanted to learn about the school and these two seemed as good a starting point as
any of my fellow teachers. They were also much nearer to my own age and I felt, if not kinship, at least common ground with them.  
It soon became obvious that Miranda was the leader and that Tabatha was some kind of follower. Until this meeting I hadn’t linked them together but now
I realised that they were friends, close friends. I wondered how close was close. I’d already realised that in the all girl environment of the school and
in the Houses, a certain sexual atmosphere existed. I just hadn’t expected it to be quite so obvious. Their body language, little sideward glances towards
each other. It all spoke of a deep understanding and intimacy between the two girls. It made me feel uncomfortable. I was no prude and if two women wanted
each other’s company more than a man’s, then that was their business. I just didn’t like it pushed into my face, so to speak.  
“When dad said someone as young as you was favourite for the job no one believed it.” Miranda began. “I mean the rest are all old prunes.” In a sentence
she dismissed the rest of the teaching staff. It was a sentiment I shared but I couldn’t let it pass.  
“I think that’s unfair.” I replied non-committally.  
Miranda pulled a face. “Stop here too long and you’ll be the same.” She continued. “I mean Miss, you are pretty!”  
“Easter!” I wanted to change the subject. As soon as Miranda had started on about my looks both girls had seemed to tense. I felt my cheeks colour. I was
all too aware of the possibility of schoolgirl crushes.  
“Good time!” Smirked Tabatha. “Ms. Hempleman and the rest will be off site. You’ll be able to smuggle a man or two in.”  
More dangerous ground: I could suddenly see what Miranda’s father had been on about. It helped that I was between boyfriends but I still liked to fuck.
It was still hardly a subject I could discuss with Miranda and Tabatha. In another existence they might just have been younger, but still eligible friends.

“I don’t think so.” I said as coolly as I could manage. “I think we should all adhere to a no men rule.”  
“Why is that Miss?” Smiled Miranda. “Are you a lesbian?”  
“Certainly not.” I spluttered, shocked and disgusted at the suggestion.  
“Pity!” Miranda pursed her lips. “We might have had some fun, keep it in the House, so to speak.” She laughed.  
I was blushing and starting to perspire. “I think that’s all. Thank you girls.” I stood up to dismiss them. “Thank you girls.” I repeated.  
“That’s okay Miss. Another time, maybe?” Miranda first and then Tabatha rose to their feet. I was painfully aware that Miranda was both taller and heavier
that I whilst Tabatha was probably the same build and weight as myself. Miranda was so close that we could have touched. “Bye!”  
They left and left me trembling. What had I been offered, lesbian sex with two eighteen year olds? Were they joking? Was this just a wind up, to test out
a new teacher? I hoped and prayed that it was.  
The two weeks to Easter passed. I was witness to the frenzy of girls; the school had over one hundred pupils, being collected by parents, nannies, even
the odd bodyguard. Then Ms. Court took the dozen or so younger girls off to the camp. I discovered only then that apart from myself only Miranda and Tabatha
were still in the school. I admit to suffering a slight qualm at the realisation, not because of the implied lesbian threat, but I had assumed that more
of the one hundred and twenty plus staff and pupils would still be in the school. There was of course the caretaker, but he was left to secure the grounds.

Still I resolved to make the most of the Easter break. It would last for ten days before Ms. Court and her campers returned. It was a chance to relax.
I spent the first day writing letters. Red Sands was set in the wilds, great countryside, but not much happening. It was to far away from my family and
friends for them or myself to visit, so telephone and letters were the only way of communication. Red Sands wasn’t yet computerised, so such obvious things
as the Internet and Email were impossible. I drove into the nearest village, posted my letters and was on the way back when I spotted Miranda and Tabatha.

I slowed down, partly to offer them a lift and also because I had no idea that they weren’t in the school. I wanted to know where they had been. I hadn’t
exactly been watching my charges and seeing them reminded me of my duties. The two girls piled in and I immediately smelt the booze on their breath. It
was only mid afternoon and they were already drinking.  
As if in answer to my unasked question, Miranda laughed softly and said. “You said nothing about drinking, just no booze in school, and we are overage.”

“Very cute!” I answered. I was annoyed that they’d ignored my instructions, but even angry that they had so easily found a way around them.  
“You are Miss, we both think that.” Miranda giggled.  
I should have seen what was coming. I shouldn’t have stopped to give them a lift. After all anything that happened was my word against theirs and I knew
whom Ms Hempleman would believe and it wasn’t me.  
“Don’t be silly.” I tried. If I’d have been fifteen years older then it might have sounded right. As I was more like their elder sister it didn’t sound
right nor did it work.  
“Nothing silly in this.” Murmured Miranda and placed her hand on my knee.  
I nearer crashed the car in shock. I was wearing a loose cotton dress and Miranda pushed her hand further up my thigh. I fought her off. “Don’t be so stupid!”
I snapped. I turned the car into the school drive. For once the sight of the school caretaker was a pleasant one.  
The atmosphere in the car changed from lighthearted banter into something approaching anger. “The next time!” Swore Miranda as she and Tabatha climbed
from the vehicle.  
I resisted any further comments. It wasn’t professional for a teacher and pupil to have a slagging match, no matter what the cause. It did leave the tricky
problem of how to cope with Miranda’s fantasies and I had to assume, Tabatha’s.  As I had no solution I took the cowards option and kept out of their way
over the next couple of days. As a solution it couldn’t last.  
On the third day they found me.  
“There you are!”  
I had been lost in a book and hadn’t heard them approach. Suddenly they were there, either side of me. We were in the school library. The soundproofing
had muffled their approach. Now I was rattled and felt trapped.  
“You’ve been avoiding us!” Miranda said nastily.  
“’Course not!” I protested.  
“’Course you were!” Miranda mimicked. She had her hands on the back of my chair and was rocking it back and forth off its two leading legs.  
“Careful!” I snapped, grabbing for the desk as support. As I reached for the edge Miranda gave one huge tug and I was tipping backwards. I landed with
a crash, banging my head against the carpeted floor. Simply the fact the carpet was so thick probably prevented me from being stunned. I was shocked and
the breath had been knocked out of me.  
I was still recovering my composure when both girls fell upon me. I can’t describe it any other way. One moment I was happily reading and the next I was
struggling beneath the combined weight and strength of two health and angry teenagers.  It wasn’t an even contest. In a matter of seconds I was pinned
beneath the two of them. Miranda was sitting on my stomach, her hands pressing down on mine. Tabatha was sitting across my thighs. I tried to wriggle,
twist, to throw them off me. I couldn’t. An one hundred and ten pound woman can’t dislodge two others.  
“Alright girls, let me up. A joke is joke, but let me up!” I gasped.  
“What joke.” Laughed Miranda. She slid further up my body, until her knee’s pinned my shoulders. She had my hands pinned above my head. Try as I might
I could get no leverage. “You should have accepted our offer, now we’ll have to take what we want.”  
I felt an icy chill run into my stomach. “What do you mean?” I asked.  
“What do you mean?” Mimicked Tabatha. “Tell her, tell the snooty bitch!” She urged Miranda.  
As if in answer Miranda smirked. “We wanted you to join our little game, but you turned us down. You should have yes, now we’ll have to persuade you.”

“What? Just let me up! I won’t say anything. I’ll treat this as a harmless prank.” I struggled again. It was useless. I’d only get up when they let me.
I gave up struggling.  
“Do that again and you’ll get a smack.” Miranda threatened.  
I still didn’t believe her but I had stopped fighting. It was useless. I couldn’t shift the two of them.  
Miranda obviously misinterpreted my actions. I felt her relax. “Better, much better. Now all you have to do is lick our pussies and we’ll call it quits.”

I was speechless. I just stared open mouthed into Miranda’s face. “No way.” I gasped at last. “No chance.”  
The look on Miranda’s face was one of pure delight. She even let out a triumphant whoop. “I knew you’d say that.” Gloated Miranda. “It just means we’ll
have even more fun before you eat my cunt.”  
“No way!” I repeated.  
Miranda wasn’t listening. She inched a little further forwards, resting her arse upon my chest, her knees were level with my head, and her thighs tunnelled
my vision towards her crotch. Miranda was wearing a short skirt and I had a perfect view of her pants.  
“Yes you will.” Miranda retorted. “When we have finished with you, you’ll think that licking our cunts is a pleasure and you’ll be doing anything and everything
we say.” She sounded so confident. It was chilling.  
“No!” I whispered. I was now very frightened. I realised that I was alone in the House with two nasty, dominant girls. There was no one to overhear us,
no one to rescue me. They had days and days to break me.  
“First I’ll sit on your face. I’ll keep doing it until you pass out or until you agree. If you pass out then we’ll start again, and again, and again. It
won’t matter how often you faint. I won’t get tired of this game, but you will.” Miranda announced. “I get a real charge out of this. I really want to
you to fight me, it makes the moment when you give in all the sweeter.”  
“No!” I pleaded. “Just let me get up, please!” I was almost begging. I was starting to panic. The threats sounded so real. I didn’t doubt for one minute
that Miranda meant them.  
“No chance. If we like you, then we’ll make you into the head girl’s slave, that’s quite an honour. It usually goes to one of the girls, but I think you’ll
be perfect, and I have never fucked a teacher.” She slid across my face, her crotch hovering a bare inch from my mouth. I could smell her very clear arousal.
She was getting off on what she was doing.  
“Plea….” I began but Miranda stuffed out my pleadings. She sank down onto my face, covering my mouth and nose with her crotch. I tried to breath but could
only draw in the faintest gasp of air, saturated in the heavy, stinky smell of her sex.  
“Well?” She demanded. I could just see her cold, cruel smile and those unblinking deep green eyes. “No?” I couldn’t reply. I was trapped beneath her and
Tabatha, my mouth gagged by the most disgusting gag in history. Slowly she began to rub herself across my face, grinding her crotch down hard against me.
It made breathing impossible and struggle, as much as I did, I was truly helpless. I could only lie there, sucking in the penny packets of air that Miranda’s
movements accidentally allowed me.  
Miranda really began to rub her mound in my face as she settled into a smooth rhythm, using my nose to get to herself off. It was like she had no thought
for my safety as she sat there atop me, using me. Soon I could feel her wetness soaking through the crotch of her pants. I’d have gagged if she had given
me the chance.  
"Take a breath, that's all you'll get." She told me, lifting her up for the briefest moment, I gasped in the almost fresh air, almost grateful to her,
before she sat back down on my face.  
She continued like that for a while, masturbating on my face until I almost passed out, and then letting me catch a breath before continuing. I was getting
weaker and weaker from the lack of oxygen as she all the while kept rubbing herself into my face.  
I was almost asphyxiated, each breath was shorter, the time between each breath grew longer, and finally I felt my consciousness begin to slip away. Once,
just once, Miranda pulled me back from the brink of unconsciousness. “We’ll play this game again.” She whispered and then sank down onto my abused face,
staying there until my consciousness finally did flee.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
I don’t know to this day how long I was unconscious. When I did finally recover I was no longer in the library. I was in a bedroom; least ways I thought
it was a bedroom. I was lying on the floor, a thin carpet little protection from the hard wooden floor which lay beneath me. I tried to rise but I felt
so weak that I could barely raise my head, then I realised that my hands were tied. Wearily I raised my arms to study the strong, seemingly unbreakable
knot. I needed to rise, as I moved my feet I realised that they to were bound. I struggled to raise myself and it was only then that I realised that not
only was I bound but also naked. I groaned softly and sank back onto the floor. I needed to think, but first I needed to recover my senses and strength
before Miranda and Tabatha returned.  
I never had the chance. Almost immediately the door swung open and my twin tormentors appeared. Instinctively I tried to wriggle away from them though
in truth I had nowhere to go and no chance of escaping them.  
Tabatha caught me, pushing my shoulders back against the carpet and straddling me just as Miranda had done. She wasted no time in sinking her knickered
crotch onto my face. She said nothing, simply drove herself mound hard into my face, smearing herself across me, relentlessly and mercilessly riding my
helpless features as she sought her personal climax. I could do nothing to prevent Tabatha using me as a living dildo.  
Tabatha came. I felt her climax. I felt the tightening of her limbs, and then the final uncoordinated jerks as her climax deprived her of self-control.
I felt her climax juices soaking through her already damp crotch. She collapsed without ever freeing my from my stinking, heavy, air denying imprisonment.
I was close to suffocation before she rolled away, leaving me gasping for air.  
Miranda was sitting on the bed. I didn’t notice her at first. I was just glad that I no longer had Tabatha’s sweaty crotch across my face. I pulled in
a great lungful of air.  
“Ready yet?” Miranda slid of the bed and stood over me. I cringed. I could guess what was coming. I couldn’t answer. I desperately didn’t want her across
my face, the lack of air, the almost certainty that she would bring herself off on me. I didn’t want any of that but the prospect of even kissing another
woman’s sex almost made me vomit. “I thought not.” She dropped to her knee’s, stroking my short damp hair. She was kneeling behind me and I had to twist
to look her in the face. “It’s only a matter of time. So why not get it over with. The first time is always the worst. After a few time’s you’ll think
that sucking my twat is the natural order.” She moved forwards. I stared up into her damp, stained crotch. “People say that my ass is my best feature.”
Miranda laughed. She sat down hard, engulfing my mouth and nose, the latter was rammed up her arse, and only her knickers prevented it touching her anus.

She started to ride me, slowly, always knowing how long she could keep me without air. Then just when I thought I’d pass out again she’d stop, allow me
a mouthful of air. It was a torture, a slow, deliberate torture designed to drive me to the edge of desperation, designed to break my will.  
As she rode and tortured me I realised that she was frigging herself. I just wanted her to come; I desperately wanted her to climax. It was the only escape
route I had. I prayed as much as my mangled senses would allow. I wanted this all to finish, for me to wake up in my clean solitary bed and find that this
was just a strange, perverted nightmare. The alternative was to chilling to contemplate.  
Miranda came, just like Tabatha had before her, Miranda ground her sex soaked crotch, driving the last breath from my tortured lungs. She didn’t release
me. I saw stars again and once more I slipped into unconsciousness beneath Miranda totally merciless arse.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
When I came to it was as if nothing had ever happened. I was sitting at my table in the library. I was dressed, the room was tidy and there was no sign
of either Miranda or Tabatha. At first I thought that I must have fallen asleep, but I ached both in my body and head. I felt sick, not nauseous, but sick
with embarrassment. I felt weak; I knew that I was weak. I remembered in brief flashbacks what had happened. The chair, the, the face sitting? Where had
I heard that? Had I really been naked in a girl’s bedroom, had they really used me like some lump of meat? I found myself rubbing my wrists; the mark of
the bonds was still there, an angry, red ring that no amount of rubbing could remove. It had seemed so real!  
I was just ready to convince myself that it really was a dream when the door to the library swung open and my two tormentors marched in. I was still as
weak as the proverbial kitten and could never have outrun them.  
“I thought we’d start again.” Miranda began. She stopped a metre from me, her hands resting on her hips. Miranda looked superb, confident and utterly,
utterly in control. Tabatha stood a little ways off, a smirking grin across her features. She was here to watch. “Get down on your knee’s.” Miranda pointed
to a spot at her feet.  
I felt my mouth dry and my stomach churn. I knew now what she was doing. She had brought me back here, to the library, where it had all started. It was
all mind games. If I didn’t obey then it would all start again. Slowly I got to my feet, my legs were trembling, both with fear and the oxygen deprivation
that they had taken me through. They both watched me, waiting to see which way I jumped. Would I continue to resist, even if the outcome was inevitable?
It was simply a case of how much more torture I could take. I sank to my knee’s, head bowed, not just in submission but because I couldn’t look Miranda
in the face.  
“Look at me!” She insisted. I tried. I really tried but I wasn’t fast enough. “Get her down.” Miranda ordered Tabatha. Before I could react I was being
pulled backwards and Tabatha was already astride my face. I just had time for one last gasp of air before her arse descended onto my face. This time Tabatha
made no attempt to bring herself off, her mission was a simple one. She would ground her arse and cunt into my face until I submitted or passed out. “You
really are a stupid cunt.” Gloated Miranda. “I have dreamed of fucking your face and now I have, next you’re going to suck on my cunt, so why fight me.
Just give in. it’s that easy.” She was kneeling besides me. I couldn’t turn my head, imprisoned as it was between Tabatha’s legs and pinned beneath her
arse. I swivelled my eyes to look into Miranda cool, smug face. She was so sure of her, so sure of the eventual outcome. Miranda took my hand. I was a
weak as a baby. “When you want to suck our cunts just squeeze my hand.”  
I felt Tabatha shift her position. She moved just enough to allow me to snatch a mouthful of air. Then she farted, loudly and then sat back down on me.
She farted again. This time I felt as well as smelt the fart. I didn’t have the strength to even offer a token of resistance. I lay there, my nose buried
up Tabatha stinking backside whilst Miranda whooped and yelled her satisfaction.  
“Deep breaths teach.” Miranda laughed. “Way to go Tab’s.” She laughed. “Do her again!”  
She did. I couldn’t take any more. I squeezed Miranda’s hand. Nothing happened. I was still pinned beneath Tabatha’s utterly merciless behind. All I could
smell was her, all I could see her bum cheeks and the back. I squeezed Miranda’s hand again and again.  
“Get off her.” Miranda ordered. The triumph in her voice was all too apparent.  
Tabatha didn’t argue and I was simply grateful for the relief. I drew in one great lungful after another. I was too weakened to move and they knew it.
As Tabatha rolled me Miranda calmly replaced her. It was like one of those crazy American wrestling matches when two fighters take it in turn beating up
on another. This time she was facing me and I found my face rammed up against her crotch. I could smell her, strong, aroused scents that dominated my senses.

“You will do everything that I say.” She began. “First of all you will address me as Mistress and only when I ask you a direct question. Is that understood?”

“Yes … Mistress.” I mumbled. It was such a humiliating thing to say.  
“Say it again.” Miranda gloated. “This time, try and make it a complete sentence.”  
“Yes Mistress.” I repeated.  
“Better, but this time loud enough for Tabatha to hear.”  
I cleared my throat. It was dry and felt constricted. “Yes Mistress.” I said, as loudly as I could manage.  
Miranda laughed. It was an evil, self-centred laugh of triumph. “That is better. I always knew you’d make a good slave. It’s just a matter of understanding
that I am your better; you’re superior.” She pushed forwards so that she was sitting across my mouth with my nose pressed against her mound. “Sniff. I
want to hear you sniffing my cunt.”  
I did so I felt that I had no choice. It was easier to give in than to fight. It was humiliating but it couldn’t last. Soon I would be free and then I
could flea this rat hole and its strange, kinky women. I sniffed her, drinking in her musky, hot stink, the stench of her cunt.  
“Well done!! You learn quickly.” She turned to Tabatha. “Get the gear. Our little slave is ready for her next lesson.”  
Tabatha bound my wrists whilst Miranda sat across my face, then Miranda rolled off me. It still felt as if she was still sitting on me. I just lay there,
waiting for my orders. Tabatha threw a two-inch wide belt to me. “Put that around your neck.” She commanded. I just looked at it before the truth hit me.
It was a collar. Dumbly I did as I was told. “Good girl.” Tabatha laughed. “Now stand up.”  
I had difficulty doing that. I found that my legs were as weak as a baby. I struggle to me feet. They made no efforts to help: simply standing by and watching
my struggles. When I eventually succeeded Tabatha clipped a long lead to the collar. She led me through the school with Miranda in the rear. They led me
onto the main school courtyard. It was empty of course. Nevertheless it was still scary being bound and lead outside the secure confides of the library.
They stopped me in the centre of the yard. Miranda unfastened my wrists although Tabatha get her grip on the lead.  
“You’re overdressed.” Miranda announced. “Take your clothes off!”  
I gaped. It was the wrong move. Miranda slapped me hard, on the cheek. I cried out and reached out to protect myself. Tabatha tugged on the lead, the collar
bit into my throat. I was thrown backwards and could do nothing to protect myself from the barrage of blows, which Miranda rained down on me. Eventually
I sank to my knee’s pleading for her to stop.  
“You know what to do.” Gasped Miranda. “Just get on with it.”  
So I undressed in the school courtyard, every thread of clothing, until I was naked before them. I felt utterly humiliated. They were piling humiliation
upon humiliation.  
“Stand up.” Miranda ordered.  
I did so, painfully aware of how absurd this all was. I could feel my face tingling from her blows but didn’t dare reach up and touch the sore spots.  

“This way!” Tabatha tugged on my lease. I stumbled as I followed her, drawing a kick from Miranda into my ribs. “Move cunt!” Snarled Tabatha. I did so,
as quickly as I could manage.  
They left me tied to the schools flag pole, in the middle of the court yard, the belt wrapped around the pole so tight that I could hardly breath, they
bound my hands and ankles just as tight. I was truly helpless. I couldn’t even turn my head.  
“We’ll be back.” Whispered Miranda. She was stroking my naked body, breasts, neck, and belly, even as far as my pubic hair. “Enjoying that, like me touching
your nipples?” She pinched the nipples. I moaned softly. She pinched them again, this time harder and longer, until I cried out for her to stop. She didn’t.
“What’s the word cunt?”  
“Mistress.” I gasped. “Stop, please, Mistress.” The pain lessened. I thought my nipples had been torn from my tits. I thought that she’d torn them from
my tits.  
“We’ll be back. Just be ready to please us.” Miranda hissed into my ear. She gave my nipples a final twist, which drew tears from my eyes.  
They left me. I had no idea for how long, time was meaningless. I realised that I didn’t know how long I’d been out there. I could only guess from the
height of the sun that it was late afternoon. It wasn’t exactly hot and gradually I started to shiver, the sun sunk lower and lost even more of its heat.
I was becoming genuinely cold and lethargy and tiredness swept over me. Ridiculous as it sounds I started to doze, my body shivering beyond my control.
Finally it started to rain, not hard, but persistently, soaking my already cold body. I began to cry, both out of pity for myself and for the fear of what
was to come. Miranda was right. I was ready to do anything to cease this torture, and still they didn’t come to my rescue.  
The rain ceased, the sun dropped below my horizon and all warmth left the air. I was genuinely cold. I just shivered and shivered, praying now for their
reappearance.  
“Ready to lick my cunt?”  
I hadn’t heard Miranda approach. I looked up through my sodden hair. I shivered as I spoke, my voice breaking up with the cold. “Yes Mistress.” I managed
to whisper.  
Tabatha was nowhere to be seen. Miranda untied me and finally released the belt. I sank to knees; all the strength had left me. Miranda left me to recover.
“My room, don’t bother to dress.” She began walking away from me. I found that I couldn’t get to my feet; the cold had swept away the last of my strength.
“Crawl!” Miranda ordered.  
I did so. On my hands and knee’s I crawled slowly across the courtyard, over the damp grass and into the warm dry confines of Nightingale House. Miranda
had returned and clipped the lead back onto my collar. She led me like a dog. The symbolism obvious even to myself in my desperate befuddled condition.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….  
Inside her rooms it felt deliciously warm and dry. I wanted to curl up like the simple animal I was, just dry out and feel the heat soak back into my body.
Tabatha wasn’t anywhere to be seen but I was beaten and no threat to Miranda. She could do what she wanted and when. I would do nothing to resist her.

Miranda left me to recover. I was no used to her in my present condition. I hear pop music but couldn’t focus on the sound. I lay on the floor and shivered,
slowly feeling the warmth creep back into my limbs. I wasn’t bound or even restrained. I was too weak to go anywhere. I lay in a huddle, my senses to weak.
I heard the door open and slowly I turned towards the sound. Miranda was standing there, her arms on her hips. She was naked. I stared. She looked magnificent,
toned, trim, firm breasted and totally, totally confident.  
“On your back.” She ordered. She crossed towards me, standing over my naked body. I obeyed. She was my mistress and I had to do what she ordered. “Good
cunt.” Miranda sat on my chest. I could feel how warm she was compared with me. I could also feel how damp her cunt already was. “Want are you going to
do?” She asked.  
“What ever you want Mistress.” I was beat. I knew it. Miranda knew it. I hadn’t the strength to fight any longer.  
“Link my cunt.” She slid across my face. I stared up at the pink slash of her sex. I opened my mouth and dipped my tongue into her oily, drippy hole. It
felt and tasted disgusting but I knew that I had no choice. I had to please her. Miranda told me what to do, what pleased her, where she wanted my tongue.
Like the slave that I was I followed her every instruction. She came. I was almost pleased as Miranda sat down on my face as her climax swept through her,
splattering across my face. She held me there, trapped between her legs, beneath her arse and cunt, whilst she recovered her breath. “Again.” She commanded
and I obeyed. This time Miranda hardly told me what to do. I licked, slurped and teased her clitoris, her cunt, drinking in her juices. This time when
she came Miranda made no attempt not to suffocate me. She mashed down on me, intent only in her own pleasure. I was practically out before Miranda eventually
dismounted. She left me gasping on the floor, my body wracked with the pain that comes from suffocation. “I won’t be back before morning. I have a date,
that’s something you’ll never experience again. If Tabatha visits, you are to treat her as your Mistress. Understand, cunt!”  
“Yes Mistress.” I gasped.  
“Good. You will stay in my rooms until I return.”  
I watched her dress. Miranda acted as if I wasn’t even in the room and I started to realise that in her world I was little more than an object, little
more that the table she ate her meals off, or the chair she sat upon. Only when she was about to leave did she look in my direction. “Clean yourself up.”

“Yes Mistress.” I got to my feet and hurried to obey, heading into Miranda’s small bathroom to wash my face.  
In the time that took Miranda had left and Tabatha was sitting crossed legged upon Miranda’s bed. She must have been waiting outside the rooms. I was immediately
nervous. I had no idea as to the etiquette that existed between a Mistress and a slave.  
“You have a problem?” Tabatha asked.  
“What can I do for you Mistress?” I managed to stammer.  
“Please me.” Tabatha answered.  
“How Mistress?” I asked as meekly as I could muster.  
“Better, get on your knee’s.” Tabatha pointed to a spot immediately before her. I dropped to my knees. “Crawl.” She commanded. I did so. Tabatha slid to
the edge of the bed and I found myself crawling up an artificial valley made of her stockinged legs. “Now show me what you have learnt!” Tabatha opened
her legs wider and I stared into the pink slash of her sex. “Get on with it.” She demanded and pulled my face into her cunt.  
It was only the beginning. Tabatha seemed determined to test my strength and resilience, before she had even climaxed I was pinned beneath her, struggling
for breath whilst trying desperately to please her. I lost track of the times I made her come. She seemed utterly inexhaustible and utterly insatiable.
I licked and sucked and swallowed, hoping that each climax I induced might finally be the last.  
She farted and I was made to sniff at her gas, which seemed to amuse her. She laughed as I held my face into her ass as she farted. At last she mashed
down hard onto my face, trapping me and depriving me off air. I knew what was coming and I tried not to fight, but being suffocated is a very scary event.
I drifted into an unconsciousness that was almost a relief.
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
When I came to Miranda had returned. She was talking quietly to Tabatha and at first they didn’t notice me but then Tabatha gestured in my direction. Miranda
turned and almost smiled, but there was no warmth. “Sleep well cunt?”  
“Yes Mistress.” It was hardly sleep but I felt a little better, stiff and bursting for the toilet. “Please.” I whispered. “I need the bathroom.”  
I swear that Miranda smiled. “Five minutes, and clean yourself up. You look like shit.”  
I scrambled to obey, partly to relieve myself but also out of the fear that Miranda might change her mind. I was out of the bathroom in less than three
minutes. I counted each and every second.  
“Now get down on your knee’s.” Miranda commanded.  
I did as I was told.  
“Tabatha tells me how hard you worked to please her. Very good, I expect my slaves to be obedient and hard working. I have something’s to explain to you.
They really are quite simple, even for someone as thick and stupid as you.” She stopped.  
“Yes Mistress.” I answered.  
“Good. Understand this. No, first, get on your back!” Miranda stood up as I scrambled to obey. I lay down as Miranda once again straddled my face. She
was still wearing the black panties she’d worn the previous night, so I knew that I wasn’t expected to tongue fuck her. I guessed what she was about to
do a few second before she did it. Miranda farted into my face, a long, belching, stinking fart that seemed to last for ever. I heard Tabatha scream with
laughter. “Deep breaths cunt.” Miranda ordered and I did as I was told. Miranda stared down into my face. “As I was saying, before I was interrupted, you
will be my slave from now until I leave. You will obey my every command, pander to my every desire. Is that understood?”  
“Yes Mistress.” I answered submissively.  
“You have become the head girls personal slave, that is an honour. If you please me then I’ll pass you onto the next head girl when I leave. Just so you
know, that’s to be Tabatha.”  
She farted again and this time without bidding I began to sniff her stink.  
“Very good. I always thought you would be a fast learner.” She smiled down at me. “Still you still have plenty to learn.” She stood up and stepped out
of her panties. “First lesson is how to clean your Mistresses cunt.” She sat back on my chest and then slid forwards. “I spent the night being royally
shagged, my cunt still carries the evidence. Your job is to lick the cum, his and mine, from my fanny.” She slid her cunt over my face and I began to suck
and lick her. “Yes!” she breathed. ”You do learn quickly.”  
By the time that the school reopened I was utterly, utterly, utterly under Miranda’s dominance. She had used me, as her personal slave, even down to the
bathroom. I had lost track of the number of time’s either she or Tabatha had straddled my face. Miranda was right. It seemed that the natural state of
affairs was for me to be licking her pussy.  

Part 2

It was the last full day of term. I already had my instructions from Tabatha for the summer. I was allowed one week with my family before I reported to
her at her families’ holiday cottage. I was supposed to be teaching Tabatha the final stages of her maths course, but that was just the excuse. I also
knew that before school finished I would be handed over to the new head girl. Just like Miranda had handed me onto Tabatha so Tabatha would hand me onto
my next mistress.  
On that last day Abigail found me with a message. “The senior girls want you in their common room.” It wasn’t a request and Abigail didn’t deliver it as
one. I wondered how much she already knew about my position. Abigail was Miranda’s younger sister. In a years time she would be in the senior year and
I guessed would also be the head girl. So in a year’s time I would be serving her. It made no sense to be difficult. She would have the opportunity to
extract her revenge.  
I found my Mistress with Rebecca, Tabatha’s deputy. Tabatha had lent me to Rebecca time and again. It was one of the differences between Miranda and Tabatha.
Whilst Miranda had only loaned me to Tabatha, so Tabatha had loaned me out to a half dozen other girls.  
There were three other girls, all for the year below Tabatha. I guessed that one of these must he the Head Girl designate. Rona, a slightly built red head:
Fiona, another blonde and Helen, an Asian girl whose parents had fled Hong Kong when the Chinese had taken over.  
“You took your time.” Tabatha snapped.  
“I came as soon as I could.” I flustered. I was surprised at Tabatha’s tone. It was her Mistress voice, yet there were strangers here.  
“What am I? "She demanded.  
“The Head Girl.” I answered, trying to stick to the official roles that we both performed.  
“What else, SLUT!” Tabatha demanded.  
I honestly panicked. I knew where this was leading. It brought me out in a cold sweat. “Please!” I whispered in desperation. I glanced towards the couch
where the other girls were sitting.  
Tabatha got to her feet. At the same time I saw that Rebecca was circling behind me. I heard the key click in the lock and then felt her take my arms and
pull them behind my back.  
Tabatha came and stood before me, slowly she began to unbutton my blouse. I tried to resist but Rebecca had hold of my wrists. In truth she didn’t need
any great strength. I was to conditioned to offer any real resistance. She was so close that I could smell the booze on her breath.  
There was a hush in the room. The other girls, those not in on my slavery, sat in wrapped amazement as Tabatha with Rebecca’s assistance stripped me down
to my pants.  
“Now! Get down on your knees.” Tabatha commanded and I silently obeyed. “Better, look at me.” Tabatha demanded.  
I stared up into the merciless face of my mistress.  
“What am I?” she demanded to know.  
“You’re my Mistress.” I said as clearly as I could muster. I was barely conscious of the silence, which had fallen across the room. I tried to focus my
attention upon Tabatha, she was my Mistress and I knew that a happy Mistress was far, far better than an angry one.  
“So what are you?”  
“A cunt licker.” I answered. I blushed furiously, not through what I had said. Tabatha had forced me to say or do much worst, but I was saying it in company.
I heard a soft laugh coming from the direction of the other girls. I didn’t dare look. I had my orders and I knew the consequences of disobeying them.

Tabatha lifted her short skirt and pulled down her panties to her knees. “Take them off! She demanded and I hurried to obey. “Now sniff them!” she ordered.

It was the familiar routine. Tabatha liked me to sniff at her knickers. I think that she enjoyed the sight of me with my nose buried in her panties.  

“What do they smell off?" She demanded to know.  
“You Mistress, they smell of you.” I answered, pulling in another sniff.  
“Do you like that smell?” She asked.  
“Yes Mistress.” It wasn’t quite a lie. I had become immune to the smell and taste of another woman. Miranda had been right when she had said that licking
her cunt would seem to be the natural state of things. I had transferred that to Tabatha and now I realised I was about to transfer to another Mistress.
I just didn’t know which one.  
“Come here.” She had her skirt raised and her clean pink sex glistened in my direction. I crawled over and placed my lips softly against her cunt. I could
smell and taste her, that familiar smell and taste of my mistress. I looked up into her face, seeing that smirking, smile of triumph, knowing deep down
how I was humiliating myself and not being able to help myself. Tabatha glanced across towards her audience. “I told you so.” She laughed triumphantly.
“You want to suck my cunt, don’t you?” She asked me.  
“Yes Mistress.” I mumbled against the warm, spiky flesh of her sex.  
“Good.” She left me and sat down amongst her audience. She opened her legs wide and gestured. I knew my place, on my hands and knee’s I crawled between
her legs and sank my mouth and tongue into the slinky folds of her cunt. I felt her relax. It was a good sign. I didn’t think about the girls surrounding
us. I started to tongue fuck her, willing her to a climax.  
Afterwards Tabatha left me naked on the carpet whilst she dressed again. I had made her climax. I had done that a thousand times, so often that I knew
how to bring her off. I knew if she wanted a fast fuck or a slow one. Tabatha was disdainful. “Why don’t you sample her talents? She likes an arse in her
face – don’t you cunt licker?”  
“Yes Mistress.” I could still feel the remains of Tabatha’s climax drying onto my face. I knew what was coming. Tabatha stood up and gestured to me. Slowly
I lay back, raising my hands above my head whilst Tabatha turned towards my feet as she straddled me. I stared up her skirt and she lowered herself onto
my face. I had time for one last deep breath before Tabatha blocked both my mouth and nose with her arse and cunt.  
Tabatha mashed down hard, oblivious of my need for air. She kept me like that, pinned beneath her until I started to fight for breath. She moved enough
for me to gasp a lungful of air before sinking back onto me.  
“Won’t she suffocate?” Someone asked.  
“If I sat here long enough, yes.” I heard Tabatha answer. “We take her under sometimes.”  
“What’s under?” Another of the audience asked.  
“We suffocate her until she passes out.” She sounded so sure and confident of herself, but then she had cause to be. I had been her property for a whole
year. It was coming to an end but I was so conditioned that she could take me again and again and I would be unable to resist.  
“What else?” The fascination the questioners voice was obvious.  
“What else?” Tabatha raised herself off me just long enough for me to snatch another lungful of air. “Well, she sucks cunt. She’ll tongue your arse if
you want: tit sucking and licking: what ever turns you on. Tell her and she’ll do It.” Idly Tabatha glanced back at me. “She really is very obedient.”
She sat down again. “You mustn’t think of her as a person, she is just like furniture, treat her like a chair that can bring you off. If you need to fart.”
She paused long enough to fart. “Just fart. You could piss in her mouth if you wanted to.” She sat back down so that I got the fully benefit if her stinky
little fart.  
“She doesn’t mind!” Exclaimed someone.  
“She has no choice in the matter.” Tabatha answered disdainfully. “She is the head girls personal cunt sucker, that’s how it is.”  
Tabatha wriggled across my face, farting noisily as she did. She seemed to be able to fart at will. I didn’t care anymore. It was just part of her domination
of me. “Now who is first? Knickers on or off. I suggest you keep them on till you get used to the sensation. The first time her nose is up your arse can
feel strange.” Tabatha got to her feet. “Well?”  
I couldn’t help but look towards my audience. They were all uncertain.  
“What about you Rona?” Tabatha asked.  
“Later. I want to see someone else do it first?” Rona replied.  
“What about you then?” Tabatha turned towards Fiona.  
Fiona shook her head. “I think that I’ll just watch.”  
I entertained the brief hope that they would all refuse and that I might escape with the humiliation I had already suffered, but without suffering any
further indignation.  
Helen stood up, there was an evil, satisfied look on her face and I knew that I had been wrong to hope for any escape or relief. “I’ll go first.” She announced.

She came and straddled me. I tried not to look into her face but she made me. As she pinned my head between her thin thighs she demanded that I look at
her. I was to conditioned not to obey.   
Helen had a long, sallow face, high cheekbones and dark, dark eyes.  
“I am next years Head Girl.” She smirked. “Do you know what that means?”  
“Yes…Mistress.” I answered.  
“Are you going to lick my cunt?” she asked.  
“Yes Mistress.” I answered, not thinking for once that Helen wasn’t my Mistress.  
Helen turned towards Tabatha. “I’d like to take her somewhere private. I don’t want our first meeting to be so public.”  
“Use her room.” Tabatha suggested. She was obviously disappointed that she wasn’t going to witness my initiation.  
“I’ll call you in later.” Helen answered.  
“Do that.” Tabatha answered with obvious bad grace.  
Deprived of their entertainment the other’s quickly left before Helen let me up.  
“Get dressed.” She ordered. “I have no desire to see you puny English tits.” She stood up. “Quickly now.” She demanded.  
……………………………………………………………………………..  
“I have never had a slave before.” Helen was lounging on my bed. She had made no effort to christen my face and tongue. “But in HK we did have servants,
and they would do anything to please me. I mean anything.” She smiled and I shivered. Helen was going to be as merciless and dominating as Tabatha.  
I was kneeling on the floor, at the bottom of the bed, looking at my new Mistress. I wasn’t required to speak. I knew all to well that the role of a slave
didn’t include holding a conversation with your Mistress. You just did as you were told.  
Helen swung her legs off the bed and slowly stood up. She was a short and slight girl; a good fifteen pounds lighter than either of my previous Mistresses.

“In HK we had a wonderful lifestyle.” Helen began. “Houses, boats, car’s, willing servants. The family was something. We were important. Then the British
handed HK over to the Chinese. Oh! My father saw what was coming and we’d shipped most of our money out to Australia and then we relocated. We had cash
and no government likes to reject really wealthy immigrants. We just have no status. They see us as rich but not important!” She sounded angry. “If the
British had stood by us, then even now we’d be in HK, but they didn’t. I couldn’t stop in a school I’d attended since I was five. I lost all my friends
and then I found myself here. In a school filled by shitty English girls and taught by shitty English teachers.” She came and stood besides me. “Get on
the bed.” She suddenly commanded me. I scrambled to obey. “I thought it would be hell, but now I’ll have my very own little shitty English slave.” She
grinned. “Won’t I?”  
“Yes Mistress.” I answered, my throat suddenly dry and constricted.  
“What are you? I want to hear it from your own pathetic little mouth.” She had sat on my chest by now.  
“A shitty English cunt licker.” I answered.  
“Very good. Now what did Tabatha say. You’ll do anything I ask?”  
“Yes Mistress.”  
“Wipe my arse?”  
“Yes Mistress.”  
“See to my periods?”  
“Yes Mistress.”  
Helen broke out into a smile. “I begin to see how well you have been trained.” She slid forwards until my chin was below the hem of her skirt. “The Chinese
are superior to the English. I am superior to you. Say it!”  
“The Chinese are superior to the English. You are my superior in every way.” I almost chanted it. Miranda and Tabatha had made me say similar things. It
meant nothing. I was so broken and trained that Helen didn’t need to reinforce her superiority. I accepted it as an absolute.  
Helen hauled her skirt up to her waist and then moved forwards across my face. I stared up into the stained and obviously damp crotch to her white panties.
I could smell her. She had a heavy scent when aroused, heavier than either Miranda or Tabatha.  
I knew what was coming, with Tabatha; she had been too experienced to waste time wearing her pants when she smothered me. Helen wasn’t so sure of herself,
so she’d start off by wearing her pants. It meant that the moment when I tasted her was delayed and also that I would be smothered for longer and more
completely.  
It is impossible to describe the horror of being smothered. No matter how often you have been smothered there comes that moment in each smothering when
panic sets in. I knew Tabatha and almost trusted her, but Helen was someone new. I had no idea what to expect, even if she would understand just how long
I could go without air.  
I was about to find out. Helen sat down on my face. I could still see her face, our eyes met. If I could have pleaded with my eyes I would have done so.
It would have made no difference. Helen settled. I felt her weight shift as she spread herself across my mouth and nose.  
“I dreamt of this moment!” She laughed, wriggling further down my face. “I have dreamt of having a shitty English face up my ass. Oh! I cannot tell you
how much it hurt to know what Tabatha was doing to you. I wanted it to be me. This afternoon when she farted into your face, that should have been my fart
you sniffed, it should have been my cunt you licked out. I couldn’t wait, and now I don’t have to.” She was sliding across my face, just hard enough to
enjoy it, leaving me to snatch hurried breaths as her arse and crotch left my face.  
I lay there, the complaint slave whilst Helen slowly, ever so slowly, brought herself top a climax. Again she didn’t have Tabatha’s skill but that would
come. She would learn how to use me to please her. It was simply time and practise that she needed, and I knew that she had plenty of the former and a
determination towards the latter.  
When she eventually came it was almost a contradiction. I was used to Tabatha’s powerful climaxes. Helen’s were gentle in comparison. I barely knew she’d
come until she collapsed against me and ever so slowly her come juices began seeping through her crotch.  
“That was nice.” Helen purred. “Not good but nice.” She slid back off my face. “Well shitty! Are you ready to please me?” She gasped.  
“Yes Mistress.” I answered. I could still smell her; still feel the weight of her buttocks across my face.  
“Later.” Helen climbed off me. She strutted around my room after ordering me to remain as I was. She explored my wardrobe, throwing my underwear onto the
floor. “Take your pants off.” She demanded, pointing at me.  
I did so.  
“Open your legs, wide.”  
I did so. I felt no embarrassment. After what I had endured over the past two years there was no place for embarrassment.  
Helen came and sat between my open legs. Miranda had made me shave and I had kept up the habit. So my cunt was pink and all flesh with only the briefest
of pubic stubble. Helen touched me. I almost went into orbit; it had been so long since anyone had touched me. I hadn’t been held, kissed, loved in what
seemed a lifetime.  
“Was that nice, shitty cunt?” She smirked. It was already apparent that Helen would not be a kind Mistress.  
“Yes Mistress.” I gasped, trying to recover my breath.  
Helen started to finger fuck me. It had been so long. I flooded across her fingers. She had my arse bouncing against the carpet and then just when I was
about to climax … she stopped.  
“Enjoy that?” She gloated. She didn’t wait to answer. She stoked my cunt lips, drawing more of my juice from me. “When did you last get shagged, shitty?
When did you have a nice hard cock inside you?”  
“I can’t remember, Mistress.” I answered truthfully. I hadn’t been with a man since I’d started at the school. Miranda and Tabatha had placed restrictions
on me as they had asserted their total dominance of my life. I had not been allowed to finger myself or use anything that might have relieved my sexual
frustration. It had hurt all the more to realise that as I made one of them come that I was denied that simple pleasure for myself.  
She stopped just as my climax was building. She left my hips jerking, seeking the solace of her stiff, thin fingers.  
“Control yourself.” She snapped and I did my best. It wasn’t easy. I was remembering the hot stabbing surges of pleasure, sensations that I had more or
less forgotten.  
Helen continued to prowl my meagre rooms, investigating my life. I had never been one for strong friendships or family ties and the past year had weakened
those that did exist to almost breaking point. Still she read my letters and I did nothing to stop her.  
“Who is Catherine?” she asked.  
“Mistress, Catherine is my elder sister.” I answered. I hadn’t seen Cat for over two years.  
“She says you should visit more often. What do you tell her?”  
“Nothing Mistress.”
“Keep it that way, better still, make excuses. I don’t want you seeing anyone whilst you are my slave. Understand?” She came and stood over me, so that
I had to stare up into her face and she could look down into mine.  
“Yes Mistress.” I answered meekly.  
“Tabatha says that I should start out by smothering you, that I need to take you under to understand just how much power I have over you.” As she spoke
Helen sat down on my chest. “After that I can really understand how utterly beneath me you are.” She inched forwards. “Look into my face.” She demanded
and I did so. “Are you scared shitty?” She asked.  
I had to be honest.  
“Yes Mistress.”  
“Why?”  
She knew why! The bitch was just trying to make me squirm.  
“It’s dangerous Mistress.” I answered.  
“Why?”  
She had slid so far forwards that her crotch was covering my chin. I could smell her, the heavy, almost perfumed stink of her cunt.  
“I could die, if you didn’t release me.” I whispered.  
“All down to me then. I mean if I didn’t want to get off your face, what can you do? You, a shitty little cunt licker? I should just smother you, get your
worthless little life over.” She was over my mouth now, with my nose pressed against the damp fabric of her panty crotch. I could still breath, but one
inch further…”So you had better hope that I decide to keep you.” She moved that inch, suffocating me beneath her.  
Knowing what she intended didn’t make things any easier to cope with. I have said that being smothered is frightening; it is more frightening when you
understand the enormity of the threat. If Helen chose she could have killed me.  
Smothering isn’t something that happens in a matter of moments. The pressure builds with each minute you are pinned. A really cruel Mistress can allow
you just enough air to prolong the torture but all the time weakening you, taking you progressively towards that edge.  
Helen proved to be both cruel and skilful. She kept me teetering on the edge of oblivion, and then just pulling me back. Again and again she did this until
I was a damp rag of flesh with no obvious spark of life; then when I didn’t care what she did, she drove me under.  
……………………………………………………………………………..
I revived. I had no sense of time or place. I had been here before and so lay still, allowing my scattered senses to return. I felt weak, very weak and
knew that I was in no condition to move.  
“Welcome back shitty.” Helens sarcastic voice snapped into my drugged senses.  
Slowly I turned my head towards her voice. She was sitting on the bed, apparently rifling once more what had been my private correspondence.  
“Ready for more?”  
“More!” I gasped.  
“Sure.” She crossed the room and sat across my chest once more. I was so weak that even if I’d wanted to resist her I couldn’t have. She moved forwards
until she was straddling my face. I feared the worse and panicked. I had never been smothered twice so rapidly. I formed the words to beg her to stop,
but her smothering arse suffocated the words in my throat. This time she didn’t tease me. I went under in seconds.  
……………………………………………………………………………..  
“Wake up shitty.” It was Helen’s voice and probing foot that eventually rallied my senses. I groaned, almost vomited and simply turned onto my side in
a ball, crying softly. “Not like that!” Helen demanded.  
She rolled me over onto my back. She looked into my tear stained face.  
“You are scum!” She spat the symbols into my face. “Get to your feet.” She demanded.  
I tried. I really did but I was so weak that I couldn’t even raise myself onto my knees. Helen watched my struggles, a grim smile on her face. I was amusing
her. I was her entertainment.  
Eventually, by pulling onto the bed I managed to raise myself up. Helen pushed me in the chest and I collapsed again.  
“I said get up!” She snarled, and aimed a kick at my ribs.  
“Please Mistress.” I gasped, pleading for her to stop. “Please stop. I’ll do anything you want, just please stop.”  
She knew all of this. She had known it from the moment that Tabatha had demonstrated her control over me. This was just Helen extracting pleasure. She
enjoyed cruelty. She enjoyed the way I was grovelling before her.  
Respite came, but not of her choosing. She had a mobile phone; all the girls had one, now Helens buzzed incessantly until angrily she answered. Whilst
she talked I rallied and recovered a semblance of my wits and strength.   
Seeing that I was recovering Helen signalled that I crawl to her feet. She sat on the bed and opened her legs and pointed to her panties. I guessed what
she wanted.  
I had expected her to smother me the first time that I tongue fucked her, but Helen was proving to be nothing like my previous Mistresses.  
I pulled down her panties, with her help; she raised her bottom off my bed. Another gesture and I sniffed her gusset just as she’d seen me sniff the gusset
of Tabatha’s panties.  
All the time she was continuing her conversation. She nodded her approval at my actions and then pulled my pillow beneath her bottom. It raised her cunt
to my eye level. Another gesture and I began to tongue fuck my new Mistress for the first time.  
I am good at tongue fucking. I’d had enough practises. Miranda and Tabatha had both been demanding but had also loaned me out amongst their small cabal
of followers. I realised that when my Mistresses periods struck then I was passed out to another to use.  
I must have serviced a bakers dozen of the arrogant, demanding little cunts. They each had their peculiarities, things they liked or disliked. I became
proficient at sensing what pleased or displeased before they could punish me. I guessed that Helen expected a slavish performance from me.  
Helen was hairier than any of my other Mistresses and the smell and taste of her was also the strongest, her pubic hair was dark, wiry and long, concealing
her long pubic lips behind a protective spike forest.  
I buried myself to my task, alternating between licking and sucking on her cave and teasing her clitoris as it emerged from beneath its hood. The harder
I worked, the longer I teased her clitoris, the wetter and wetter she began.  
I could trace a dribble of her cunt juices down the crack of her arse and ultimately onto my pillow. Tonight I would sleep with Helen’s stink forever in
my nostrils.  
This time her climax was harder, faster and longer than the one mashing my face had induced, and yet she tried to continue her conversation, laughing and
brazenly telling her caller what I was doing.  
The climax soaked both my face and my pillow. It was like facing an erratic shower as spurts of her come splashed against my face and dribbled onto my
pillow.  
Helen squealed and laughed, swearing obscenely as she finished. She said something to her caller and then laughed again. I knew that she was talking about
me and I also knew that that fact didn’t concern me.  
As her climax subsided she pushed against my chest with her bare foot. At the same time she gestured angrily that I should lie down again. I had barely
done so before she was kneeling across my face. This time there were no panties between her body and my face. She turned round so that she was facing my
feet and I was staring up at her tight little anus.  
She was going to smother me again. I panicked remembering how she’d abused me before. Helen finished her phone call and tossed the mobile onto the bed.

“Lick my arse.” She demanded, opening her bum cheeks to me.  
It was almost a relief. I had been afraid that she’d smother me under again, now all she wanted me to do was tickle and tease her bottom. Disgusting though
that prospect was, it was infinitely preferable to suffocation.  
As I began to tickle her anus I realised just how calculated Helen’s attack on me had been. The dual smothering had been designed to terrify me so much
that anything was preferable to that punishment.  
So my term of servitude to Helen began. She would prove to be the hardest and most demanding of my Mistresses. Eventually she would torture and abuse me
like all the others. Farting into my face, making me sniff her stink, carryout her toilet. I did all that but for Helen there would always be another added
layer of abuse or humiliation she could invent.  
The worse was how she handed me out to other girls. It had happened before, but this time Helen sold me to the other girls. I was income, a commodity,
and that made my servitude even worse.

Part 3

There comes a time when each day fades into the next. When you have nothing to look forwards to; then what day it is, what time is it becomes unimportant.
I passed into that state when Helen handed me over to Abigail. The fact that she was the sister of my conqueror, the girl who had first broken my will,
was not lost on either of us.  
Abigail had something to prove. I didn’t realise just how much during the hand over ceremony. It was an almost simple event.  Abigail and Helen shared
me in one drunken evening at the end of which I slept at the bottom of Abigail’s bed.  
I was genuinely glad to see the back of Helen. The longer she had been my mistress then the cruller she had become. It had only been a matter of time before
she’d really hurt me. Helen saw it as her right to suffocate me. She was careless in how much I suffered and my greatest fear was that one time she would
misjudge my punishment.  
I just had the problem of Abigail, only she wasn’t really a problem, I wasn’t allowed problems. A slave had no problems. Abigail had one. She wanted to
make her year a memorable one. I was a minor part of that, but still she wanted to use me in someway that none of my previous mistress’s had.  
I still taught, now only the younger girls. I couldn’t handle the senior classes, as my position was now well known within the senior year. My slavery
might once have been a secret but not any more.  
Abigail was also the most brazen of my mistresses, within a month of taking procession of me; she had sold my services to half of her year. She literally
auctioned me every time it was her period. I had to suffer the humiliation of standing in the classroom whilst Abigail carried out her sale.  
Still the year passed, somewhere my twenty-seventh birthday also passed. I didn’t celebrate it. I can’t remember what I was doing, save that it would have
involved serving my Mistress in some way.  
Finally the year reached the end of term, the end of Abigail’s ownership of my body. Abigail celebrated by an almost organistic party at which I was the
chief toy, and yet no particular mistress initiated me. I was left battered and bemused.  
Abigail followed her morning ritual. I had already sniffed her early morning farts and teased her to a gentle orgasm. Now I prepared her breakfast whilst
she had a shit. Sometimes I had to wipe her arse, it depended on her mood. Today she was ebullient, overflowing with something akin to ecstasy. I couldn’t
say anything; the mistress to slave code meant I could only speak when spoken to.  
I stood obediently by whilst Abigail finished her breakfast coffee. One of the privileges of being the Head Girl was to right to have her breakfast in
her own room. Abigail used this privilege to the full; it allowed her an early chance to abuse me.  
“Read this!” Abigail pushed a folded piece of paper towards me. Deferentially I collected the paper and read it. “Know what it is?” Abigail grinned. She
was really enjoying herself.  
“An address Mistress!” I was puzzled.  
“You have to be there by eleven thirty this morning.” She finished her coffee and stood up. “You will ask for a Mrs. Addison Reynolds.”  
“I don’t understand.” I spluttered. It was the nearest I’d come to challenging her.  
“You have to be at this address by eleven thirty this morning. When you get there, you ask for Mrs. Addison Reynolds, now what is there to understand?”
Abigail didn’t have a great deal of patience.  
I hadn’t been off the grounds for over a year, my car had been sold on Helen’s instructions. I had no way of reaching the address, a plush hotel thirty
miles away.  
“What’s the problem now?” Abigail demanded to know.  
“How do I get there?” I stammered.  
“For someone with a degree you are FUCKIN STUPID!” Abigail exploded into my face. Immediately I stepped away; but not before Abigail had delivered a stinging
slap to my face. I fell to my knees; head down, awaiting her next move.  
“There is a bus from the village, be on it!” She dismissed me with a petulant tug at my hair. “Don’t miss it, I will be very very angry if you do.”  
“Please mistress, I have no money.” I whispered. It was true. I didn’t need money; slaves didn’t need money. It was Helen who’d first taken my salary,
then Abigail.  
“Here!” Abigail tossed me a five-pound note. “Now get going!”  
I ran to the village, arriving breathless. I only just made it and collapsed onto a seat as the bus pulled out.  
The scenery sped by; absently I tried to take in the countryside. It was ordinary enough, but to someone starved of such views it was paradise.  
I didn’t talk to the few passengers. I had forgotten had to make small talk. The school was a closed community and I was the most reclusive of all.  
Pretty soon I had to change buses and the scenery changed to the ribbon type development of thirties Britain . I stared at detached house after detached
house, and then suddenly I was disembarking near to the hotel.  
I was hyperventilating by the time I reached reception, by the time I was heading for the Penthouse suite I was walking on eggshells, with nerveless fingers
I knocked on the simple white door. After a few moments the door opened and a woman stood in the entrance.  
“Mrs…” I’d forgotten her name. I fumbled for the sheet of paper my mistress had given me.  
“You’ll be Anthea, follow me!” She turned on her heels. She was brisk and business like but her accent was strange, a mixture of English and something
else.  
I did as I was told. It had become easier than thinking, do what you were told, lick who ever you were told.  
The woman, I still couldn’t remember her name, looked familiar. She led me into a magnificent room with a view overlooking the ocean.  
“You are prettier than I expected.” The stranger said. She was older than me, not much, a year or so, her beauty was striking, from her manicured hair
to her tight butt, the stranger was sexually
magnificent. “Do you know who I am?”  
“No miss.” I managed to stop myself.  
The stranger laughed. “Say it, go on, and say mistress, that was what you were going to say, wasn’t it?” As she spoke she was circling me, suddenly she
grabbed my arse. I twitched in resistance, but four years of utter subjugation to other women, made my resistance weak. “Keep your hands together.” She
ordered as she unzipped my skirt.  
Soon I was naked. I had made no attempt to stop her nor did I make no attempt to shield myself. I just stood there, stark naked and utterly helpless. She
wasn’t my mistress but she might have well as been.  
She continued to circle me. “You’re skinny! Abigail hasn’t been feeding you properly!” Each time she touched me I flinched.  
At the mention of my mistresses name my head shot up. What had Abigail got to do with this? Why had she sent me here, to meet this dominating older woman?

“Still don’t get it, do you?” I didn’t answer. This had nothing to do with me talking back. “Remember Miranda? Remember that first time you licked her
pussy? Of course you do, now tell me, who am I?”  
I fumbled for the paper Abigail had given me. “Mrs Addison Reynolds.” I replied as clearly as I could.  
“Mrs Addison Reynolds, and what do Miranda and Abigail Wylie have in common with me? COME ON! THINK!” She was in my face. I could smell her perfume; it
was strong and expensive.  
I was flustered. I just looked blankly at her, unable to think. She shook her head in frustration.  
“Follow me.”  
The bedroom was opulent. The bed itself was king-size. She gestured to me. “Get on the bed!” She said flatly.  
I did so. I was numb of feelings, bemused, confused and yet still utterly complaint to any woman who knew what button to press. Miranda had started this
and finally Abigail had completed my education, now this unknown woman .. the truth hit me as hard as any slap I’d received in the past four years. “You’re
related!” I blurted out.  
The woman smiled. “AT last!” She climbed onto the bed, pushing me down. As casually as any of my mistresses before her, the woman straddled me, sitting
on my chest, pinning my arms beneath her knees. “Now, how are we related?”  
I did some quick maths, Abigail was eighteen, Miranda now would be twenty-two or three, this woman was perhaps thirty, a cousin, aunt or, or an elder sister.
I stared again. She looked like them. Yes, she had to be an elder sister.  
“You’re sisters!” I whispered.  
“Correct. Miranda and Abigail are my kid sisters.” She smirked at me. “They have told me so much about you, how obedient you are, how good your tongue
has become. Everything, from the very first day.” She slid forwards until her crotch was resting on my chin.  
Addison was wearing a pair of ultra tight ski pants; the sheer material framed my view of her. “I wanted to meet you, and here we are, with your nose in
my crotch, why don’t you have a big sniff.”  
I did so. After four years I’d smelt every type of pussy, from the scented to the stale, the worse had almost made me gag. Addison ’s didn’t, it was strong,
almost pungent, and she was aroused.  
I knew what was going to happen, soon I’d be buried under her arse, my tongue inside her cunt, and I’d stay there until she decided otherwise.  
“You won’t run away whilst I undress? Will you?”  
“No Mistress.” I whispered.  
“I thought not, but just in case.” She climbed off me. I was grateful for that. Addison was heavier than either of her sisters, only three or four kilo’s,
but it was enough for me to notice the difference.  
From the bedside cabinet Addison produced a pair of handcuffs. “Better to be safe than sorry.” She didn’t need to do this and I think she knew it, but
all the same Addison clipped my ankles together. I couldn’t have walked, let alone run. She was making a simple statement, which she could do anything
she wished to me.  
Addison undressed slowly. She had a fine figure, toned, almost muscular, but very feminine. I realised that I was looking at a woman’s naked figure and
not the still developing figures of her sisters. Addison was in her prime, both physically and sexually.  
I found the sight of her naked body arousing, the long forgotten tingle in my nipples, the slow moistening between my thighs.  
Addison must have seen the reaction her nudity had brought on. “Hands above your head.” She ordered. I did as I was told. She pulled another set of handcuffs
from the bedside cabinet; with them Addison handcuffed my wrists together and then used a belt to tie me to the bed.  
“Now, lets get to understand a few things.” Addison came and straddled my hips, sitting down on my belly button. I could feel the spiky stubble of her
pubic hair and the dampness that nestled between.  
She brushed a long, sharp fingernail across my nipples, hard enough to hurt me and at the same time induce sensations of pleasure. Unbidden by me; my nipples
rose, hard, rubbery stubs of flesh.  
“Does having your face fucked turn you on?” She asked.  
“No Mistress.” I replied.  
“These!” She flicked each nipple in turn, the hard enamel of her fingernails stung. “These!” She did it again. I whimpered. “Tell me otherwise. I won’t
be lied to. I can be a kind mistress or a cruel one. You chose which you’d prefer to serve. Now tell me and quickly.”  
“Please mistress. I think you are very attractive.” I stammered and found myself blushing furiously. It was tantamount to an admission of lesbianism.  

Addison laughed. She laughed until her eyes watered, great sobs seemed to wrack her body. She even had to lean against me until she regained control.  

“You fancy me?” Addison said and started laughing again.  
“No mistress.” I pleaded in between her laughter. “I think you are attractive, but I couldn’t fancy you.”  
Suddenly Addison was sober. “I think you are lying.”  
“No mistress.” I protested.  
“Yes and you need to be punished.”  
I didn’t argue further. It would be no use and anyway I was already accepting my punishment, what ever that would be.  
Addison wriggled up my body until her bare arse filled my view and then she sat down full weight on me. I felt her damp, clammy cunt as it spread across
my face. She didn’t move and slowly I started to panic. Addison wasn’t going to move, she wasn’t going to allow me to breath. I tried to struggle but bound
and now suffocated I had no chance. Finally I gave up the uneven struggle. I could feel my senses leave me and at last the darkness came.  
When I recovered I was still bound and naked on Addison ’s bed. She was nowhere to be seen. Experimentally I tried my bonds but they were still secure.

“Awake?”  
Addison ’s voice snapped into my senses. She was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, now dressed again in those clinging ski pants and a tight white
top.  
“Yes mistress.”  
“You annoyed me.” Addison said.  
“I’m sorry mistress.” I blurted out.  
“We’ll see.” Addison began once more to strip. All the time she kept her eyes locked on me. I prayed that my tits wouldn’t react to the sight of her naked.
This time I won; it was a pitiful victory, but a victory.  
“Better.” She finished undressing. She was magnificent, but I tried to remember that she was also a ruthless exploiter, someone who would think nothing
of punishing me, hurting me, what ever she pleased.  
Addison climbed onto my face; her pussy hovered above me. I stared up at her glistening lips, the sharp scrub of pubic hair. She was aroused, ready for
my tongue. She just had to signal the start. Slowly she lowered herself until my nose brushed against her skin. The smell was almost over powering. Finally
she was resting across my face. “Make me come.” I heard her order.  
I did so. I was slavish in my dedication, desperate to please her, this mystery woman who claimed that she was my new mistress. All the questions as to
how this could be were unimportant. I just had to make her climax, give her the best possible sex that I could.  
I discovered that pleasing Addison was different to pleasing my teenage mistresses. Addison was a sexually mature and experienced woman. She responded
to the little tricks I’d learnt on Miranda or Tabatha or Helen or Abigail but none made her climax. She had to be coaxed, flattered, almost persuaded to
her climax, but finally I succeeded.  
Addison came, a shuddering, gushing climax, which almost drowned me in her juices. She sank down on to my face, smearing me with the remnants of her climax.
She forgot I was there. I was an object, just something that she processed, just like a piece of furniture.  
Eventually she moved enough for me to breath, gratefully I drew in a lungful of almost fresh air and then Addison returned to her position.  
“Very good!” She breathed eventually. “I should compliment my sisters, you have been trained well.”  
I was still trapped beneath her. Slowly Addison levered herself off me and I gasped for air, then Addison twisted round, presenting her arse to me. “Lick
my butt.” She commanded and I did so.  
Finally Addison was satisfied and she left me still bound to her bed whilst she showered. When she returned, submerged in an oversized white wrap around
she finally released me.  
“Get dressed.” She ordered. “Use the bathroom if you need to.”  
Gratefully I scurried to the bathroom. I need to pee and wash her gloo from my face, then I dressed, conscious of how shabby my clothes had become.  
Addison had ordered food to be brought to the suite and we sat and ate on the balcony, the late afternoon sun was still warm on our faces.  
It seemed un-natural to be sitting with my Mistress and sharing a meal.  
“I have two daughters, Bethany is seven and Melody is four.” Addison began. I didn’t say anything. I was famished and the food; even the sandwiches, were
fabulous. She had been right; Abigail had been starving me. “When they are twelve I will send them to the school, until then they need a teacher.” She
had been looking out to sea but now she looked directly at me. “I am told you are a very good teacher.”  
I didn’t know what to say. I even blushed a little before whispering something about how I enjoyed teaching.  
“Good.” Addison sipped her wine. I had water. I hadn’t drunk alcohol for years. Slaves didn’t qualify for such luxuries. “I live in California .” Addison
continued. “I’m returning there in three days, you’ll be coming with me.”  
I just stared at her.  
“What’s wrong? Addison asked.  
I simply shook my head. It wasn’t how a slave should answer her Mistress, but I was to stunned to answer correctly.  
“Well?” Addison asked sharply, reasserting her dominance over me. “I asked you a question, answer me!”  
“I don’t know what to say!” I stammered. “I don’t even know if I have a passport! Why me?” I finally managed to stutter.  
“You’re a good teacher, a good pussy licker and besides, do you want to spend the rest of your life having some seventeen year old kid rubbing her ass
over your face?”  
“No!” I whispered.  
“Mistress!” Addison insisted.  
“Yes Mistress, I mean no Mistress.” I stumbled over the words.  
Addison laughed. “You know, for someone so good with their tongue, you can’t string two words together.”  
I smiled and accepted her insults.  
“Then it’s settled. You can stop here until we fly.”  
“The school?” I whispered.  
“All taken care of, as is your passport, work permit, everything. In less than seventy-two hours you’ll be in California . I have a lovely estate overlooking
the ocean. You’ll love it there.” Addison sipped at her wine. “You will teach my daughters and pleasure me. It’s a simple enough task.” Addison lifted
her right leg and rested the foot on the rail of the balcony. “Now come here and start to earn your keep.” Addison swept the wrap around open and I dropped
to my knees and crawled between her legs. Addison grabbed my hair and pulled my face into her cunt.  

Epilogue  
I have been Addison’s slave for five years now. She has been true to her word and has been a kind mistress and I am grateful for that. She says that when
the girls have gone onto the school then I can leave, but that frightens me. I haven’t really lived in the real world for ten years now. I don’t know how
I’ll cope, or if I even want to.  
Perhaps Addison will let me stay. I hope so.