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Author Topic: Accidents and Consequences (fF, BDSM, public, humiliation, interracial, anal)  (Read 99 times)
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Valley Vixin
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Married white professional woman with secrets


« on: November 21, 2020, 12:28:31 PM »



I have two lives.  One is perfectly normal.  I am a fifty-year-old teacher, with a loving husband and three daughters in University.   I was the model trophy wife, natural redhead, the first Cosplay I could actually do without feeling ridiculous was Jessica Rabbit, because my curves belong in the 1940’s not the post Twiggy age of the stick figures.  I was that conservative somewhat frumpy super organizer and volunteer for everything that makes so many suburban stereotypes, but also makes so much of what our kids have actually happen.

Then there was the other life.  The one that was supposed to remain a fantasy.  My sex drive has accelerated since my twenties and has reached a fever pitch right about the time my husbands seemed to die of natural causes.  I sought to suppress it.  That didn’t go well.   I sought to channel it, mostly through reading fantasy, then writing it.

But someone read it.  My Lady read what I wrote and saw through it into me.  She reached out to me almost casually and in my desperate hunger I delivered myself utterly and without defense into her ownership.  She didn’t seek to collar me, but when I collared myself and followed leash in my teeth behind her all the way home she didn’t quite throw me out.

She warned me that eventually she would take everything from me.  My career, my family, my pride.  She didn’t have much use for most of them, or me, except when the mood struck her.  Then her attention would light my soul and body on fire, and I would do anything, pay anything, risk anything for just one more moment as her plaything.

It had come upon me by accident, and by accident perhaps it will all come undone.  I had two worlds, but today they clashed.

I received a message from My Lady on my phone.

“I was in an accident on the motorway.  I was at fault.  I cannot afford an insurance claim right now.  The party I struck is willing to let it go.  If you will help me.”

My Lady was in an accident, fear rose up in me and the storm in my blood demanded action.  My Lady NEEDS me.  Now the hormones not calling for battle were storming for love.  I needed her, she never needed me.  I needed her more than oxygen, and she looked at me like a dessert she was never sure if she should indulge in, but thought she might enjoy.

I almost punched through the phone screen in my urgency to type back my response.

“Anything My Lady, I will do anything to make it better for you!  Please, I beg you, what may I do to help?”  I was terrified she would decide it was too much of an imposition and deal with it herself.  I had a chance, a chance to prove my devotion, and better, my utility.  I could be the one she needed, and perhaps make me the one she turned to first, not just eventually when she got bored with her normal play.

Why didn’t I ask?  Why didn’t it once occur to me to ask why someone she just met through a motorway accident should be willing to waive thousands of pounds of damage to her vehicle just in return for something from me.  Who was I to them?  Some random school teacher in the suburbs?

My desires to protect My Lady, to serve My Lady, to be used by and to please My Lady had pretty much stopped my mind from doing anything beyond fantasizing about her being pleased with me.  Perhaps pleased enough with me to touch my hair, my cheek, my body.  Perhaps even pleased enough with me to let me kiss the lips I had never once been permitted to kiss.

This was, of course, a dangerous mistake.  My Lady warned me to protect my career, my family, my status and my pride until she chose to strip them from me.  She told me she would do it, I basked in her protection, yet waited with pathetic eagerness for her protection to end and her threats to be real.

Then the text came.

“Go to the library.  The girl I struck will await you there.  She is most unhappy and looking for someone to take it out on.  I suggest you do whatever it takes to satisfy her, as I really cannot afford a damage claim at this time.  If she is not pleased, and puts in a damage claim, we are done pet.”

That threat.  When she said “girl” not woman or man it should have set off alarm bells.  When she said waiting for me at the Library, not the office, it should have set off other alarm bells.  Only students and staff were allowed in the halls and to the library, so a stranger should have had to wait at the office.  The threat, that she would be done with me if I failed shut off my brain.

I took my purse and pulled my cord from it.  The green cord that bound my left wrist in token for the collar I had not earned yet and would only be permitted to wear with her.  I took the pencil she had given me, the one I was to write my daily devotions with, more for spiritual support than any rational reason, and I hurried down the hall.  I unbuttoned two buttons on my blouse, my standing instruction from My Lady when I was on her business.

I was blushing, and my silk blouse was betraying me as my nipples strained the smooth fabric as they fought against the rough fabric of my stupidly expensive bra.  Walking fast with 48G breasts even on flats is not something you can do when sexually aroused without every eye noting and tracking the movement of the nipples waving energetically through the silk of the blouse.

All the boys, some of the girls and all of the staff tracked me as conversations either trailed off or veered directly into the gutter as I bounced past.  There was a reason I never walked fast in the halls, this is what I took great pains to avoid, but urgency drove me past the spinal reflex to conceal.

I got to the library in a daze and was shocked back to reality with a familiar and frightening laughter.

Saanvi.  Saanvi was a lanky Hindi final form girl.  She was one of those frustrating students that I will never enjoy.  She was frighteningly intelligent, but lazy.  She did amazing work, but just enough to get an A and not a single comma more.  She lived for group assignments where she would rule like a tyrant and let everyone else do the work for her, yet the groups she led generally did very well.  Her parents were rich and she was far too grounded in the reality of how advancement worked to pretend that her grades would decide her future, or that those that worked twice as hard as her had any chance at all of rising higher than her employee.

Saanvi and I had clashed both times I had her in my class because I would not permit her to treat class as her chance to hold social court, and routinely broke up her cliques using enough extra assignments as encouragement to convince her hangers on that attending to her rather than their studies in my class was a good way to lose all their free time to extra work.

On some level, she came to respect the fact I could not be sweet talked, back talked, bribed or threatened because I really didn’t want anything more in life than the job I already had.  An armed truce of a sort existed.

“Oh my freaking god, that slag was telling the truth.  Tell me you are here to pay off (she used My Lady’s name, but honestly, I can’t even write it without permission)!”

I was in front of her in an instant, my body forgetting for a second I was a teacher standing before a student, and dropping thirty years to the past when I was a soldier and my responses were governed by rules of engagement not the Pastoral Program anti-bullying initiatives.

I had one hand wrapped around her school tie and the second on her throat as I whispered directly into those wide, oh so expressive eyes.

“You will not refer to My Lady as a slag again, unless you want that pretty little ass of yours kicked well and thoroughly!”  I hissed, rage at her casual insult towards My Lady had again overcome my brain.

Saanvi’s eyes were very wide, and her soft pouty lips pursed thoughtfully.  A false innocent look shaped upon her face with theatrical flourish, and in a little girl voice she began,

“I am so sorry Mrs Thomas, I clearly misunderstood.  I thought I was talking to the domesticated big titted slut Jan that I was promised if I would tell daddy my car was struck in a hit and run in the parking lot, and not by slut Jan’s owner on the motorway.  I guess I will put in that claim now, and she will have to pay in something other than her little slut.”

Oh god!

I leg go her neck, smoothed out her tie desperately, stepped back babbling desperately all the while.

“I’m sorry Saanvi, I’m sorry.  Yes, I am her Jan, I am here to be her payment. I swear I will do whatever it takes to make it right, just please, please don’t make a claim”  I was babbling desperately, and she was smirking.

Leaning back against the rail, she looked at me with casual arrogance and established our relative positions with calm finality.

“Clumsy cow!”  She pouted.  “My neck was already sore from the accident, and now look, your stupid cow hooves have caught my shoelace and undone it.”

I looked down, one shoelace was undone.  Students were passing in the hall, staring at the confrontation between us with the sort of half awareness crowds get when something is out of place but none can say why.  Her legs were long and lean, bronze skin of her Hindu ancestry giving it the richness nylons were attempting to give white women, the long grey leg warmers with little bows lent a girlish air to a woman’s body as her eighteen year old self turned her school uniform into something a lot less girlish and a lot more potent.

“Be a good cow, and undo a couple more buttons.  Show me you really don’t want me making that call”

Saanvi watched as I unbuttoned my blouse to show the top of my bra, and enough cleavage to violate the dress code utterly and cause two of the passing male students to walk into the concrete pillars in front of the library.

Saanvi smiled.  “Good girl.  Now be a pet and kneel before me to tie the shoelace you pulled.”

I could hear the whispers. There I was kneeling before Saanvi in front of the library.  I reached down and tied her shoe into a pretty bow, as she giggled and caught a few pictures on her phone.  She told me to smile, and I looked up and smiled from her feet, knowing that angle showed most of my boobs as I knelt at her foot.

I was beginning to feel the abyss open up.  This was school.  This was the line you don’t cross.  Sure, she was technically an adult, that would stop jail not job loss.  This would not save my marriage or reputation either.  Everything in my life demanded I put a stop to this while I still could.

Saanvi had her phone in her hand.  One phone call to the insurance and My Lady would never talk to me again.  Everything in my life except My Lady said stop this.  My Lady.  My glorious uncaring Lady.  I must go on.  I must not fail!

Saanvi took the key that was on the tie at her wrist and opened the library.  I remembered she assisted Mr Patel the Librarian and thus had a key. 

“Come my undisciplined little cow, I have quite a few issues to work out with you before I will allow you to plead for your ‘lady’s’ case.”

Locking the door behind us, Saanvi smiled like a cat with a three legged mouse, both cruel and playful.

“I had two years of putting up with your holier than thou bullshit, only to find out you are some sort of lezbo slave slut, and you still had the NERVE to demand I act properly deferential to your position?”

She was glorious, the mask was off.  She was angry, demanding, regal and cruel as some ancient goddess dealing with an unbeliever.

“Get those clothes off, I won’t have you pretending to be a teacher when you are nothing but a whore; pimped out to get your owner out of an accident claim.  I mean, how did you fool us all this long?”

I stripped.  Her words should be upsetting me, but the reality was, being told I was being pimped out by My Lady was not upsetting.  I was her whore.  I was HER whore.  I felt the blush creep over me.  I was not just humiliated; I was turned on.  I was My Lady’s whore, I would be the best whore she could ask, even for this stuck-up little princess.

“Hands behind your head!”  Saanvi snapped.  She had set up her laptop and turned to stand in front of me now with a sneer.

“So, tell me the truth or this will go very hard for you.  Those tits are fake, aren’t they?”

Saanvi reached out to cup my left breast and squeeze it.  I gave a small groan.

“No ma’am.  They are natural!”  It was true.  Honestly, I didn’t ask for the damned things, but they were all mine.

“Shut up!”  Saanvi swore, disbelieving.  She spanked first one, then the other.  I began to moan as she spanked my breasts savagely, slapping from above, from the side, from below, seemingly fascinated by the way they bounced.

“Oh do be quiet.”  Saanvi said, taking My Lady’s pencil from my purse and putting it between my teeth like a horse’s bit.  “Break that, and I will pierce your nipple with it!”  Saanvi snapped.

“Holy fuck, I think they really are real.  Real, and mine.”  Saanvi closed her lips to suck on my left nipple causing me to whimper and clutch her head to my breast.

Saanvi pulled back after a few minutes of heaven, alternately sucking my breasts and biting them with a new light in her eyes.

“Get over the table, I am not done punishing you yet!”

She bent me over the table and took off one of her shoes.  She began to spank my ass with vigor, again watching the heart shaped muscular ass I worked so hard to keep bounce and jump under her strikes.

I felt her hands on my ass, spreading my cheeks.  A wet finger pushed into my ass making me squeal.

“Fuck is that tight, I mean, a girl could lose a finger in there.  You really are a tight ass aren’t you, slut?”

I tried to tell her I wasn’t a slut; but slobbering around a pencil even I didn’t believe me.

She spanked me some more with the shoe, then stepped between my legs and forced two fingers deep inside my vagina.  I felt myself arching to raise my hips as she did.

“Oh there it is, the slut nature finally proves itself.  You are wetter than the pool, and probably deeper.  Oh my god, feel you milking my fingers.  What a hungry little cunt.  How is it you haven’t spread your legs for the whole rugby club with this hungry little thing to feed?”

All I could do is moan around her fingers. I was on the edge of cumming, but she felt that and stopped.

“Oh no you don’t!  This is punishment, not a treat.  You said you wanted to kick my ass earlier, well you can kiss it now.  Pull my panties down with your teeth, then you can kiss my ass until I don’t feel like calling in about my car.”

She turned  and leaned over the big library check out desk, her little black skirt pointing to me, and those adorable grey leg warmers looking so girlish on legs that were pure bronze Hindu womanhood.

I crawled to her legs.  I kissed her ankle on the right side and caressed up both legs until I got under her skirt.

Men always went right for the pussy, like all a woman was is a series of holes.  I knew how much my own hips and thighs excited me, the small of my back, the hollow behind the knee.  I came up beneath her skirt and kissed my way along her back-panty line, letting my tongue trace the ridges of her spine above her ass.  Taking the band in my teeth, I began to pull her panties down, letting my fingers trace the hollows of her hips, and dance down the long lean lines of her thigh muscles.  I stopped to kiss the inside of her knee, letting my tongue dart out to taste the sweat above the leg warmer.  I could hear her moan as she stepped out of her panties and thrust her ass out to me.

I caressed her ass, then let my nails drag along its bronze smooth perfection.  Where mine was high and round hers was compact and dimpled.  I kissed and sucked on her tight young ass cheeks, letting my fingers knead her like I was baking bread.  I eased her cheeks apart and feathered kisses between them, hearing her breath catch as I kissed the dark rosebud between them.

“What the fuck are you do-eeeeee!”  Her words cut off as my tongue darted in to circle her tight little asshole.  I sucked her ass into my lips, then began urgent little circles with my tongue, each time pressing a little more.

I felt her hand snake back and grab my long red hair, pulling me wordlessly deeper as my tongue started to push inside her tight little asshole.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!”  I could hear her voice now, not so calm and controlled anymore.  Now growing urgent.

I pushed into her tight little ass, letting my fingers slide around her hips and pull her to me, tongue driving deeper, dancing, teasing.  I have a long muscular tongue.  Normally only something I notice when I sneeze and accidentally bite it, but every once in a while, I find out why a hundred thousand years of sexual selection gifted me with a long pink snake like tongue.  It can really get deep inside and make magic.

Now she was begging.  “Please, please, please!”  Her one hand was pushing on the desk, pushing back into me.  The other was dancing on her clit with fevered urgency.

She started to cum, and her whole body jumped like she hit a live wire.

She screamed and clutched the desk.  Thrashing so much her braids knocked the bar code scanner off the desk, she tried to get away lunging forward, but I pinned her against the desk and drove my tongue relentlessly in her.  I forced her to ride that orgasm through every shattering wave until her body hung loose like a string cut puppet, doing nothing but breathing in shattered helpless gasps.

I stroked her back, her hair, and she clutched my arm, pulling it under her to suck on and bite lightly my finger.

“So,”  I asked her quietly “will you tell my lady you are satisfied, and not put in a claim on her insurance?”

She bit my finger lightly, and I felt her nod.  I decided to press My Lady’s case while Saanvi’s defenses were down.

“If you promise not to tell anyone about this, and you put both My Lady’s car and your own on your insurance, I promise I will show you what I can do with my tongue in that beautiful pussy of yours”

As I dressed slowly and contentedly, I saw Saanvi texting fiercely on her phone.  I don’t know what she will decide, I only know I have done my duty to My Lady.  If I am to be her whore, I will strive to be the best whore she can ask.





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I am the conservative good girl I was raised to be.  I am the submissive slut I was born to be.  The gap between them is where this all comes from.
MintJulie
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« Reply #1 on: November 21, 2020, 02:17:31 PM »


Well written VV.  And a nice wake me up story over coffee this morning.

And I see you added it to your List Of Stories already.  Well done.
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A true act of goodwill...
always sparks another
msslave
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« Reply #2 on: November 21, 2020, 02:37:40 PM »

Super hot story V V. Wow!  As a male submissive I could easily put myself in your character's place.
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Well trained and been made compliant....by our two cats.
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