The end of the night

You step back from the redhead, your cock glistening with her saliva, and tuck yourself into your trousers. She whimpers, looking up with hungry eyes, but you ignore her. The night is winding down. You have business to finish.

You stride across the teachers' lounge, past the groaning slaves and the teachers still engaged in their perverse games. The winning teacher—a stout man with a gray beard, Mr. Aldridge—is already collecting his prize. Hannah stands beside him, still blindfolded, her wrists bound behind her back, her pierced nipples visible through her thin cheerleader top. She trembles, eager and obedient.

“Congratulations,” you say, extending your hand. “Hannah is yours for the weekend. And I believe you requested a second pet?”

Mr. Aldridge grins, his yellowed teeth showing. “I did indeed, Headmaster. The little blonde with the tight ass. The one that squeals when you pinch her clit.”

You nod, snapping your fingers at a nearby slave handler. “Bring Chloe. She’s in the training room. Tell her she’s been assigned to Mr. Aldridge for the next forty-eight hours.”

The handler bows and scurries off. Mr. Aldridge claps you on the shoulder. “You run a fine establishment. My clients will be thrilled with this fresh stock.”

“Use them hard,” you reply. “That’s what they’re for.”

You turn away, scanning the room for Kirsty. You spot her near the bar, surrounded by three older teachers. One of them, a balding man with a potbelly, has his hand between her legs, his fingers working beneath the fabric of her lace bodysuit. Kirsty stands perfectly still, her face blank, her eyes fixed on a point on the wall. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t moan, doesn’t react at all.

You watch for a moment, a faint smile touching your lips. She’s been trained well. The other teachers are groping her tits, squeezing her ass, trying to get a reaction. Nothing.

You approach, cutting through the circle. “Gentlemen. I believe you’ve had enough of my property for the evening.”

The balding teacher pulls his hand out of Kirsty’s bodysuit, his fingers wet. “Just having a little fun, Headmaster. She’s a statue. Perfect.”

You take Kirsty’s arm, guiding her away. She follows without a word, her heels clicking on the floor. You lead her out of the lounge, down the darkened hallway toward your private quarters. The door clicks shut behind you, sealing out the noise of the ongoing debauchery.

You release her arm and turn to face her. “Strip.”

She complies immediately, peeling off the lace bodysuit, standing naked before you. Her heavy tits hang perfectly, nipples already hard. Her shaven pussy is smooth, the lips slightly parted. She keeps her eyes downcast, hands at her sides, a perfect slave.

“I have a new uniform to test,” you say, walking to the wardrobe. You pull out a set of tight gym shorts in a deep crimson color, and a matching crop top. The material is strange—silky but with a rough texture woven into the fabric. You toss them at her. “Put them on.”

Kirsty catches the clothes and dresses quickly. The shorts hug her hips and ass like a second skin, the fabric pulling tight across her mound. The crop top covers her tits but barely, the material designed to create friction. You watch as her nipples immediately react, the rough texture abrading them through the thin fabric. They stiffen, poking visibly against the top. The shorts, too, have a subtle seam that runs directly over her clit, designed to chafe and stimulate with every movement.

“Turn around,” you command.

She spins slowly, letting you inspect every curve. The shorts cling to her round ass, the fabric riding up between her cheeks. You step close, running your hands over her hips, down her thighs, then up to cup her tits. The crop top is tight, the friction of the fabric making her nipples stand out hard. You pinch them through the material, rubbing the rough weave against her sensitive flesh. She inhales sharply but remains silent.

You slide your hand down her stomach, pressing the heel of your palm against her mound. The seam of the shorts digs into her clit, and you press harder, feeling the heat of her pussy through the fabric. She’s wet already—you can smell her arousal.

“Good,” you murmur. “The design works perfectly.”

You step back, unzipping your trousers. Your cock springs free, still hard from the earlier encounter. “On your knees.”

Kirsty drops immediately, settling onto the thick carpet. She looks up at you, her eyes glazed with submission, her tongue already darting out to wet her lips. You grip the base of your cock and stroke slowly, letting her watch.

“You’re going to finish me off tonight,” you say, stepping closer. “And you’re going to swallow every drop. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

You guide the head of your cock to her lips. She opens her mouth wide, tongue extended, waiting. You slide inside, feeling the wet heat of her mouth envelop you. She doesn’t move yet—only waits for your command.

“Suck,” you order.

Her lips close around your shaft, and she begins to work, her tongue swirling around the head, her cheeks hollowing as she draws you deeper. The feeling is exquisite—her mouth is skilled, practiced, every movement designed to please. You let your head fall back, savoring the wet sounds of her sucking, the way her throat convulses as she takes you to the base.

You grip her hair, holding her steady, and begin to thrust slowly into her mouth. She takes it without resistance, her hands gripping her own thighs, her body perfectly still as you fuck her face. The crop top still abrades her nipples, and you can see her hips twitch, the seam of the shorts grinding against her clit with each small movement.

You pull out, letting her gasp for air, your cock slick with her saliva. “Tongue out,” you command.

She extends her tongue, and you rub the head of your cock against it, smearing pre-cum across the pink muscle. She whimpers, her eyes pleading for more.

“You want my cum, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” she breathes, her tongue still out.

You slide back into her mouth, deeper this time, until your balls press against her chin. You hold her there, feeling her throat contract around the head, and then you let go, pumping your cum directly down her throat. She swallows eagerly, her tongue milking your shaft, catching every drop.

When you pull out, she licks her lips, a thin string of cum connecting her mouth to your cock. She looks up at you, waiting for your next command.

“Clean me,” you say, stepping back.

She leans forward, her tongue tracing the length of your shaft, lapping up the remaining moisture. You watch her, satisfied, your cock already beginning to soften.

“Good girl,” you murmur. “Now lie down on the bed. Face down. I want to see how that uniform holds up while you sleep.”

She obeys instantly, crawling onto your bed, her ass presented perfectly in the tight crimson shorts. You smile, already planning tomorrow’s training.