Sample the games

You rise from your chair, letting your hand slide off Kirsty's head as you step forward. The room's chatter dims when you clear your throat.

"Gentlemen," you announce, voice carrying authority. "The event begins now. Gather around."

The teachers move with practiced ease, settling into the chairs arranged in a loose circle around Hannah. She kneels in the center, blindfolded, wrists bound behind her back, her cheerleader skirt pooling around her thighs. Her pierced nipples press against the thin fabric of her cropped top, hard and visible.

"Blindfolds on," you command. Six teachers, including Mr Harrison, pull dark silk strips over their eyes. A large screen mounted on the wall flickers to life, displaying a stopwatch. "Hannah's expert tongue will service each of you. The stopwatch tracks total time until the last teacher cums. The winner—the one who holds out longest while still enjoying her mouth—claims Hannah and one additional pet for the weekend."

A collective murmur of approval ripples through the room. You watch as the first teacher, Mr Davies, positions himself in front of Hannah. She opens her mouth obediently, tongue extended, waiting.

You retake your seat, and Kirsty immediately crawls between your legs. Her fingers find your belt, unbuckling it with practiced ease. She pulls your cock free, already half-hard, and wraps her lips around the tip without hesitation.

You lean back, sipping your scotch, watching the screen as the stopwatch begins. Hannah's head bobs forward, her mouth engulfing Mr Davies' cock. The blindfolded teachers shift in their seats, anticipation thick in the air.

Kirsty's tongue rolls over your shaft, warm and wet, her eyes cast upward, watching your face for approval. You rest a hand on her head, guiding her pace. Slow. Teasing. She moans softly around your cock, the vibration sending pleasant shivers through your groin.

On the screen, the timer ticks past two minutes. Mr Davies' breathing grows ragged. Hannah's skill is evident—she takes him deep, her throat relaxing, her tongue swirling around the head. She knows exactly how to push a man to the edge without letting him fall.

Your gaze drifts across the room, past the circle of blindfolded teachers, past the dartboard girl still trembling with markers on her flesh. Near the bar, Mr Smith stands with a new addition.

You freeze, cock twitching in Kirsty's mouth.

She's tiny. Petite. Blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail, swinging with every slight movement. C cup tits strain against a white blouse, unbuttoned to show her cleavage, and her skirt is so short it barely covers her hips. She can't be more than five feet tall, if that. The smallest student you've ever seen.

A collar circles her throat—thick leather with a metal ring at the front, and attached to it is a sturdy hand grip, like a leash but built for lifting.

You tap Kirsty's head. "Stay."

She whimpers but obeys, keeping your cock wet in her mouth as you rise and cross the room. Mr Smith sees you approaching, a grin spreading across his face.

"Headmaster," he greets, extending a hand. "I was wondering how long it would take before you noticed my little treasure."

You shake his hand, eyes locked on the girl. She stands perfectly still, hands clasped in front of her, eyes downcast. Her chest rises and falls rapidly. Nervous. Good.

"I was wondering how long before this tiny cock tease got snatched up as a pet," you say, your voice low. "What does she bring to the event?"

Mr Smith's grin widens. He steps behind Channy, wrapping his hand around the grip attached to her collar. "I've turned her into a literal cock sleeve, Headmaster. Watch."

He lifts. Channy's body rises effortlessly, her feet dangling a few inches off the floor. She makes a small choking sound, her hands flying to her throat, but she doesn't struggle. Her eyes flutter, and a wetness blooms between her thighs.

"She's been given special training," Mr Smith explains, lowering her gently. "She cannot cum unless she's being choked. I recommend making her pass out—then impaling her on your cock like a fleshlight. Her cunt and ass are both tight, untouched, and ready."

You stroke your chin, studying the girl. Her knees tremble. A thin line of drool escapes her lips.

"I'll give both holes a go," you say, reaching out to grip the collar yourself. The leather is warm, the handle solid in your palm. "Right now."

You lift. Channy's eyes roll back, her body going slack as the pressure cuts off air. Her mouth opens, tongue lolling out. You guide her limp form toward the nearby couch, lowering her onto her back, her skirt riding up to reveal a bare, shaven cunt glistening with arousal.

You position yourself between her thighs, gripping her hips. Her head lolls to the side, still out cold.

You press the head of your cock against her entrance, slick and ready despite her unconscious state. She's so small, so tight—the resistance is exquisite.

You push forward, burying yourself inside her in one slow, deep thrust. Her body arches, a reflexive moan escaping her throat, even as her eyes remain closed.

You groan, savoring the heat, the impossible tightness of her virgin cunt.

This is going to be a very long night.