Preparation

He took me to the cafeteria where, after I got a tray of food, he showed me to the teachers' table.

• They want to make sure you don't cause any trouble for the students, but apparently their own doesn't bother them. Enjoy your meal, Teyla.

I went to the table where the other teachers were looking at me without any courtesy. I bowed, and the headmaster showed me to a seat.

A language teacher looked at me and asked, "Where am I from?"

• I'm French, teacher. I'm from Burgundy, a region in the east.
• That explains everything. So it's not just men who think about sex where you're from.

I blushed and nodded. If she only knew that people thought the Japanese had very strange customs, but then again, it was those customs that had drawn me to the Land of the Rising Sun.

The meal passed in absolute silence. Ms. Imamura gestured for me to follow her.

• Come, follow me. We're going to prepare for the next lesson on sexuality. I'd like to test you.

I swallowed hard, expecting anything. As we entered the classroom, she closed the door and pinned me against the wall. She placed her hand on my penis, inserted two fingers, and extracted a mixture of pre-ejaculate and semen, almost dry. She licked the mixture.

• Hmm, you've already been fucked, delicious. By whom? I asked, blushing with shame.
• The principal and Uzachi.

She nodded and began to undress me in such a way that I moaned. She knew how to arouse desire. Her nimble fingers slid the buttons of my blouse open, exposing my damp skin to the chill of the air conditioning. Each brush of her nails against my taut breasts forced me to arch my back, my hardened nipples betraying my growing arousal. She laughed, low and husky, as she expertly untied my skirt.

• You have beautiful red hair for a gaijin, and your body is an invitation to rape even for a woman like me. I quickly found myself naked, panting, desiring her too. She exuded such authority and predatory sensuality.

Madame Imamura pushed me against the painting, her burning lips closing on my neck as her fingers plunged deeper inside me, stirring the warm mixture of semen and my own lust. "You're already so open... so docile," she murmured between bites, her free hand moving up to pinch my nipples with cruel precision.

the professor warm breath against my ear, her fingers digging into me, drawing a hoarse moan from me. The blackboard slapped against my back with each stroke, its cold metal edge biting into my bare thighs. Her free hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat; her teeth brushed against my pulse, a silent threat.

I feverishly undressed her. She smiled. I wanted her to possess me so badly, I craved her body, her lips, her fingers inside me.

"Look at yourself," she purred, her voice husky with amusement. "You're dripping onto the floor like a common prostitute. Do French women always beg so easily?"

I could only moan in response, my hips contracting helplessly against her hand. She was so ruthless, now penetrating me almost completely with her hand. I felt as if I were about to be raped by another woman. It felt so good.

Madame Imamura elicited a hoarse cry from me as she brutally thrust her entire hand inside me, her knuckles crushing the walls of my already bruised sex. "You like that, little French girl?" she growled as her fingers curled inside, probing my hot flesh with surgical precision. My stomach clenched violently, wet spasms slapping around her fist—she laughed slyly as a spurt of fluid gushed onto her clasped fingers.

• You're a little bitch, vicious. You like being possessed, dominated by anything that considers itself your superior, don't you ?

I moaned, biting my lip before answering.

• Oh yes, that's good.

She was ruthless, plunging her fist inside me, while with her other hand she tortured my clitoris. It was insane; she seemed to know my deepest, most secret desires.

Madame Imamura's knuckles sank deeper, her wrist twisting as she spread my legs wider. My thighs trembled, my knees buckled under the brutal stretch. A moan escaped me as her thumb found my clitoris again, caressing it with sadistic precision as her fingers, already inside, tightened, mercilessly pressing the swollen, painful spot. "Pathetic," she hissed, her hot breath on my reddened skin. "Look how you're dripping for me, like an animal in heat."

The classroom door suddenly vibrated with a sharp bang. "Imamura-sensei?" a student's voice, muffled but impatient. "The principal wants the attendance sheets before the third period."

The young woman froze, stunned.

• Come here, you little silly girl, come lick me while I fuck this gaijin. It'll be practical work, she said. She spread her thighs to allow the student, who bowed, to kneel between her legs. His lips began to suck her clitoris while she mercilessly fucked me with her hand.

I felt Madame Imamura's nails dig into my hip as the student licked with obedient fervor, his tongue tracing rapid circles on the teacher's already swollen clitoris.

I moaned, I trembled, I begged her to grant me the pleasure she was now withholding, refusing to let me have the orgasm that remained frozen inside me, awaiting her pleasure.

Madame Imamura's fingers plunged deeper inside me, her knuckles crushing against that painful, swollen spot as my hips twisted helplessly against her wrist. The student's tongue moved faster between her thighs, a wet, obscene rhythm that took the teacher's breath away—her grip on my hip became ferocious, her nails tearing at my skin as she arched her back to take the girl's mouth in her own.

"Faster," she growled, and the student obeyed, greedily sucking on her sex as Imamura's fist violently penetrated me, her other hand pinching my clitoris with its nails, holding it there with rough, relentless movements.

I felt my stomach clench in a violent spasm, my throat tightening with a silent cry as her fingers relentlessly plowed into me. The student's saliva dripped onto Madame Imamura's thighs, mingling with the secretions that beaded between my own spread legs.

"Look at me," she ordered in a hoarse voice, her dilated pupils drowning her gaze in a calculating coldness.

I looked up at her, my eyes clouded with tears and desire, my lips parted in a hoarse gasp. Madame Imamura smiled cruelly, her fingers twisted inside me like vicious roots as the student continued to lick her sex with fierce submission.

• You want to come, don't you? she murmured, leaning her face toward mine, her warm, wet breath on my skin.
• Yes, yes, please, I can't take it anymore.

My voice was nothing but a hoarse breath, distorted by desire and submission. Madame Imamura dominated me with her gaze, her fingers still buried inside me, twisted like ravenous snakes.

• Listen to me carefully, you little bitch, she suddenly withdrew from me, leaving me frustrated. "Tonight, if you want pleasure from me, you'll come to my room and beg me."

I fell to the floor, in tears, completely frustrated. I so desperately wanted her to give me pleasure; I felt I would never find such a sexual experience. I saw her press the student's head against her vulva, when finally I saw spasms of pleasure seize her as she looked at me cruelly.

I remained sprawled on the floor, trembling, my thighs still spread and glistening with unfulfilled desire. The student's wet moans between Madame Imamura's legs sounded like cruel mockery. Madame Imamura had an orgasm that released a trickle of precum, which the student greedily swallowed with relish.

I was still panting, my fingers clenched on the cold floor, every inch of my body throbbing with an unbearable need. Madame Imamura slowly straightened up, casually wiping the damp glistening on her thighs before meticulously pulling her skirt down.

"Stand up, get dressed," she ordered, her voice low and drawn out like a blade against the back of my neck. I rose, trembling, my knees bruised by the tiles, my sticky thighs rubbing together with exquisite pain.