Push your luck and be a bully bitch.

PTOOEY

The look on Reggie's face when your spit hits him is priceless. You've always hated the unflappable look of condescending calm he carried. Big and strong enough to be a linebacker, but content to coast on an academic scholarship and dominate all the dorks in chess. You heard rumors he made a habit of making chess champs his queens after checkmating them in a championship. He had bullied you for years, and the worst part was he was an even bigger nerd than you, but he was so comfortable in his own skin, that everyone loved him and his easy, affable smile. He's not smiling now. And he's certainly not calm. "Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

You turn and point to the back of your pretty pink letter jacket. It spells it all out...'Brad's Bitch'. The toughest kid in school owns your ass, along with every inch of your fragile flesh. If Reggie so much as bruises it, he'll have Hell to pay. You turn around and see him running the possible moves in his mind. None of them are worth the cost, and so he grits his teeth and says. "Sorry, Elliot. I didn't see you there. I can be so careless sometimes. I forget how huge I am." His tone is heavy with malice and menace, but it only makes his 'apology' sweeter to you.

You keep walking, not even bothering to give him a look back, and letting your hips sway slightly so he gets a little glimpse of what he is missing. The rush of power is more intoxicating than any **** you've ever taken and you feel almost as giddy as you did with a hard cock fucking the cum out of you. It's a feeling you don't want to end, so you roam the halls looking for your next target.

Jared and his band nerd boyfriends make an appealing appetizer until you find a bigger meal. You were one of the few kids they felt safe picking on before you're recent 'promotion'. Dwight doesn't seem to notice your new threads because he sneers, "Hey, fag, wanna play my skin flute?" His friends are already shushing him, but it's too late. You walk up to him with a sultry, swishy swagger and slap him as hard as you can across the face.

smack

It hurts your hand more than it probably hurts his face, but he gets the message. And when you turn to show him who's property he just propositioned he starts a simpering apology. Feeling reckless and randy, you pull your jeans down to show the top of your plump, pantied ass. You hiss, "Kiss it!" and you aren't the least bit surprised when he drops to his knees and plants a hungry kiss on your supple humps. You push his face between your cheeks to let him get a tortuous taste of what he can never get. Then you push him away and say, "Gross! I need to go wipe my ass to get this piece of shit off of it!"

A small crowd has gathered to watch the spectacle and for the first time they are cackling not at you, but at your would be bully. This...this is even better than getting fucked. This is better than any high. This is like walking on air, jizzing onto the crowd below, and watching them trying to catch your spurts like snowflakes on their outstretched tongues. You are hooked immediately...and you have to get more.

You spend the rest of the day picking fights and teasing bullies and betas alike with flashes of your supple skin and slutty lingerie and leaving them red faced and blue balled. It's the best day of your life, and you can't wait to get out of school and get stud fucked by your bully boyfriend. You slip onto his lap at lunch, hoping you can tempt him to feed you his cock before the next period. You feel his cock harden between your cheeks and feel his breath hot against your neck...