The teachers lounge

The teachers' lounge is paneled in dark wood, with worn leather sofas and a wide oak table now covered in papers, coffee cups, and a bottle of whiskey. The girls are led in—ten of them, the chosen pets. They stand in a nervous cluster while the men settle into chairs.

"On your knees," Coach Barlow barks. The girls drop, some more gracefully than others. Lily's plug shifts as she kneels, and she bites her lip.

"I'll start," Miss Harrington says, pulling her brunette pet onto her lap. The girl's skirt rides up, exposing the bare curve of her ass. "Today's history lesson. I had Lucy here under my desk. She sucked me off twice before the bell." She spreads her thighs, letting Lucy's mouth find her cunt through the soaked fabric. "Good girl. You earned your grade."

Mr. Vance gestures to his redhead. "Daisy here was my model. I had her on all fours on the front desk. Every boy in the class got to come up and finger her while I explained the cervix. She came six times. I counted." He turns Daisy around and bends her over the arm of the sofa, exposing her slick pussy. "Now she gets a reward."

Old Mr. Simmons is quieter. He has a tiny Asian girl, no older than 18, sitting on his lap. His hand is already up her skirt, two fingers buried in her, and she's whimpering into his shoulder. "This one's new. Tight as a fist. I'm going to stretch her open tonight in my room."

You take your seat, a high-backed chair at the head of the table. Lily crawls to you, eyes on the floor, and waits.

"Up here, pet." You pat your thigh. She rises, turns, and lowers herself onto your lap. The plug presses against your cock through your trousers. She gasps as you slide a hand under her skirt, fingers tracing the base of the plug.

"Good girl. Now—everyone ready for the wall of fame?"

A chorus of approval. Coach Barlow pulls out his phone, already aiming it at the redhead Daisy, who's now face-down on the sofa with Mr. Vance's cock pounding into her from behind. Her tits swing, her moans muffled by the leather.

"Score her," you say. "Start with uniform."

Coach zooms in on Daisy's wrinkled blouse, skirt hiked around her waist. "Seven out of ten. Could be neater, but the dishevelment adds character."

"Tits?" Miss Harrington asks while Lucy's mouth works faster between her thighs.

"Eight. Nice handful. Nipples are responsive." He snaps a close-up.

"Ass? Cunt?"

"Ass is a nine. Tight, round, perfect for spanking. Cunt—" He waits as Mr. Vance fucks harder, Daisy's pussy gripping and releasing. "She's got that nice sloppy sound. Good elasticity. Eight point five."

"Anal?" Coach Barlow signals another teacher to take over the photos. "She's not trained yet, but she took a finger up the ass today without flinching. Potential. Seven."

"Oral?" Miss Harrington has Lucy now turn to face the room, her mouth open, a string of cum on her lips. "She swallowed like a champ. Nine point five."

You look down at Lily. Her eyes are wide, watching the other girls being passed around, photographed, scored. She's trembling.

"Your turn, pet," you murmur, pulling the plug out slow. She yelps, then claps a hand over her mouth. "Open for inspection."

The teachers turn their attention to Lily as you lift her off your lap and bend her over the table. Her skirt flips up, revealing the empty red rim of her asshole, her pussy already glistening. You hear several zippers.

"Let's see how she scores across the board," you announce. "Teachers, feel free to... evaluate."

Mr. Simmons is first, moving behind her, his hard cock brushing against her wet folds. Lily tenses, but you hold her shoulders down.

"Nice uniform," Miss Harrington says from across the room, Lucy now on her knees beside her, still licking. "Eight. Clean, proper. Good posture."

Coach Barlow kneels behind Lily and spreads her ass cheeks wide, examining. "Ass is a solid nine. That plug kept her nice and open. Pussy—" He slides two fingers in, and Lily cries out. "Wet. Tight. Ten."

"Let's see those oral skills," you say, turning Lily around and guiding her to her knees in front of your chair. She looks up at you, tears in her eyes, but she opens her mouth.

The camera flashes as she takes you deep, her throat convulsing around your cock. Mr. Vance takes a video. "Oral technique: enthusiastic, but needs training on breathing. Seven point five."

The evening wears on. Girls are swapped between teachers like trading cards. Lucy ends up on Coach Barlow's lap, impaled on his thick cock, while Daisy is double-teamed by Mr. Vance and Miss Harrington—one at each end. Old Simmons has the tiny Asian girl bent over the pool table, her skirt around her neck, his balls slapping against her ass as he fucks her in a steady rhythm.

You keep Lily for yourself, pulling her onto your lap again, your cock still slick from her mouth. She's crying silently, but she's also grinding against you, her body betraying her training.

"Last scores for the wall of fame," you announce, holding your phone up to capture Lily's tear-streaked face, her swollen lips, the blush across her chest. "Overall performance tonight: Lily shows excellent potential. With proper conditioning, she'll be a top-tier ****."

The wall of fame will update tomorrow—each girl's portrait with her scores displayed beneath. Clients will browse the digital gallery and place orders for custom training based on stats.

For now, you gesture to the door. "Take your pets to your quarters. Training continues at dawn."

The girls are led away, limping or stumbling, some being carried. Lily stands, then hesitates, looking back at you.

You crook a finger. "Not you, pet. You're staying with me tonight."