The Adult Story Hub

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Authors Note: This is the first in a trilogy of stories surrounding the humiliation and enslavement of a pretty young female teacher, Anthea Parfitt, by the girls supposedly under her care. You can read each part of the trilogy in any order that you wish, but it makes more sense to read in the order in which they were written.

Ms. Hempleman was in her late forties to early fifties. She looked exactly as the head and proprietor of an exclusive girl’s school should look, with greying hair swept back off her pinched face, Harris tweed jacket and skirt and a good plain blouse beneath.
I had applied for the post at the Red Sands School for Girls and much to my surprise found myself seated before Ms. Hempleman and a middle aged man I discovered was Conrad Whyle, chief benefactor to the school.
Ms. Hempleman cleared her throat daintily. “Tell me Miss Parfitt, why the Hempleman?”
It was a simple question and one that I had an answer already prepared, much to my surprise and pleasure the answer tripped off my tongue as I’d rehearsed it. I was well into my explanation.
“You are only twenty three.” Interrupted Whyle. “That’s only a littler older that the final year.”
I hesitated. It was another question I had prepared for; still, it was rude to interrupt a candidate.
“Mr. Whyle’s daughter Miranda is in the final year. She is also our head girl.” Broke in Ms. Hempleman.
“Quite.” Continued Whyle with a sideward glance towards her. He obviously didn’t like being interrupted. I wondered if Miranda was head girl on merit or because of daddy’s money. “As I was saying, you are only twenty three, don’t you think that a little bit young for this post. Miranda will be nineteen before she leave’s the Hempleman. It would make you a little more than four years her senior. Is that a big enough gap to establish a degree of control and supervision?”
I gave the answer I had prepared. “I think the small age difference is an advantage. I believe I’ll understand the problems that girls of Miranda age experience.” I left it there, before I offended Ms Hempleman. As things turned out I couldn’t have been more wrong.
There was more chat. The truth was I was ideally qualified if inexperienced for the post. It was just going to be a matter of if my face fitted. It did. After a thirty-minute wait in the staff room I was summoned back into Ms. Hempleman’s inner sanctum. Whyle had left; presumably he found the salary haggling not to his taste.
The deal was simple. I would be rather well paid to be the junior housemistress of Nightingale House, which meant sleeping in, looking after the younger girls and finally sacrificing my Easter break.
Ms. Hempleman explained. “Most of the girls travel home for Easter and this year Ms. Court is taking all the junior girls on a week long camp. I think that will only leave Miranda Whyle and Tabatha Brunel out of Nightingale. They are both in the senior dorm, so won’t need any supervision, but we do need to have an adult in the House. Safety and things like that. As the junior mistress, the task will fall to you.”
It was fine. Red Sands was offering more than double my last interview panel had. If it meant losing out on a few days break then so what! A few terms at Red Sands and I could choose where I worked and almost when. I was young enough to pass a couple of years in this isolation
I accepted and five days later joined the small and as I discovered quite elderly staff of Red Sands. Ms. Court was the next youngest mistress and she was nearly forty.
As part of my induction I met both the Head Girl and also the Nightingales Senior girl. I knew that Miranda was the Head Girl but was surprised that Tabatha was the Nightingales Senior girl. As we were all part of the same house we met in my rooms. This was a rather grand description for a bedroom, study cum lounge and bathroom. A posh bed-sit was a better description. Still it was rent-free, as was the food, which made my salary seem even more attractive. I was starting to think I’d really landed upon my feet.
Miranda and Tabatha, by dint of their seniority, no longer wore school uniforms. They both dressed casually in jeans and t-shirts. Miranda was the taller, a dark haired beauty with lustrous green eyes and a wide mouth. Tabatha was slighter, a blonde with icy blue eyes that seemed to be always staring at you.
Both girls played sport and I was genuinely envious of the hard sheen they had to their bodies.
We chatted. There was nothing sinister or difficult on the agenda. I wanted to learn about the school and these two seemed as good a starting point as any of my fellow teachers. They were also much nearer to my own age and I felt, if not kinship, at least common ground with them.
It soon became obvious that Miranda was the leader and that Tabatha was some kind of follower. Until this meeting I hadn’t linked them together but now I realised that they were friends, close friends. I wondered how close was close. I’d already realised that in the all girl environment of the school and in the Houses, a certain sexual atmosphere existed. I just hadn’t expected it to be quite so obvious. Their body language, little sideward glances towards each other. It all spoke of a deep understanding and intimacy between the two girls. It made me feel uncomfortable. I was no prude and if two women wanted each other’s company more than a man’s, then that was their business. I just didn’t like it pushed into my face, so to speak.
“When dad said someone as young as you was favourite for the job no one believed it.” Miranda began. “I mean the rest are all old prunes.” In a sentence she dismissed the rest of the teaching staff. It was a sentiment I shared but I couldn’t let it pass.
“I think that’s unfair.” I replied non-committally.
Miranda pulled a face. “Stop here too long and you’ll be the same.” She continued. “I mean Miss, you are pretty!”
“Easter!” I wanted to change the subject. As soon as Miranda had started on about my looks both girls had seemed to tense. I felt my cheeks colour. I was all too aware of the possibility of schoolgirl crushes.
“Good time!” Smirked Tabatha. “Ms. Hempleman and the rest will be off site. You’ll be able to smuggle a man or two in.”
More dangerous ground: I could suddenly see what Miranda’s father had been on about. It helped that I was between boyfriends but I still liked to fuck. It was still hardly a subject I could discuss with Miranda and Tabatha. In another existence they might just have been younger, but still eligible friends.
“I don’t think so.” I said as coolly as I could manage. “I think we should all adhere to a no men rule.”
“Why is that Miss?” Smiled Miranda. “Are you a lesbian?”
“Certainly not.” I spluttered, shocked and disgusted at the suggestion.
“Pity!” Miranda pursed her lips. “We might have had some fun, keep it in the House, so to speak.” She laughed.
I was blushing and starting to perspire. “I think that’s all. Thank you girls.” I stood up to dismiss them. “Thank you girls.” I repeated.
“That’s okay Miss. Another time, maybe?” Miranda first and then Tabatha rose to their feet. I was painfully aware that Miranda was both taller and heavier that I whilst Tabatha was probably the same build and weight as myself. Miranda was so close that we could have touched. “Bye!”
They left and left me trembling. What had I been offered, lesbian sex with two eighteen year olds? Were they joking? Was this just a wind up, to test out a new teacher? I hoped and prayed that it was.
The two weeks to Easter passed. I was witness to the frenzy of girls; the school had over one hundred pupils, being collected by parents, nannies, even the odd bodyguard. Then Ms. Court took the dozen or so younger girls off to the camp. I discovered only then that apart from myself only Miranda and Tabatha were still in the school. I admit to suffering a slight qualm at the realisation, not because of the implied lesbian threat, but I had assumed that more of the one hundred and twenty plus staff and pupils would still be in the school. There was of course the caretaker, but he was left to secure the grounds.
Still I resolved to make the most of the Easter break. It would last for ten days before Ms. Court and her campers returned. It was a chance to relax. I spent the first day writing letters. Red Sands was set in the wilds, great countryside, but not much happening. It was to far away from my family and friends for them or myself to visit, so telephone and letters were the only way of communication. Red Sands wasn’t yet computerised, so such obvious things as the Internet and Email were impossible. I drove into the nearest village, posted my letters and was on the way back when I spotted Miranda and Tabatha.
I slowed down, partly to offer them a lift and also because I had no idea that they weren’t in the school. I wanted to know where they had been. I hadn’t exactly been watching my charges and seeing them reminded me of my duties. The two girls piled in and I immediately smelt the booze on their breath. It was only mid afternoon and they were already drinking.
As if in answer to my unasked question, Miranda laughed softly and said. “You said nothing about drinking, just no booze in school, and we are overage.”
“Very cute!” I answered. I was annoyed that they’d ignored my instructions, but even angry that they had so easily found a way around them.
“You are Miss, we both think that.” Miranda giggled.
I should have seen what was coming. I shouldn’t have stopped to give them a lift. After all anything that happened was my word against theirs and I knew whom Ms Hempleman would believe and it wasn’t me.
“Don’t be silly.” I tried. If I’d have been fifteen years older then it might have sounded right. As I was more like their elder sister it didn’t sound right nor did it work.
“Nothing silly in this.” Murmured Miranda and placed her hand on my knee.
I nearer crashed the car in shock. I was wearing a loose cotton dress and Miranda pushed her hand further up my thigh. I fought her off. “Don’t be so stupid!” I snapped. I turned the car into the school drive. For once the sight of the school caretaker was a pleasant one.
The atmosphere in the car changed from lighthearted banter into something approaching anger. “The next time!” Swore Miranda as she and Tabatha climbed from the vehicle.
I resisted any further comments. It wasn’t professional for a teacher and pupil to have a slagging match, no matter what the cause. It did leave the tricky problem of how to cope with Miranda’s fantasies and I had to assume, Tabatha’s. As I had no solution I took the cowards option and kept out of their way over the next couple of days. As a solution it couldn’t last.
On the third day they found me.
“There you are!”
I had been lost in a book and hadn’t heard them approach. Suddenly they were there, either side of me. We were in the school library. The soundproofing had muffled their approach. Now I was rattled and felt trapped.
“You’ve been avoiding us!” Miranda said nastily.
“’Course not!” I protested.
“’Course you were!” Miranda mimicked. She had her hands on the back of my chair and was rocking it back and forth off its two leading legs.
“Careful!” I snapped, grabbing for the desk as support. As I reached for the edge Miranda gave one huge tug and I was tipping backwards. I landed with a crash, banging my head against the carpeted floor. Simply the fact the carpet was so thick probably prevented me from being stunned. I was shocked and the breath had been knocked out of me.
I was still recovering my composure when both girls fell upon me. I can’t describe it any other way. One moment I was happily reading and the next I was struggling beneath the combined weight and strength of two health and angry teenagers. It wasn’t an even contest. In a matter of seconds I was pinned beneath the two of them. Miranda was sitting on my stomach, her hands pressing down on mine. Tabatha was sitting across my thighs. I tried to wriggle, twist, to throw them off me. I couldn’t. An one hundred and ten pound woman can’t dislodge two others.
“Alright girls, let me up. A joke is joke, but let me up!” I gasped.
“What joke.” Laughed Miranda. She slid further up my body, until her knee’s pinned my shoulders. She had my hands pinned above my head. Try as I might I could get no leverage. “You should have accepted our offer, now we’ll have to take what we want.”
I felt an icy chill run into my stomach. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” Mimicked Tabatha. “Tell her, tell the snooty bitch!” She urged Miranda.
As if in answer Miranda smirked. “We wanted you to join our little game, but you turned us down. You should have yes, now we’ll have to persuade you.”
“What? Just let me up! I won’t say anything. I’ll treat this as a harmless prank.” I struggled again. It was useless. I’d only get up when they let me. I gave up struggling.
“Do that again and you’ll get a smack.” Miranda threatened.
I still didn’t believe her but I had stopped fighting. It was useless. I couldn’t shift the two of them.
Miranda obviously misinterpreted my actions. I felt her relax. “Better, much better. Now all you have to do is lick our pussies and we’ll call it quits.”
I was speechless. I just stared open mouthed into Miranda’s face. “No way.” I gasped at last. “No chance.”
The look on Miranda’s face was one of pure delight. She even let out a triumphant whoop. “I knew you’d say that.” Gloated Miranda. “It just means we’ll have even more fun before you eat my cunt.”
“No way!” I repeated.
Miranda wasn’t listening. She inched a little further forwards, resting her arse upon my chest, her knees were level with my head, and her thighs tunnelled my vision towards her crotch. Miranda was wearing a short skirt and I had a perfect view of her pants.
“Yes you will.” Miranda retorted. “When we have finished with you, you’ll think that licking our cunts is a pleasure and you’ll be doing anything and everything we say.” She sounded so confident. It was chilling.
“No!” I whispered. I was now very frightened. I realised that I was alone in the House with two nasty, dominant girls. There was no one to overhear us, no one to rescue me. They had days and days to break me.
“First I’ll sit on your face. I’ll keep doing it until you pass out or until you agree. If you pass out then we’ll start again, and again, and again. It won’t matter how often you faint. I won’t get tired of this game, but you will.” Miranda announced. “I get a real charge out of this. I really want to you to fight me, it makes the moment when you give in all the sweeter.”
“No!” I pleaded. “Just let me get up, please!” I was almost begging. I was starting to panic. The threats sounded so real. I didn’t doubt for one minute that Miranda meant them.
“No chance. If we like you, then we’ll make you into the head girl’s slave, that’s quite an honour. It usually goes to one of the girls, but I think you’ll be perfect, and I have never fucked a teacher.” She slid across my face, her crotch hovering a bare inch from my mouth. I could smell her very clear arousal. She was getting off on what she was doing.
“Plea….” I began but Miranda stuffed out my pleadings. She sank down onto my face, covering my mouth and nose with her crotch. I tried to breath but could only draw in the faintest gasp of air, saturated in the heavy, stinky smell of her sex.
“Well?” She demanded. I could just see her cold, cruel smile and those unblinking deep green eyes. “No?” I couldn’t reply. I was trapped beneath her and Tabatha, my mouth gagged by the most disgusting gag in history. Slowly she began to rub herself across my face, grinding her crotch down hard against me. It made breathing impossible and struggle, as much as I did, I was truly helpless. I could only lie there, sucking in the penny packets of air that Miranda’s movements accidentally allowed me.
Miranda really began to rub her mound in my face as she settled into a smooth rhythm, using my nose to get to herself off. It was like she had no thought for my safety as she sat there atop me, using me. Soon I could feel her wetness soaking through the crotch of her pants. I’d have gagged if she had given me the chance.
"Take a breath, that's all you'll get." She told me, lifting her up for the briefest moment, I gasped in the almost fresh air, almost grateful to her, before she sat back down on my face.
She continued like that for a while, masturbating on my face until I almost passed out, and then letting me catch a breath before continuing. I was getting weaker and weaker from the lack of oxygen as she all the while kept rubbing herself into my face.
I was almost asphyxiated, each breath was shorter, the time between each breath grew longer, and finally I felt my consciousness begin to slip away. Once, just once, Miranda pulled me back from the brink of unconsciousness. “We’ll play this game again.” She whispered and then sank down onto my abused face, staying there until my consciousness finally did flee.
I don’t know to this day how long I was unconscious. When I did finally recover I was no longer in the library. I was in a bedroom; least ways I thought it was a bedroom. I was lying on the floor, a thin carpet little protection from the hard wooden floor which lay beneath me. I tried to rise but I felt so weak that I could barely raise my head, then I realised that my hands were tied. Wearily I raised my arms to study the strong, seemingly unbreakable knot. I needed to rise, as I moved my feet I realised that they to were bound. I struggled to raise myself and it was only then that I realised that not only was I bound but also naked. I groaned softly and sank back onto the floor. I needed to think, but first I needed to recover my senses and strength before Miranda and Tabatha returned.
I never had the chance. Almost immediately the door swung open and my twin tormentors appeared. Instinctively I tried to wriggle away from them though in truth I had nowhere to go and no chance of escaping them.
Tabatha caught me, pushing my shoulders back against the carpet and straddling me just as Miranda had done. She wasted no time in sinking her knickered crotch onto my face. She said nothing, simply drove herself mound hard into my face, smearing herself across me, relentlessly and mercilessly riding my helpless features as she sought her personal climax. I could do nothing to prevent Tabatha using me as a living dildo.
Tabatha came. I felt her climax. I felt the tightening of her limbs, and then the final uncoordinated jerks as her climax deprived her of self-control. I felt her climax juices soaking through her already damp crotch. She collapsed without ever freeing my from my stinking, heavy, air denying imprisonment. I was close to suffocation before she rolled away, leaving me gasping for air.
Miranda was sitting on the bed. I didn’t notice her at first. I was just glad that I no longer had Tabatha’s sweaty crotch across my face. I pulled in a great lungful of air.
“Ready yet?” Miranda slid of the bed and stood over me. I cringed. I could guess what was coming. I couldn’t answer. I desperately didn’t want her across my face, the lack of air, the almost certainty that she would bring herself off on me. I didn’t want any of that but the prospect of even kissing another woman’s sex almost made me vomit. “I thought not.” She dropped to her knee’s, stroking my short damp hair. She was kneeling behind me and I had to twist to look her in the face. “It’s only a matter of time. So why not get it over with. The first time is always the worst. After a few time’s you’ll think that sucking my twat is the natural order.” She moved forwards. I stared up into her damp, stained crotch. “People say that my ass is my best feature.” Miranda laughed. She sat down hard, engulfing my mouth and nose, the latter was rammed up her arse, and only her knickers prevented it touching her anus.
She started to ride me, slowly, always knowing how long she could keep me without air. Then just when I thought I’d pass out again she’d stop, allow me a mouthful of air. It was a torture, a slow, deliberate torture designed to drive me to the edge of desperation, designed to break my will.
As she rode and tortured me I realised that she was frigging herself. I just wanted her to come; I desperately wanted her to climax. It was the only escape route I had. I prayed as much as my mangled senses would allow. I wanted this all to finish, for me to wake up in my clean solitary bed and find that this was just a strange, perverted nightmare. The alternative was to chilling to contemplate.
Miranda came, just like Tabatha had before her, Miranda ground her sex soaked crotch, driving the last breath from my tortured lungs. She didn’t release me. I saw stars again and once more I slipped into unconsciousness beneath Miranda totally merciless arse.
When I came to it was as if nothing had ever happened. I was sitting at my table in the library. I was dressed, the room was tidy and there was no sign of either Miranda or Tabatha. At first I thought that I must have fallen asleep, but I ached both in my body and head. I felt sick, not nauseous, but sick with embarrassment. I felt weak; I knew that I was weak. I remembered in brief flashbacks what had happened. The chair, the, the face sitting? Where had I heard that? Had I really been naked in a girl’s bedroom, had they really used me like some lump of meat? I found myself rubbing my wrists; the mark of the bonds was still there, an angry, red ring that no amount of rubbing could remove. It had seemed so real!
I was just ready to convince myself that it really was a dream when the door to the library swung open and my two tormentors marched in. I was still as weak as the proverbial kitten and could never have outrun them.
“I thought we’d start again.” Miranda began. She stopped a metre from me, her hands resting on her hips. Miranda looked superb, confident and utterly, utterly in control. Tabatha stood a little ways off, a smirking grin across her features. She was here to watch. “Get down on your knee’s.” Miranda pointed to a spot at her feet.
I felt my mouth dry and my stomach churn. I knew now what she was doing. She had brought me back here, to the library, where it had all started. It was all mind games. If I didn’t obey then it would all start again. Slowly I got to my feet, my legs were trembling, both with fear and the oxygen deprivation that they had taken me through. They both watched me, waiting to see which way I jumped. Would I continue to resist, even if the outcome was inevitable? It was simply a case of how much more torture I could take. I sank to my knee’s, head bowed, not just in submission but because I couldn’t look Miranda in the face.
“Look at me!” She insisted. I tried. I really tried but I wasn’t fast enough. “Get her down.” Miranda ordered Tabatha. Before I could react I was being pulled backwards and Tabatha was already astride my face. I just had time for one last gasp of air before her arse descended onto my face. This time Tabatha made no attempt to bring herself off, her mission was a simple one. She would ground her arse and cunt into my face until I submitted or passed out. “You really are a stupid cunt.” Gloated Miranda. “I have dreamed of fucking your face and now I have, next you’re going to suck on my cunt, so why fight me. Just give in. it’s that easy.” She was kneeling besides me. I couldn’t turn my head, imprisoned as it was between Tabatha’s legs and pinned beneath her arse. I swivelled my eyes to look into Miranda cool, smug face. She was so sure of her, so sure of the eventual outcome. Miranda took my hand. I was a weak as a baby. “When you want to suck our cunts just squeeze my hand.”