The Adult Story Hub

It was the last full day of term. I already had my instructions from Tabatha for the summer. I was allowed one week with my family before I reported to her at her families’ holiday cottage. I was supposed to be teaching Tabatha the final stages of her maths course, but that was just the excuse. I also knew that before school finished I would be handed over to the new head girl. Just like Miranda had handed me onto Tabatha so Tabatha would hand me onto my next mistress.
On that last day Abigail found me with a message. “The senior girls want you in their common room.” It wasn’t a request and Abigail didn’t deliver it as one. I wondered how much she already knew about my position. Abigail was Miranda’s younger sister. In a years time she would be in the senior year and I guessed would also be the head girl. So in a year’s time I would be serving her. It made no sense to be difficult. She would have the opportunity to extract her revenge.
I found my Mistress with Rebecca, Tabatha’s deputy. Tabatha had lent me to Rebecca time and again. It was one of the differences between Miranda and Tabatha. Whilst Miranda had only loaned me to Tabatha, so Tabatha had loaned me out to a half dozen other girls.
There were three other girls, all for the year below Tabatha. I guessed that one of these must he the Head Girl designate. Rona, a slightly built red head: Fiona, another blonde and Helen, an Asian girl whose parents had fled Hong Kong when the Chinese had taken over.
“You took your time.” Tabatha snapped.
“I came as soon as I could.” I flustered. I was surprised at Tabatha’s tone. It was her Mistress voice, yet there were strangers here.
“What am I? "She demanded.
“The Head Girl.” I answered, trying to stick to the official roles that we both performed.
“What else, SLUT!” Tabatha demanded.
I honestly panicked. I knew where this was leading. It brought me out in a cold sweat. “Please!” I whispered in desperation. I glanced towards the couch where the other girls were sitting.
Tabatha got to her feet. At the same time I saw that Rebecca was circling behind me. I heard the key click in the lock and then felt her take my arms and pull them behind my back.
Tabatha came and stood before me, slowly she began to unbutton my blouse. I tried to resist but Rebecca had hold of my wrists. In truth she didn’t need any great strength. I was to conditioned to offer any real resistance. She was so close that I could smell the booze on her breath.
There was a hush in the room. The other girls, those not in on my slavery, sat in wrapped amazement as Tabatha with Rebecca’s assistance stripped me down to my pants.
“Now! Get down on your knees.” Tabatha commanded and I silently obeyed. “Better, look at me.” Tabatha demanded.
I stared up into the merciless face of my mistress.
“What am I?” she demanded to know.
“You’re my Mistress.” I said as clearly as I could muster. I was barely conscious of the silence, which had fallen across the room. I tried to focus my attention upon Tabatha, she was my Mistress and I knew that a happy Mistress was far, far better than an angry one.
“So what are you?”
“A cunt licker.” I answered. I blushed furiously, not through what I had said. Tabatha had forced me to say or do much worst, but I was saying it in company. I heard a soft laugh coming from the direction of the other girls. I didn’t dare look. I had my orders and I knew the consequences of disobeying them.
Tabatha lifted her short skirt and pulled down her panties to her knees. “Take them off! She demanded and I hurried to obey. “Now sniff them!” she ordered.
It was the familiar routine. Tabatha liked me to sniff at her knickers. I think that she enjoyed the sight of me with my nose buried in her panties.
“What do they smell off?" She demanded to know.
“You Mistress, they smell of you.” I answered, pulling in another sniff.
“Do you like that smell?” She asked.
“Yes Mistress.” It wasn’t quite a lie. I had become immune to the smell and taste of another woman. Miranda had been right when she had said that licking her cunt would seem to be the natural state of things. I had transferred that to Tabatha and now I realised I was about to transfer to another Mistress. I just didn’t know which one.
“Come here.” She had her skirt raised and her clean pink sex glistened in my direction. I crawled over and placed my lips softly against her cunt. I could smell and taste her, that familiar smell and taste of my mistress. I looked up into her face, seeing that smirking, smile of triumph, knowing deep down how I was humiliating myself and not being able to help myself. Tabatha glanced across towards her audience. “I told you so.” She laughed triumphantly. “You want to suck my cunt, don’t you?” She asked me.
“Yes Mistress.” I mumbled against the warm, spiky flesh of her sex.
“Good.” She left me and sat down amongst her audience. She opened her legs wide and gestured. I knew my place, on my hands and knee’s I crawled between her legs and sank my mouth and tongue into the slinky folds of her cunt. I felt her relax. It was a good sign. I didn’t think about the girls surrounding us. I started to tongue fuck her, willing her to a climax.
Afterwards Tabatha left me naked on the carpet whilst she dressed again. I had made her climax. I had done that a thousand times, so often that I knew how to bring her off. I knew if she wanted a fast fuck or a slow one. Tabatha was disdainful. “Why don’t you sample her talents? She likes an arse in her face – don’t you cunt licker?”
“Yes Mistress.” I could still feel the remains of Tabatha’s climax drying onto my face. I knew what was coming. Tabatha stood up and gestured to me. Slowly I lay back, raising my hands above my head whilst Tabatha turned towards my feet as she straddled me. I stared up her skirt and she lowered herself onto my face. I had time for one last deep breath before Tabatha blocked both my mouth and nose with her arse and cunt.
Tabatha mashed down hard, oblivious of my need for air. She kept me like that, pinned beneath her until I started to fight for breath. She moved enough for me to gasp a lungful of air before sinking back onto me.
“Won’t she suffocate?” Someone asked.
“If I sat here long enough, yes.” I heard Tabatha answer. “We take her under sometimes.”
“What’s under?” Another of the audience asked.
“We suffocate her until she passes out.” She sounded so sure and confident of herself, but then she had cause to be. I had been her property for a whole year. It was coming to an end but I was so conditioned that she could take me again and again and I would be unable to resist.
“What else?” The fascination the questioners voice was obvious.
“What else?” Tabatha raised herself off me just long enough for me to snatch another lungful of air. “Well, she sucks cunt. She’ll tongue your arse if you want: tit sucking and licking: what ever turns you on. Tell her and she’ll do It.” Idly Tabatha glanced back at me. “She really is very obedient.” She sat down again. “You mustn’t think of her as a person, she is just like furniture, treat her like a chair that can bring you off. If you need to fart.” She paused long enough to fart. “Just fart. You could piss in her mouth if you wanted to.” She sat back down so that I got the fully benefit if her stinky little fart.
“She doesn’t mind!” Exclaimed someone.
“She has no choice in the matter.” Tabatha answered disdainfully. “She is the head girls personal cunt sucker, that’s how it is.”
Tabatha wriggled across my face, farting noisily as she did. She seemed to be able to fart at will. I didn’t care anymore. It was just part of her domination of me. “Now who is first? Knickers on or off. I suggest you keep them on till you get used to the sensation. The first time her nose is up your arse can feel strange.” Tabatha got to her feet. “Well?”
I couldn’t help but look towards my audience. They were all uncertain.
“What about you Rona?” Tabatha asked.
“Later. I want to see someone else do it first?” Rona replied.
“What about you then?” Tabatha turned towards Fiona.
Fiona shook her head. “I think that I’ll just watch.”
I entertained the brief hope that they would all refuse and that I might escape with the humiliation I had already suffered, but without suffering any further indignation.
Helen stood up, there was an evil, satisfied look on her face and I knew that I had been wrong to hope for any escape or relief. “I’ll go first.” She announced.
She came and straddled me. I tried not to look into her face but she made me. As she pinned my head between her thin thighs she demanded that I look at her. I was to conditioned not to obey.
Helen had a long, sallow face, high cheekbones and dark, dark eyes.
“I am next years Head Girl.” She smirked. “Do you know what that means?”
“Yes…Mistress.” I answered.
“Are you going to lick my cunt?” she asked.
“Yes Mistress.” I answered, not thinking for once that Helen wasn’t my Mistress.
Helen turned towards Tabatha. “I’d like to take her somewhere private. I don’t want our first meeting to be so public.”
“Use her room.” Tabatha suggested. She was obviously disappointed that she wasn’t going to witness my initiation.
“I’ll call you in later.” Helen answered.
“Do that.” Tabatha answered with obvious bad grace.
Deprived of their entertainment the other’s quickly left before Helen let me up.
“Get dressed.” She ordered. “I have no desire to see you puny English tits.” She stood up. “Quickly now.” She demanded.
“I have never had a slave before.” Helen was lounging on my bed. She had made no effort to christen my face and tongue. “But in HK we did have servants, and they would do anything to please me. I mean anything.” She smiled and I shivered. Helen was going to be as merciless and dominating as Tabatha.
I was kneeling on the floor, at the bottom of the bed, looking at my new Mistress. I wasn’t required to speak. I knew all to well that the role of a slave didn’t include holding a conversation with your Mistress. You just did as you were told.
Helen swung her legs off the bed and slowly stood up. She was a short and slight girl; a good fifteen pounds lighter than either of my previous Mistresses.
“In HK we had a wonderful lifestyle.” Helen began. “Houses, boats, car’s, willing servants. The family was something. We were important. Then the British handed HK over to the Chinese. Oh! My father saw what was coming and we’d shipped most of our money out to Australia and then we relocated. We had cash and no government likes to reject really wealthy immigrants. We just have no status. They see us as rich but not important!” She sounded angry. “If the British had stood by us, then even now we’d be in HK, but they didn’t. I couldn’t stop in a school I’d attended since I was five. I lost all my friends and then I found myself here. In a school filled by shitty English girls and taught by shitty English teachers.” She came and stood besides me. “Get on the bed.” She suddenly commanded me. I scrambled to obey. “I thought it would be hell, but now I’ll have my very own little shitty English slave.” She grinned. “Won’t I?”
“Yes Mistress.” I answered, my throat suddenly dry and constricted.
“What are you? I want to hear it from your own pathetic little mouth.” She had sat on my chest by now.
“A shitty English cunt licker.” I answered.
“Very good. Now what did Tabatha say. You’ll do anything I ask?”
“Yes Mistress.”
“Wipe my arse?”
“Yes Mistress.”
“See to my periods?”
“Yes Mistress.”
Helen broke out into a smile. “I begin to see how well you have been trained.” She slid forwards until my chin was below the hem of her skirt. “The Chinese are superior to the English. I am superior to you. Say it!”
“The Chinese are superior to the English. You are my superior in every way.” I almost chanted it. Miranda and Tabatha had made me say similar things. It meant nothing. I was so broken and trained that Helen didn’t need to reinforce her superiority. I accepted it as an absolute.
Helen hauled her skirt up to her waist and then moved forwards across my face. I stared up into the stained and obviously damp crotch to her white panties. I could smell her. She had a heavy scent when aroused, heavier than either Miranda or Tabatha.
I knew what was coming, with Tabatha; she had been too experienced to waste time wearing her pants when she smothered me. Helen wasn’t so sure of herself, so she’d start off by wearing her pants. It meant that the moment when I tasted her was delayed and also that I would be smothered for longer and more completely.
It is impossible to describe the horror of being smothered. No matter how often you have been smothered there comes that moment in each smothering when panic sets in. I knew Tabatha and almost trusted her, but Helen was someone new. I had no idea what to expect, even if she would understand just how long I could go without air.
I was about to find out. Helen sat down on my face. I could still see her face, our eyes met. If I could have pleaded with my eyes I would have done so. It would have made no difference. Helen settled. I felt her weight shift as she spread herself across my mouth and nose.
“I dreamt of this moment!” She laughed, wriggling further down my face. “I have dreamt of having a shitty English face up my ass. Oh! I cannot tell you how much it hurt to know what Tabatha was doing to you. I wanted it to be me. This afternoon when she farted into your face, that should have been my fart you sniffed, it should have been my cunt you licked out. I couldn’t wait, and now I don’t have to.” She was sliding across my face, just hard enough to enjoy it, leaving me to snatch hurried breaths as her arse and crotch left my face.
I lay there, the complaint slave whilst Helen slowly, ever so slowly, brought herself top a climax. Again she didn’t have Tabatha’s skill but that would come. She would learn how to use me to please her. It was simply time and practise that she needed, and I knew that she had plenty of the former and a determination towards the latter.
When she eventually came it was almost a contradiction. I was used to Tabatha’s powerful climaxes. Helen’s were gentle in comparison. I barely knew she’d come until she collapsed against me and ever so slowly her come juices began seeping through her crotch.
“That was nice.” Helen purred. “Not good but nice.” She slid back off my face. “Well shitty! Are you ready to please me?” She gasped.
“Yes Mistress.” I answered. I could still smell her; still feel the weight of her buttocks across my face.
“Later.” Helen climbed off me. She strutted around my room after ordering me to remain as I was. She explored my wardrobe, throwing my underwear onto the floor. “Take your pants off.” She demanded, pointing at me.
I did so.
“Open your legs, wide.”
I did so. I felt no embarrassment. After what I had endured over the past two years there was no place for embarrassment.
Helen came and sat between my open legs. Miranda had made me shave and I had kept up the habit. So my cunt was pink and all flesh with only the briefest of pubic stubble. Helen touched me. I almost went into orbit; it had been so long since anyone had touched me. I hadn’t been held, kissed, loved in what seemed a lifetime.
“Was that nice, shitty cunt?” She smirked. It was already apparent that Helen would not be a kind Mistress.
“Yes Mistress.” I gasped, trying to recover my breath.
Helen started to finger fuck me. It had been so long. I flooded across her fingers. She had my arse bouncing against the carpet and then just when I was about to climax … she stopped.
“Enjoy that?” She gloated. She didn’t wait to answer. She stoked my cunt lips, drawing more of my juice from me. “When did you last get shagged, shitty? When did you have a nice hard cock inside you?”
“I can’t remember, Mistress.” I answered truthfully. I hadn’t been with a man since I’d started at the school. Miranda and Tabatha had placed restrictions on me as they had asserted their total dominance of my life. I had not been allowed to finger myself or use anything that might have relieved my sexual frustration. It had hurt all the more to realise that as I made one of them come that I was denied that simple pleasure for myself.
She stopped just as my climax was building. She left my hips jerking, seeking the solace of her stiff, thin fingers.
“Control yourself.” She snapped and I did my best. It wasn’t easy. I was remembering the hot stabbing surges of pleasure, sensations that I had more or less forgotten.
Helen continued to prowl my meagre rooms, investigating my life. I had never been one for strong friendships or family ties and the past year had weakened those that did exist to almost breaking point. Still she read my letters and I did nothing to stop her.
“Who is Catherine?” she asked.
“Mistress, Catherine is my elder sister.” I answered. I hadn’t seen Cat for over two years.
“She says you should visit more often. What do you tell her?”
“Nothing Mistress.”
“Keep it that way, better still, make excuses. I don’t want you seeing anyone whilst you are my slave. Understand?” She came and stood over me, so that I had to stare up into her face and she could look down into mine.
“Yes Mistress.” I answered meekly.
“Tabatha says that I should start out by smothering you, that I need to take you under to understand just how much power I have over you.” As she spoke Helen sat down on my chest. “After that I can really understand how utterly beneath me you are.” She inched forwards. “Look into my face.” She demanded and I did so. “Are you scared shitty?” She asked.
I had to be honest.
“Yes Mistress.”
“Why?”
She knew why! The bitch was just trying to make me squirm.
“It’s dangerous Mistress.” I answered.
“Why?”
She had slid so far forwards that her crotch was covering my chin. I could smell her, the heavy, almost perfumed stink of her cunt.
“I could die, if you didn’t release me.” I whispered.
“All down to me then. I mean if I didn’t want to get off your face, what can you do? You, a shitty little cunt licker? I should just smother you, get your worthless little life over.” She was over my mouth now, with my nose pressed against the damp fabric of her panty crotch. I could still breath, but one inch further…”So you had better hope that I decide to keep you.” She moved that inch, suffocating me beneath her.
Knowing what she intended didn’t make things any easier to cope with. I have said that being smothered is frightening; it is more frightening when you understand the enormity of the threat. If Helen chose she could have killed me.
Smothering isn’t something that happens in a matter of moments. The pressure builds with each minute you are pinned. A really cruel Mistress can allow you just enough air to prolong the torture but all the time weakening you, taking you progressively towards that edge.
Helen proved to be both cruel and skilful. She kept me teetering on the edge of oblivion, and then just pulling me back. Again and again she did this until I was a damp rag of flesh with no obvious spark of life; then when I didn’t care what she did, she drove me under.
I revived. I had no sense of time or place. I had been here before and so lay still, allowing my scattered senses to return. I felt weak, very weak and knew that I was in no condition to move.
“Welcome back shitty.” Helens sarcastic voice snapped into my drugged senses.
Slowly I turned my head towards her voice. She was sitting on the bed, apparently rifling once more what had been my private correspondence.
“Ready for more?”
“More!” I gasped.
“Sure.” She crossed the room and sat across my chest once more. I was so weak that even if I’d wanted to resist her I couldn’t have. She moved forwards until she was straddling my face. I feared the worse and panicked. I had never been smothered twice so rapidly. I formed the words to beg her to stop, but her smothering arse suffocated the words in my throat. This time she didn’t tease me. I went under in seconds.
“Wake up shitty.” It was Helen’s voice and probing foot that eventually rallied my senses. I groaned, almost vomited and simply turned onto my side in a ball, crying softly. “Not like that!” Helen demanded.
She rolled me over onto my back. She looked into my tear stained face.
“You are scum!” She spat the symbols into my face. “Get to your feet.” She demanded.
I tried. I really did but I was so weak that I couldn’t even raise myself onto my knees. Helen watched my struggles, a grim smile on her face. I was amusing her. I was her entertainment.
Eventually, by pulling onto the bed I managed to raise myself up. Helen pushed me in the chest and I collapsed again.
“I said get up!” She snarled, and aimed a kick at my ribs.
“Please Mistress.” I gasped, pleading for her to stop. “Please stop. I’ll do anything you want, just please stop.”
She knew all of this. She had known it from the moment that Tabatha had demonstrated her control over me. This was just Helen extracting pleasure. She enjoyed cruelty. She enjoyed the way I was grovelling before her.
Respite came, but not of her choosing. She had a mobile phone; all the girls had one, now Helens buzzed incessantly until angrily she answered. Whilst she talked I rallied and recovered a semblance of my wits and strength.
Seeing that I was recovering Helen signalled that I crawl to her feet. She sat on the bed and opened her legs and pointed to her panties. I guessed what she wanted.
I had expected her to smother me the first time that I tongue fucked her, but Helen was proving to be nothing like my previous Mistresses.
I pulled down her panties, with her help; she raised her bottom off my bed. Another gesture and I sniffed her gusset just as she’d seen me sniff the gusset of Tabatha’s panties.
All the time she was continuing her conversation. She nodded her approval at my actions and then pulled my pillow beneath her bottom. It raised her cunt to my eye level. Another gesture and I began to tongue fuck my new Mistress for the first time.
I am good at tongue fucking. I’d had enough practises. Miranda and Tabatha had both been demanding but had also loaned me out amongst their small cabal of followers. I realised that when my Mistresses periods struck then I was passed out to another to use.
I must have serviced a bakers dozen of the arrogant, demanding little cunts. They each had their peculiarities, things they liked or disliked. I became proficient at sensing what pleased or displeased before they could punish me. I guessed that Helen expected a slavish performance from me.
Helen was hairier than any of my other Mistresses and the smell and taste of her was also the strongest, her pubic hair was dark, wiry and long, concealing her long pubic lips behind a protective spike forest.
I buried myself to my task, alternating between licking and sucking on her cave and teasing her clitoris as it emerged from beneath its hood. The harder I worked, the longer I teased her clitoris, the wetter and wetter she began.
I could trace a dribble of her cunt juices down the crack of her arse and ultimately onto my pillow. Tonight I would sleep with Helen’s stink forever in my nostrils.
This time her climax was harder, faster and longer than the one mashing my face had induced, and yet she tried to continue her conversation, laughing and brazenly telling her caller what I was doing.
The climax soaked both my face and my pillow. It was like facing an erratic shower as spurts of her come splashed against my face and dribbled onto my pillow.
Helen squealed and laughed, swearing obscenely as she finished. She said something to her caller and then laughed again. I knew that she was talking about me and I also knew that that fact didn’t concern me.
As her climax subsided she pushed against my chest with her bare foot. At the same time she gestured angrily that I should lie down again. I had barely done so before she was kneeling across my face. This time there were no panties between her body and my face. She turned round so that she was facing my feet and I was staring up at her tight little anus.
She was going to smother me again. I panicked remembering how she’d abused me before. Helen finished her phone call and tossed the mobile onto the bed.
“Lick my arse.” She demanded, opening her bum cheeks to me.
It was almost a relief. I had been afraid that she’d smother me under again, now all she wanted me to do was tickle and tease her bottom. Disgusting though that prospect was, it was infinitely preferable to suffocation.
As I began to tickle her anus I realised just how calculated Helen’s attack on me had been. The dual smothering had been designed to terrify me so much that anything was preferable to that punishment.
So my term of servitude to Helen began. She would prove to be the hardest and most demanding of my Mistresses. Eventually she would torture and abuse me like all the others. Farting into my face, making me sniff her stink, carryout her toilet. I did all that but for Helen there would always be another added layer of abuse or humiliation she could invent.
The worse was how she handed me out to other girls. It had happened before, but this time Helen sold me to the other girls. I was income, a commodity, and that made my servitude even worse.