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For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories click here

This is a revised version of the story that I published on Smashword starting back in 2014. It is rewritten with much-added material. However, I did have to age up some of the characters so no one is underage in this version.

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Click here for Servants’ Tales, Chapter 3.

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Wednesday, June 19th, 2013 – Felicity Rye – Tacoma, WA

Being a slave was a new experience for me.

I wasn’t exactly sure what was required of me. Yesterday, my former Mistress—the beautiful Mary who took my virginity that wonderful afternoon when Mark brought my friend April and me home with him from our community college—gave me to her father, Mr. Sullivan, to be his slave.

I was so happy to serve her, transferring my desire to please to him. He was a gentle man, older, his red hair, which he kept in a sexy ponytail, streaked with gray. He had experience. He knew how to please a woman. He enjoyed my eighteen-year-old body greatly last night, using me in so many wonderful ways.

He made me cum again and again. And I returned the favor. I sucked his cock, sometimes wet with my pussy, several times. I rode him. He fucked me doggy style. He caressed my body, tweaking my nipples and making me howl in delight.

He screamed, “Felicity!” until he went hoarse.

But it was the next day, and I was alone in his house. I wasn’t sure what to do with my time. He left for work an hour ago to teach at Washington College. It was the last day of their semester before the summer break. He only gave me one order:

“Buy yourself some clothes and toiletries,” he told me as he headed out the doors. “I left my keys to my pickup truck on the counter along with a credit card.

Now shopping did sound like fun, and the mall would be open soon, but what should I do after that? I mean, I could spend a few hours buying supplies and new clothes, but what then? Did he want me to clean the house? Cook him dinner?

What were my responsibilities as a slave?

Mary’s words ran in my mind. When she spoke, my soul resonated. But she only told me to serve him, not what else I should be doing when I was bored.

Pondering these questions, I hopped into the pickup truck. It was a nervous drive to the South Hill Mall from Parkland. I was used to driving my mom’s Geo Metro, a tiny car compared to Mr. Sullivan’s beast of a truck. But I managed. As I shopped, I wondered if Mr. Sullivan had ever fooled around with one of his students. Given how much he loved my nubile, barely legal body last night, I bet he definitely wanted to fuck his coeds.

But he was their college teacher. I bet it was against the rules. He would get in trouble and fired if he touched them. He was such a good man, I bet he always followed the rules. And it hit me while I was in the changing room, a pair of jeans half-drawn up my thighs.

“Ooh, that’s it,” I gasped aloud in the small space.

If my wonderful Master couldn’t fuck his own students, then I would be his horny, little schoolgirl. I was eighteen and nubile. I would fulfill all his fantasies and be the best sex slave ever. Ooh, I was so glad Mary commanded me to submit to her father.

I’d watched enough porn to know what type of clothing Mr. Sullivan would want in a horny schoolgirl, so I headed to Goth Topic, abandoning the cute pair of jeans. I needed slutty clothing. The moment I walked in, I spotted the perfect outfit.

I just needed to try it on.

I glanced around and spotted the girl working here. She thrust clothing on the rack, her face tight. I approached her with caution, her nametag glinting on her black blouse, the fabric transparent and allowing her hot-pink bra to bleed through.

“Um, Becky,” I said, clutching my clothes, “can I use the changing room?”

Her eyes flicked to me then she huffed and marched towards the back, muttering, “Why did that stupid slut Anne quit? First Lillian, and now her. They don’t pay me enough to work this early.”

“Sorry,” I said, my stomach squirming as I followed her back.

“Whatev.” She unlocked the changing room door and then yawned, her mouth opening wide. She shook her head. “Give a holler if you need any…” Another yawn widened her pouty lips. “…help.”

I nodded her, giving her a supportive smile. Lillian… There was a slut, one of the sex slaves serving Mark and Mary, named Lillian. She dressed like she could work here… What a small world.

My clothes flew off and my new outfit flew on. I quivered and beamed at myself as I preened in the mirror. I turned my body from side to side, admiring how I looked from various directions, pursing my lips to look coquettish.

“I look hot,” I purred.

I admired my cute face with sparkling, hazel eyes. My long, black hair, gathered in a French braid, fell across my left shoulder. It contrasted against the white, low-cut blouse that showed off my nicely-rounded tits. The skirt—pink-and-black tartan, so cute yet so naughty at the same time—draped over my rump and was so short it barely covered my ass. I bent over and smiled as the skirt drew up my rear, my plain, white panties, molded to my pussy, peeked it.

Just like the sluts in the pornos.

I shivered and whirled around, my tits bouncing without a bra and my skirt flaring to flash my “innocent” schoolgirl panties. I shuddered and realized I needed knee high socks and sexy heels to complete the outfit

“Mr. Sullivan, your jaw is going to drop all the way to the floor when you see me,” I murmured to the mirror, twisting my hips to drink in my naughty look. All the while my pussy grew itchy in my panties.

It turned out, I could shop for hours as I used Mr. Sullivan’s credit card to buy so many naughty things: more schoolgirl outfits, naughty lingerie, socks and thigh-high stockings, makeup, toiletries, and other necessities. Never in my life had I spent so much money all on my own.

But his credit card held up.

Classes were wrapping up when I arrived at Washington College. Excited coeds, thrilled to be done with school for the summer, streamed by to their cars or to catch the city bus waiting at the curb. I stalked among them, wearing a violet jacket to hide the inappropriateness of my outfit. I didn’t want a flock of horny guys following after me.

I was only for Mr. Sullivan.

Of course, I didn’t know where he was. And it would spoil my surprise if I showed up unannounced. I started asking people. The first four were a bust, two girls who just shook their heads then glanced at my jacket and cocked their heads, and two guys that just shrugged shoulders.

“Excuse me,” I said to one nerdy guy, “do you know Mr. Sullivan?”

“Oh, sure,” he said.

Such relief burst inside of me. “Where’s his class?”

The halls were emptied by the time I reached my Master’s classroom. Alone, I slipped out of the coat, exposing my naughty outfit. I trembled my pussy on fire. I wasn’t just acting like a horny schoolgirl.

I was a horny schoolgirl.

An eager tremble raced through me. I turned the doorknob, slipped in, and in the sweetest, sexiest schoolgirl voice I could muster, cooed, “Mr. Sullivan, I really need help with my grammar.”

I strutted towards his desk. He taught English, his classroom covered in posters talking about grammar rules or quotes from famous literature. Rows of ordinary desks, just like the ones at Pierce Community College, lurked to my right while my Master sat at his much large desk nearly straight ahead of me. I strutted past the chalkboard as he looked up.

His jaw didn’t drop to the floor, but it certainly fell wide open when he saw me.

I shivered at the awed shock on his face as he stared at me. I posed before him, a coquettish writhe rippling through my body, making my tartan skirt sway about my hips and my breasts jiggle in my blouse.

Mr. Sullivan was the epitome of the hip teacher. He wore his long, red hair, only starting to gray, pulled back into a ponytail. His close-trimmed red beard gave him a rugged, handsome cast to his face, only spoiled by the start of a middle-aged gut. He dressed in a blue jeans, a casual shirt, and black blazer.

“Well, well, well, Miss Rye,” he smiled, recovering swiftly from his surprise. His green eyes raked up and down my body. “I guess I can find some time to help you with your grammar.”

I skipped to the desk, the skirt flaring up to expose the plain, modest panties I wore. They were two sizes too small, and the gusset molded to my pussy, giving me a pronounced cameltoe. His eyes were glued to my crotch.

When I reached his desk, I perched on the corner, crossing my thighs and flashing my panties. I quivered there, my braided hair swinging behind me, my nipples swaying from the movement. My nipples poked hard at the cloth.

“I just don’t get verb endings,” I girlish said

Feeling inspired from a porno I’d watched, I snagged a pen from his desk and brought it to my lips. I sucked and nibbled on it, looking cute and sexy at the same time. My tongue fluttered around it as I stared at him with such hungry eyes. It was so hot. I felt like I was in a dirty movie.

I think porn had corrupted me. After watching the studs in them fuck the whores, none of the boys at my school stacked up. So I never let any date me. But now I had an older, sexier teacher to be my lover, and he knew how to fuck.

He’d use me just like one of those whores. His horny, schoolgirl slut.

He shifted in his chair, exposing his bulging crotch. I shivered, my pussy growing hotter, as he asked, “What do you need to know, Ms. Rye?”

“Well, fellatio,” I asked. “It ends with ‘io.’ How do you possibly conjugate that?”

“That’s because ‘fellatio’ is a noun,” he explained. “The verb is ‘to fellate’, Miss Rye.”

“Ohhhhhh,” I said, opening my eyes wide. I shivered again and rubbed the pen on my lips. I recrossed my lets, flashing my panties again, before asking, “So, if I were to slip to the floor, unzip your pants, and pull out your penis, I would be about to fellate you?”

I slipped to the floor before him, my cunt on fire, my panties absorbing my flood. He stared down at me with such hungry eyes as my hand cupped his bulge. I felt the girth of the cock which which he fucked me last night.

“Yes,” he answered, breathing heavily.

I snapped open his fastener. The zipper rasped as I drew it down. I smiled as I exposed his boxers, his dick tenting them. I reached in and drew out his cock. I leaned in and flicked out my tongue, a playful lick traveling up to the tip. He groaned, pleasure bursting to life in his eyes.

My mouth opened. Still staring up at him, I leaned forward and engulfed the head of his cock in my hungry mouth. My lips slid over his crown. I sealed them about the shaft as I sucked as hard as I could.

“Ms. Rye,” he grunted, shifting in his chair.

I popped my mouth off of him and said, “Now I’m fellating you, right?”

“Uh-huh,” he panted.

I beamed at him then I slurped his cock back into my lips, bobbing my head. I worked my hungry mouth up and down his dick, my braid swishing down my back. My cheeks hollowed every time I sucked, my tongue dancing about his girth, loving the taste of his salty precum.

“How will you conjugate ‘to fellate’ once you’ve finished, Miss Rye?” he asked me, voice throaty.

I popped my mouth off his thick shaft. “I have fellated you, Mr. Sullivan..”

He rubbed my hair. “Very good. Of course, you haven’t finished fellating me.”

“Sorry, Mr. Sullivan. I’ll get right on that.”

My mouth engulfed his dick for a third time. I sucked hard and savored the salty flavor of his precum along with the warm feel of his dick in my mouth. I seized his shaft and shivered, feeling his dick throb beneath my stroking fist.

My naughty, schoolgirl cunt grew itchy. I couldn’t ignore my wicked hole. My left hand slid between my thighs. I drew it up my skirt, the touch on my flesh sending heat rippling up to my cunt. I whimpered about his dick, sucking with all my might as my fingers climbed higher and higher.

I reached my panties.

I moaned about Mr. Sullivan’s cock as I rubbed my hot cunt through my schoolgirl panties. My pussy drank in the sensation. I shuddered ,pleasure rippling through my body. The cloth caressed my labia and clit, the naughty sensations inspiring me to fellate Mr. Sullivan with all my might.

My cheeks hollowed. Drool leaked down my chin.

“Miss Rye…” he groaned.

I shuddered and rubbed harder at my pussy, massaging my naughty bits. I massaged my clit and then whimpered. My little pussy was so naughty my juices soaked through the crotch of my panties. My fingers grew sticky with my passion.

My tongue dancing about his cock and my other hand flying up and down his shaft, I pressed my wet panties into my slit. I groaned, stimulating my aching flesh as I masturbated myself through my schoolgirl panties. My clit drank in the sensations, my body squirming, my tits jiggling.

“Oh, that’s a very good blowjob, Miss Rye!”

Feeling wanton, I popped my mouth off his dick. With my saliva running down my chin, I gazed up at him with all the innocence I could muster and asked, “What’s a blowjob, Mr. Sullivan?”

“Another name for fellatio.”

I giggled. “How strange. I’m sucking, not blowing.”

“You’re not sucking right now,” he pointed out.

“Sorry, Mr. Sullivan.” I sucked his dick right back into my mouth, my fingers digging my panties as deep into my naughty pussy as I could reach. I swirled them around, stimulating me, the fabric molding to my clit.

“Mmm, that’s a good girl.” He stroked my head as he stared down at me. “You can also call it a hummer, oral sex, a BJ, and cock gobbling.”

Really, cock gobbling? I didn’t interrupt my blowjob to ask if that was a real word.

His hands gripped the sides of my head and bobbed me up and down his shaft. I surrendered to him, letting him use me however he saw fit. I whimpered and groaned, squeezing my eyes shut. The pleasure surged through me, such a naughty delight that had my pussy melting.

My horny itch in my cunt increased. I pushed the gusset to the side so I could shove two fingers into my dripping hole. Since Mary popped my cherry with her strap-on, I could really dig my fingers into my silky depths.

I whimpered as I jammed them into me. I sucked so hard about his dick as he bobbed my head up an down his shaft. My fingers pumped in and out of me hole, my juices dripping down my wrist as I stirred myself up. Pleasure rippled through me, building my orgasm in the depths of my feminine core.

I couldn’t wait to explode.

“Sometimes, the guy uses the girl’s mouth as a pussy,” Mr. Sullivan moaned. “He holds her head in place and face fucks her.” His grip tightened.

I gasped as he his hips thrust upward. He rammed his cock into my mouth, brushing the back of my throat. It was such a shock. His chair groaned as he thrust in a second time, using my mouth like a cunt.

My pussy clenched on my pumping fingers, my pleasure increasing.

“You’re such a quick learner, Miss Rye,” he moaned. “Take my dick, slut!”

I didn’t resist at all. I let him use me. I was his schoolgirl-slave, after all.

It was so exciting being at his mercy while kneeling on the classroom floor. His dick thrust in over and over. More saliva ran down my chin as I made such lewd sounds with my mouth. It sent dizzy waves through me.

My fingers pumped faster and in and out of my naughty cunt. I whimpered about his dick then gasped when my thumb found my clit. I massaged the bud in fast circles. I trembled, the pleasure shivering through me as I pleasured myself while he fucked my mouth.

It was incredible.

“An advanced technique of fellatio is known as ‘deep-throating,’” he grunted, thrusting harder. He gripped the side of my head. “The girl relaxes her throat and swallows the man’s entire cock.”

I gasped around his dick as he pulled my head down his shaft at the same moment he thrust his dick into my mouth. His dick slammed into the back of my throat, pressing at my esophagus.

I wanted to panic, to push away from him as he continued pulling me down his shaft. His dick’s tip nuzzled at my tonsils. I whimpered, my thumb pressing hard on my clit. Pleasure sparked through my body while the fear surged through me. I couldn’t take his dick down my throat. He would choke me.

“Relax,” he whispered. “Just relax and swallow.”

His words made me shiver. My pussy clenched on my thrusting fingers. I pushed through my panic, compelled by my desire to obey Mr. Sullivan. My submissive lust outweighed my fear. He could do anything to me.

I was his sex slave. His horny, submissive schoolgirl-slut.

I swallowed his cock. I whimpered as his girth slid down my throat. He moaned as more and more of my dick filled my esophagus. In moments, my lips nuzzled into his red pubic hair. I took him to the hilt.

“Miss Rye, yes!” he groaned, his dick throbbing in my cunt.

I obeyed my master. I gave him the pleasure he needed. Craved. I surrendered my body to his use.

I came.

I groaned about his dick, my throat humming with passion. My orgasm wafted rapture through me like a gentle breeze across a meadow of wildflowers. I was just a beautiful daisy, waving in the winds of ecstasy.

My pussy convulsed about my fingers. Juices flowed around my hand as my mind melted for joy. Mr. Sullivan groaned as my passion buzzed around his cock. I shuddered, his fingers holding me in place.

My pleasure surged hotter through me, the winds blowing faster, scattering my thoughts into euphoria.

“Miss Rye, yes!” he grunted. He ripped my head up until only his tip was in my mouth and came.

His hot spunk fired into my mouth. It swirled around the back of my throat and splashed across my tongue. I shuddered, gulping down the delicious treat. My pussy convulsed about my thrusting fingers, another orgasm rippling through my body, winds of rapture gusting through my mind.

I didn’t know whether it was deep-throating my eighteen-year-old mouth that set him over the edge, or the way my throat hummed as I came. All I cared was how thick his cum was and how wonderfully salty he tasted. I swallowed every creamy drop as he panted above me.

“You are a quick study, Miss Rye,” he groaned, his face flushed.

He let go of my head. I slid off his cock and savored the last blast of cum he fired into my mouth. I swirled the thick jizz around inside my tongue, enjoying the salty flavor. I swallowed it and then licked his softening dick before gazing up at him with a wide-eyed smile.

“Now I’ve fellated you, Mr. Sullivan.”

He gripped my black braid. “Yes, you have,” he sternly said. “But performing a sexual act at school is a very serious offense. I’m going to have to punish you, Miss Rye.”

My eyes widened. I ripped my fingers out of my pussy to clap my hands over my mouth and gasped in shock. “Oh, no! I am so sorry, Mr. Sullivan. I was just so carried away with my studies. I didn’t mean to be naughty.”

“I understand that you didn’t mean to be a horny schoolgirl-slut,” he said, such heat thickening his voice. “But there’s a zero tolerance policy for this sort of behavior at our school.” He pulled up on my braid, yanking me to my feet. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be spanked. Bend over my desk.”

“Yes, Mr. Sullivan,” I answered, my voice meek and soft.

Getting spanked sounded terribly exciting. I may have been a virgin a week ago, but that didn’t stop me from watching far too much porn. Girls always enjoyed getting spanked in the videos. They moaned and gasped and begged for more as their asses grew so red. I was fascinated to find out why they loved it.

I shivered and shuddered, more juices flowing out of my panties. My disarrayed panties, half-covering my cunt, grew even more soaked. It made me feel so naughty and wanton, just aching for my punishment.

I bent over, my skirt riding up to expose my panty-clad ass.

He tutted his lips. “Your panties are soaking wet. Were you masturbating as well?”

“I was, Mr. Sullivan.” I shuddered. “I’m just such a bad girl.”

“I’m afraid that will be another ten spankings.”

I shivered and wiggled my hips.

“Now, pull your panties down to your knees, Miss Rye.”

“Yes, Mr. Sullivan.”

An exhilarating surge of shame rippled through me as I obeyed. I felt like I was truly being punished, and that only excited me more. It made my pussy ache. I reached behind me and hooked the waistband of my panties. I felt Mr. Sullivan’s eyes upon me, drinking in the sight of my flesh.

I shoved my panties down over my ass. I groaned as the cool air caressed my naked rump. I pushed my panties down farther and farther, exposing more and more of my flesh. Mr. Sullivan groaned as my soaked bush came into view. I worked the panties down farther until they bunched around my knees.

“You are just a wanton thing, aren’t you, Miss Rye?” he asked as he ran his finger up the length of my vulva, sliding through my neatly trimmed, black bush.

“Yes, Mr. Sullivan,” I moaned and shivered.

There was something so… helpless about the situation. I was vulnerable, at the mercy of this strong man. He could do whatever he wanted to me. My vulnerability only swelled my arousal. I submit to him utterly.

No wonder those girls sounded so excited in the pornos when they were spanked.

His finger pulled away from my pussy. I shuddered, my rump clenching, wondering when—

CRACK!

Stinging pain flared across my ass. My eyes squeezed shut while my pussy clenched. The heat faded into my flesh, reaching my pussy. My cunt grew hotter. I whimpered, wiggling my hips as I groaned.

“Count,” he ordered.”

“One, Mr. Sullivan,” I moaned. Yes, I was so helpless, utterly at his mercy. My little pussy burned with lust.

SMACK!

“Two, Mr. Sullivan.” The pain hurt worse, burning across my cheek, making me squirm.

Then I realized his hand lingered. He gave my rump a squeeze, the hurt flaring up for a moment. But it was a good pain. It made me shudder. My pussy clenched, drinking in the sensation of his hand, his strength.

CRACK!

“Three, Mr. Sullivan!”

The third slap landed on my left cheek. The pain left a warm, naughty feeling on my ass. His hand landed again and again. The smacking blows made me gasp and buck, quivering on his desk. My cunt grew hotter, drinking in the agony.

My juices ran down my thighs.

SMACK!

“Seven, Mr. Sullivan!”

Every spanking sent a stinging spike of pain through my butt-cheeks right to my pussy. The degradation, the shame, mixed together in my snatch. The emotions brimmed with the hurt, building and building in my cunt’s depths. I whimpered as I came closer and closer to boiling over.

Every spank made me wetter, my voice growing louder and more hoarse as I was overcome by passion. Juices ran down my thighs now, my bush utterly soaked by my excitement for his strong discipline.

SMACK!

“Eleven, Mr Sullivan!” I moaned.

Fire raged across my ass. My butt-cheeks must be glowing so bright red it must be blushing like the fair cheeks of an innocent schoolgirl.

SLAP!

“Twelve, Mr. Sullivan!”

Again his hand lingered. I shuddered at the soothing touch then winced as he squeezed my stinging butt-cheek. It was a painful, yet tender, sensation. I could feel how much he cared about me as his hand moved lower, sliding between my thighs.

I whimpered as he rubbed my sopping pussy. He stroked up and down my aching labia, my pussy drinking in the sensations. He brushed my clit; I gasped as a tiny orgasm shivered through me, taking some of the pressure off the large cum boiling up inside me. The rapture had me trembling and shaking as he pulled his fingers away.

His lips smacked like he sucked on something. “Mmm, you have a spicy, tart flavor, Miss Rye. Very delicious.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sullivan.”

CRACK!

I winced; he spanked me harder. The pain hurtled straight to my pussy. “Thirteen, Mr. Sullivan!”

“Such a naughty girl,” he growled.

SMACK!

“Fourteen, Mr. Sullivan!” I wiggled my hips, my pussy boiling, so close to my orgasm.

“Only a dirty girl would get so turned on by getting spanked!”

SLAP!

“Fifteen, Mr. Sullivan!”

The agony grew so intense across my ass it almost became numb. I shuddered, wiggling my hips, my pussy so hot. I waited for the next blow to land then groaned, realizing his hands stroked my burning rump as they moved lower and lower.

His fingers crossed my taint. I gasped as he brushed the lips of my dripping pussy. He found the entrance to my cunt, his thumb sliding up to my clit. He massaged my bud and thrust a single finger into my cunt. His digit sank deep.

Another small orgasm rocked through me. I whimpered, my pussy convulsing for a moment on his digit, loving the feel of him in me. I whimpered, my eyes squeezing shut. The pleasure rippled through my body.

“Do I feel your pussy orgasming on my finger, Miss Rye?”

“Yes,” I moaned. “Please! I need something bigger so I can really cum!”

His finger stirred inside me. “Like what?”

“Your cock!” I begged. “Fuck me, please!”

His finger whipped out of my cunt.

CRACK!

“Sixteen, Mr. Sullivan!” I squealed, the pain flaring across my ass. The agony hovered on the knife’s edge of rapture, almost pushing me over the edge. My pussy clenched, missing his finger, aching for his cock.

“Your punishment isn’t over, yet,” he said.

“I’m sorry. Please, keep punishing me. I’ve been such a naughty, horny schoolgirl!”

SMACK!

“Seventeen, Mr. Sullivan!” I needed his cock so bad! My poor cunt hungered to be penetrated over and over. My butt-cheeks clenched as I squirmed.

“You should see your ass, it’s a beautiful shade of red.”

CRACK!

“Eighteen, Mr. Sullivan!”

“There’s is nothing prettier than a naughty schoolgirl’s ass glowing cherry red,” he groaned, his finger tracing around my butt. He left behind a line of painful fire that forced a sharp intake of my breath. “So beautiful.”

SMACK!

Tears welled in my eyes.

“Nineteen, Mr. Sullivan!”

I was a ball of agony and frustration. The warring sensations set every nerve in my body alight. I needed a release so badly. I need to cum. I needed my burning ass to be soothed. I couldn’t take much more of this.

“Please,” I whispered, shaking my ass at him.

SMACK!

My final spanking didn’t land on my ass. It landed on my pussy.

Pain and pleasure exploded inside me. My delicate flower screamed as his hand bruised its petals. The pain pushed me over the edge; a huge cum burned through me. Flames of ecstasy surged out of my cunt and through my body.

I gasped and moaned, writhing bent over his desk. My pussy convulsed as the ecstasy ran through me. I squirmed and shuddered, my mind melting beneath the assault. It was so wondrous. I loved cumming it was the best.

My release had come. Glorious rapture consumed me.

Ecstasy drowned my mind. my pussy convulsed so hard, aching to be filled. I bucked and shuddered on the desk, wishing—

I gasped as something hard thrust into my pussy. It filled me to the hilt. Flesh smacked into my burning ass. Pain flared through me. My cunt clenched down on the thick shaft filling up my cunt to the hilt.

Then it plunged in and out of me. I gasped, my body shuddering, gripped in the throes of passion from my climax. It took me a moment to realize Mr. Sullivan’s cock fucked in and out of my orgasming cunt.

It. Felt. Wonderful.

His cock pistoned in and out, igniting the nerves in my cunt. Fresh spasms rippled through me as new orgasm crashed through my body. I squirmed on the desk, gasping and moaning as he hammered me, his balls thudding into my clit.

“Oh, Mr. Sullivan!” I purred. “Fuck me! Pound my naughty cunt!”

“Yes!” he growled then groped my smarting ass.

I gasped, squeezing my cunt down on his plunging cock.

“You girls are all the same,” he grunted, thrusting harder as he kept kneading my rump, making me squirm on his dick. “Slaves to the hungry hole between your thighs, begging to eat a nice, hard cock.”

“Yes, yes!” I gasped, letting the pleasure wash through me. “Feed me! Let me devour your cum!”

His desk shook. It squeaked against the linoleum floor as it slid an inch. Every time his cock sheathed all the way inside me, his groin slammed into my burning ass, adding a spice of pain to the pleasurable meal my cunt consumed.

“Miss Rye, you have an excellent pussy!”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Sullivan!” I gasped.

The pleasure rolled through me again and again. Orgasm burst inside my cunt, my flesh convulsing so hard about his dick. My hips to writhed and undulated, stirring my cunt around his pounding dick. I bucked back against him, heedless of the pain in my ass.

Welcoming the flare of agony. It fed my orgasms. The pleasure and the pain kept my pussy convulsing. Kept the ecstasy burning through my mind. I loved it. Stars burst before me as I gasped and moaned in ecstasy.

“Oh, Mr. Sullivan, your cock is driving me wild!”

Another rapturous orgasm spilled out of my snatch. His dick thrust faster, harder. His crotch spanked my rump. The delicious pain slammed into my mind. I squeaked out in ecstasy as juices gushed down my thighs to my panties bunched around my knees.

His hand seized my thick, French braid and yanked my head back. I stared at his face over my shoulder, contorting with pleasure, and knew he was moments away from cumming. I shuddered, aching for that.

“Flood my horny, schoolgirl pussy,” I begged. “Give it to me! Flood my cunt!”

“Yes!” he snarled, his green eyes squeezing shut.

He slammed into my pussy. His cum flooded my hungry cunt.

He triggered my most powerful orgasm yet! My cunt spasmed about his spurting cock. I milked out his cum, welcoming every last drop of his wonderful spunk deep inside my pussy. He grunted with each blast, the pleasure thick in his voice.

Pleasure my naughty, schoolgirl cunt gave him.

I writhed my tits against his desk, nipples scraping across the scuffed veneer. My hands squeezed the desk’s edges as such spectacular passion burst through me. It slammed into my mind. It consumed my thoughts in rapture.

I collapsed on the desk as he breathed heavily over me. His cock softened in me as I came down from my orgasmic high. It was incredible. Pain, pleasure, submission. I loved it. I loved being his horny schoolgirl.

“That was wonderful, Felicity,” he panted. “Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” I smiled.

He cupped my face with his hands, brought my lips to his, and kissed me. Joy bubbled inside me as his whiskers scratched at my cheeks. I worked my lips against his while my tongue buried into his mouth.

It left me reeling when he broke it.

“You’re my horny, little schoolgirl, aren’t you?”

“Always,” I breathed.

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Friday, April 4th, 2014 – Felicity Rye – Murano Hotel, Tacoma, WA

Always…

My broken promise haunted me after Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan freed me from being a slave almost a year ago. It had been right after the Miracle had changed the world when I was given the choice to stay, freed from Mary’s mind control

“We want you to stay only if you want to,” Mrs. Sullivan had said. She looked barely older than me, eighteen and gorgeous, with beautiful, blonde hair and deep, blue eyes. Looking back, I could tell how happy they were to finally be reunited.

However, my anger burned fiercely within me. For a week-and-a-half, I played the naughty schoolgirl for Mr. Sullivan. He performed every shameful, degrading act upon me he could imagine. I sucked his cum out of his cock, dug his jizz out of my own pussy, and ate his spunk out of his barely legal daughter’s cunt. I let him stick his dick up my butt, I drank his piss, and even tongued his ass.

“I want to go home to my parents,” I said, words ice.

“I understand,” Mrs. Sullivan whispered. “I was made to be a sex slave once.” She hugged me. “I know nothing I can say can wash away the harm that’s been done to you, but…”

“Let me go home!” I snarled and shoved her away. I was free of the mind control, of Mary’s words making me believe I enjoyed serving her father.

I tried to return to my normal life, but my promise haunted me. When I said I would be his horny, little schoolgirl forever, I meant it with every fiber of my being. Only every fiber of my being was controlled by Mary Glassner’s commands. Despite being freed, I couldn’t shake a feeling of guilt I had at breaking my word. It didn’t matter that I knew it was a lie brought on by Her divine powers.

As the year dragged on and on, and I witnessed the Living Gods’ increasing power, I began to regret my decision. What I was missing out on.

Was being a slave really that bad?

My family had survived the Wormwood plague relatively intact. My father fell ill, but he recovered on his own while my younger brother, who fell ill just two weeks ago when everyone had thought the disease had run its course, was saved by Mary. It was pure luck, or maybe the Living Gods’ providence, that she had been visiting the Good Sam Hospital the day Jeff was admitted.

While Mary healed him, she was attended by April, my former friend from community college. It was startling to see April. She chose to remain a slave to Mary while I had sought freedom. And she looked happy, glowing with her pregnancy, and attending to the equally pregnant Goddess like a happy pet.

The Goddess was the most beautiful woman, so I could understand April’s worship of Her—I wanted nothing more than to fall to my knees and pleasure the Goddess, and envied my mother who had been fortunate enough to do just that—but it had surprised me to see how the Goddess treated April. My friend was clearly in love with her Mistress, and Mary was clearly fond of her slave. They laughed and joked, sharing an intimacy that seemed beyond anything I’d ever witnessed.

Always…

My promise slammed into my thoughts.

Is that what I had missed out on for the last year? Regret blossomed like a foul weed in my soul.

That thought consumed me for the last two weeks. Every time I masturbated, I imagined my former Master treating me like a horny, little schoolgirl all over again. I wanted to be taken by him, and made to do all those nasty, yet exciting, acts.

I wanted to be his slave again.

I surrendered to my desires. Today, I showed up today at the Hotel Murano. I wore the same naughty schoolgirl’s outfit as the day I made my promise. I trembled when I arrived, staring at the temporary of home of the Living Gods. With a bold voice, I declared, “I’m here to see Mr. Sullivan.”

I knew he lived here with his divine Daughter.

It took me an hour before someone took me seriously. After a thorough, and very embarrassing, search by the bodyguards, they let me in. I shivered as I stood in the richly appointed hotel lobby. Doubts plagued me. Mr. Sullivan wouldn’t want me back. He must have found a new schoolgirl to play with. I wanted to flee, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to live with regret a moment longer. I didn’t want it choking all the hope and life out of my soul, a diseased weed crowding out everything else.

A few women, dressed scantily as maids, puttered around. One was a girl my age, a silver choker about her neck naming her Cindy. I blinked when I realized I could see her budding breasts bleeding through the black, transparent bodice. She was dusting. When she bent over, her skirt rode up high. My eyes fell on her smooth, shaved vulva winking at me from between her thighs.

“Miss Rye?” a man asked.

I jumped, flushing at being caught staring at another girl’s pussy, and turned to see…

“Mr. Sullivan,” I squeaked then smiled at him. He looked as handsome as ever. His pretty wife was on his arm, and she was very pregnant, a warm, friendly smile upon her lips. Then the emotions hit me. Tears formed in my eyes. A hitch trembled through my body, a sob building in the back of my burning throat.

“I made a mistake,” I whispered, hanging my head.

“What, sweetie?” Mrs. Sullivan asked.

“I promised to always be your horny, little schoolgirl, Mr. Sullivan,” I answered, too scared to look up at him. “I never should have broken that promise.”

The tears came. A ragged noise burst from my throat. My entire body shook as the sobs came. I couldn’t help it. It was a mistake to come here. He didn’t need me. I had my chance to be his slave, and I blew it. I would have to live choked by regret—

Their arms engulfed me.

They pulled me to them. Mr. Sullivan’s embrace so strong while his wife made such soothing, motherly sounds. Her hand was soft, stroking my cheek. His hand was firm, grasping my hip. My face rested on his chest. His lips kissed my forehead.

“It’s okay,” Mr. Sullivan whispered. “You’re back. That’s all that matters.”

“I won’t break my promise this time. I’m your horny, little schoolgirl forever!”

Mr. Sullivan capture my lips in a kiss. Joy bubbled inside me.

Forever.

The END of Felicity’s Tale

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