S.O.L. Games: Pet Teachers part 2/2

DON’T START AT THIS CHAPTER

How to read S.O.L. Games (pronounced ‘soul’) :

Start with the Prologue and one or more Level 1 chapters in any order. (Jump Ropes, Floor is Lava, Pet Teachers)

Then read one or more Level 2 chapters in any order. (Web Design, Teacher Taut, Chemistry, Tug of War)

Then read one or more Level 3 chapters in any order. (Hide & Seek, Pencil Sharpener, Anatomy, Dodgeball)

Then read one or more Level 4 chapters in any order. (Stations of the Cross, Mr. Wolf, LockHer, Four Square)

And so on. More to come!



Link to all my stories and more chapters to this story are in my profile.



Teachers and high school seniors abducted and forced into extreme sex games on a remote island replica of their school. Kind of a choose your own adventure. Inspired by the anime “Euphoria”, the book “Battle Royal”, the show “Squid Games”, and more.

In this one, he chooses two of his milf teachers.



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DISCLAIMERS

In this series, I write from the perspective of the VILLAIN. That means I don’t agree with his choices, and you’re not supposed to either. We’re all acknowledging he is evil and wrong. Obviously nothing he does should ever be done in real life! Please be mature adults and separate fantasy from reality. This SHOULD evoke visceral, icky feelings. That’s the POINT. This is HORROR.

This is more PORN than PLOT.

All characters are 18+.This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to events, locales, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

FETISHES / WARNINGS

-Non-con/Abuse/Violence/Male-dom

-Gross bodily fluids / bad smells

-Pissing / Watersports

-Analingus

-Bondage Gags

-Electrocution



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Pet Teachers Part 2/2

I stand by the window, looking out over the gorgeous beach, watching waves tumble onto the sandy shore. From my second floor vantage point, I gaze out at the island paradise. I don’t know how this is possible, but I’m starting to really enjoy it. A perfect replica of my school. Teachers and students abducted, forced to take part in a twisted game. All at my mercy.

I turn around, naked, taking in my surroundings once more. Room 201, Mrs. Mandal’s art room. Long tables, covered in years of dried paint. The teacher’s desk at the front. Sinks in the back. A TV in the corner.

And Aadya Mandal, the bitchy Indian teacher, sits cowering on the floor in the center of the room. Her mane of black hair a complete mess after taking my cock down her throat. Her dusky skin, so sensual, a bit of perspiration glistening across her thick figure. She’s completely topless, her arms wrapped around her large tits in an attempt at modesty. Pants still hanging down below her butt, she hugs her knees to her chin, trembling.

Nearby, Lori Wilson, the prudish religious studies teacher, sits back on her heels in a slouched kneeling position. Defeated. Her short auburn hair is greased with my cum. Sexy freckles dancing across her exposed chest. White blouse and black shawl hang ripped open in the front. Her fingers absentmindedly toying with the crucifix pendant on her necklace. Dark nylons hug her legs, accenting every motherly curve.

Both women wear metal collars, tight around their necks. Devices to keep them obedient. And their pretty mouths are stretched wide by bondage ring gags. Lips forced in lustful ‘O’ shapes.

But my eyes are already fixated on something else. The TV screen in the corner of the room. My thumb on the remote, casually browsing for a new activity. Boop. The TV indicates my choice.

The Announcer’s innocent voice resonates across the room, “New command. When you hear the following sound, you must crawl on hands and knees and perform analingus on the other female.” A strange 8-bit thump sound effect is assigned to this task. Analingus. Both women freeze where they are, a look of confusion obvious on their faces. It’s like when a teacher throws you a curve-ball on a test. Something they didn’t really go over, but now you’re expected to know it. I smile. I’m sure the ladies can figure it out.

I input the commands. A symphony of silly video game sounds. Aadya’s sound effect, bloop bloop, followed by the analingus sound, thump. Then Lori’s single bloop sound, followed by fellatio, doot. Aadya erupts into desperate pleading. Even with her gag in her mouth, I can tell she’s begging me to assign her the other way around. The ‘empowered feminist’ is begging for my cock. Anything but licking Lori’s dirty asshole. I smile and let her complain all she wants. She shakes her head back and forth wildly, which only makes her tits jiggle around before my eyes.

The counter starts beeping as the women continue to stall. But I notice something strange. Lori is reaching down for Aadya’s ass again. She got the sounds mixed up! She’s trying to do the wrong command. I stifle a laugh, enjoying the hysterical sight. She’s failing the sick game of Simon Says. She grabs at Mrs. Mandal’s naked butt, and Aadya screeches at her in anger, pushing her away. She tries again, and gets slapped by Aadya. The girls can’t form words, and in the confusion, their time is slipping away. They flail at each other, shrill voices squealing, hands slapping, shoving, clawing at each other in the growing panic. All on their knees, naked asses and tits wiggling and bouncing around lewdly.

“Command failed. Generating punishment.” That soothing voice is always such music to my ears. Ok what should we do this time? I flip through the TV menu. Oh that sounds interesting!

“Punishment assigned. The females must stand on a table. The male must determine how far apart the females’ feet are placed and then insert a paintbrush inside each female’s vagina. The females must remain standing in that position, and the brushes must not fall out for the entirety of the required time. Only the male may touch a brush. Failure will reset the clock. This task must be completed to continue the game. Remember, excessive disobedience may result in forfeit. Begin.” The TV shows three minutes required.

I look around for some paintbrushes. Not hard to find in an art room. I find some with fat cylindrical wooden handles. I grab a couple and return to the women. With a few hard pats on the ass, I urge them each to get themselves up on the nearest table. The long tables are sturdy and meant for all sorts of art activities. Coated with layers and layers of spilled paint, grime, and graffiti from years of use. The ladies stand near the edge, displaying themselves side by side. I take my time, admiring the sight. They look broken in and abused just like the table.

I quickly grab the scissors I used before and start preparing Aadya first. Lori had pulled her pants and thong down below her juicy ass, but stopped there. I reach up and start snipping away, cutting her maroon slacks down the middle, each half lazily left bunched down around an ankle. Then her panties, sliced clean off. I notice a slight yellow spot where she pissed herself earlier. The audacity. I toss them on the floor but leave her cute open-toed shoes on, enjoying the look, the way she wobbles around weakly in the raised heels.

I grab a paintbrush and reach up to begin working. Slide my hands up her smooth mocha thighs. Inspecting every inch of my art teacher up close finally. She stands quivering near the edge of the table, her cunt around eye level with me now. God damn Aadya really is sexy, isn’t she? A quick slap on her inner thigh tells her to get her feet further apart, then my hand reaches up to tug at her thick pubic hair. Trimmed, but barely. Black, fuzzy fur covers her entire crotch. Clean, but not very presentable. It seems so intentional. Another feminist statement maybe.

I sift my fingers through and find her her inner labia. Dark, near-black lips, hanging down a bit more than I’d prefer. I pinch at them, tug down painfully. Her body shifts in obvious humiliation. I notice the inside of her cunt is bright pink. Juxtaposed against the dark flesh on the outside, it almost resembles a charred piece of meat, rare and juicy on the inside.

Still pinching those meaty lips in one hand, I thrust upward suddenly with the other, jabbing the handle of the paintbrush straight into her hole. She yelps in pained surprise, but I clamp hard on her labia, not letting her escape. I shove as deep as it goes, burying the length inside her. I pump it in and out a few times, watching her fluids coat the handle. Then leave it shoved all the way in, only the bristles hanging out, almost blending in with her wild pubes.

Leaving the Indian teacher to quiver there, my attention shifts to Mrs. Wilson next to her. The red-head has been waiting obediently for her turn. Shirt completely torn down the front, tits propped up over her bra. Dark sheer tights cover her belly button, all the way down her shapely legs, with simple black flats covering her feet. So much that isn’t meant to be seen, by one of her students no less. I rub my hands up her smooth legs. The warmth, the soft squishiness. I could spend all day exploring these women. But we have a game to complete.

I slide my hand up between her thighs, and she presses them together instinctively trying to stop me. My hand forces its way up and gropes at her crotch, molesting her without a second thought about her discomfort. The heat she gives off is so arousing, but something else catches my attention. I think I’m feeling straight through to her folds. No panties? That’s probably pretty normal with these types of tights now that I think of it, the thicker fabric around the crotch probably functioning like underwear.

A paintbrush in hand, I pry her thighs apart, getting her feet in a wider stance on the tabletop.