Teacher Training Pt3

Chloe Hunt awoke on the Saturday morning, her head swirling, body aching and a rank taste in her mouth. Had she really been fucked by an entire rugby team, or was it just another figment of her dreams? She took a breath, reflecting. No, it had been real enough, validated by the feelings in her body. In comparison to reality, her dreams had become pale imitations of that couple of hours in the changing room.

Limping across the landing, the pretty schoolteacher ran a long hot bath, generously doused with bubble bath, stepping in tentatively and standing for a minute whilst growing accustomed to the heat. Sucking in the steamy air she eased down onto her backside, submerging in the bubbles that puffed up like a giant meringue. Head only above water, the undercurrent stroked at her battered pussy like hot fingers. Oh that felt so good.

Reaching down Chloe spread the soft lips wide, submitting to the water’s urgings, groaning in a mix of pain and pleasure as its warmth entered her inner sanctum. Gathering up a ball of foam in her fingers and arching, she brought instant relief, literally cleansing away the soreness inside. No permanent damage, it seemed, she teased the ravaged clit until it throbbed.

At the same time, Chloe cupped each pert breast, wincing at the pain from the bite marks that had been inflicted by Jack two nights earlier and which remained as a reminder in addition to the fresh ones courtesy of the rugby players. After the events of the previous night, Jack seemed an eternity ago. Oh how she wanted him back and for her life to return to normal. Taking the plunge she submerged fully, the blonde mane straggling like jellyfish tentacles at the surface.

It was then that something happened that took her breath away – quite literally. The bathroom door crashed open and in came a shadowy figure. Chloe’s head re-emerged through the surface, face masked in terror and about to scream when a large hand stretched to cover her face and push it back down again below water. The resultant cry was muffled, a line of staccato bubbles pumping upward from her lips.

Chloe’s body thrashed from side to side, trying to break free of the strong grip, the water crashing in waves around her. She watched through the glazed surface as her assailant’s free hand reached down to find its way between her legs. Three thick fingers parted the labia, making a bee-line for her swollen clit. Straining to see, she made out the face of Charlie, her milkman. A chirpy type of chap who flirted with her on the doorstep, he’d asked her out hundreds of times to no avail. All that pent-up lust must have now manifest itself in this violent attack. “You’ve had your chances, Chloe dear,” he averred, the words wavy.

The milkman’s fingers bent to rub her love button purposefully, sending more urgent air bubbles to the surface like popgun pellets. As the air drained from her lungs, the heady feeling of euthoria was like nothing Chloe had ever experienced before. With the oxygen all but gone, she came hard on his fingers as the last helpless trail of air bubbles burst on the surface…

—

Chloe awoke from the latest dream with a fearsome jerk, alone in the bathroom. The water felt cold around her body, attesting to the half hour she’d dozed, and she shivered markedly. Outside in the street, the milkfloat rattled a lonely furrow sending an even bigger shiver down her spine. An intense dream, the squirt from the resultant orgasm had left a cloudy seam of pussy juice in one of the clumps of foam. Rising quickly, the pretty blonde groped for the towel, its warmth and downy feel bringing welcome relief.

As she dried, a knock on the front door startled her. Easing aside the bedroom curtains to peek out, Chloe saw the milkfloat parked obliquely outside and heard Charlie whistling on the porch. Damn, it was the weekend and he’d come to collect what he was owed. The pretty schoolteacher swallowed hard, trying to stifle the frightening thought. The knock came louder, more insistent, forcing Chloe to wrap the towel around tightly to go answer.

Peering around the edge of the door, she saw Charlie’s eyebrows elevate as he spotted the matted clump of wet blonde hair and a glimpse of bare shoulder. He tried to sneak a peek around the door, giving Chloe one of his huge early morning smiles and causing her heart to race. The dream was still replaying heavily on her poor mind as she grabbed her handbag. “Keep the change,” she stated, thrusting the note into his hand in an attempt to curtail any fuirther embarrassment.

No such luck, as she did so, the door opened a few more inches, just as the towel started to moved ever so slightly at first, her pert tits unable to halt its progress, revealing the briefest hint of nipple. Charlie issued a salacious parting glance, his leering features etched indelibly on her brain. Closing the door, Chloe leaned back upon it, breathing like an asthmatic. It was then that she felt something warm between her thighd, realising that she was wetting herself, a warm stream trickling seductively down an inner thigh. She jumped as the door rattled once more, her face a picture of fear. Oh God, was Charlie coming back to finish the job like in the dream?

Composing herself, and in spite of standing in a warm puddle of pee, Chloe opened the door a crack. It wasn’t Charlie but Kevin’s father Frank Manning that stood on the step. An overbearing older man, Chloe seemed to be surrounded by them at every turn.

A miserable thought struck her. Frank must have seen the CCTV tape. Oh God, it was the only explanation. Why else would he be at her front door? When was this nightmare ever going to cease? Chloe quaked inwardly, waiting for the accusation to fall. Shuffling uncomfortably, her pee-hole quivered once more and a warm gush tickled her pubes, running down her thighs as Frank spoke. “The wife and I are going away for the weekend,” he began. “Could you keep an eye on young Kevin for us, make sure he doesn’t throw any wild parties?”

Ironic words, she thought, Kevin was the least likely person capable of throwing a wild party. Chloe nodded her head vigorously in agreement, unable to shut the door quickly enough. Again she leaned back against it, fighting to control the tears. Even at the weekend her ordeal persisted. Stepping over the warm puddle, she eased off the towel, standing naked in the hallway. On hands and knees she mopped up her mess, feeling worthless. A precious half an hour snuggled into the sofa like a comfort blanket was interrupted by the bleep of the mobile phone, sending her heart racing. The message was simple: Be next door in one hour. K.

—

An hour later the demure schoolteacher stood on the neighbour’s step, shivering feverishly in spite of the clement weather. Kevin answered the door with a grin, ushering her through into the lounge. She was shocked to observe that her schoolboy tormentor was not alone. An equally, if not even more geeky-looking kid, was perched on the edge of the sofa, wearing spectacles and a goofy expression. “This is my cousin, Nigel,” Kevin announced.

“You never said anything about…” Chloe began.

“Shut it,” Kevin snapped.

Chloe lowered her head instinctively. “Sorry.”

“SORRY? Sorry what?”

“Sorry SIR.”

Kevin allowed himself a satisfied grin, taking a seat next to his cousin. Nigel looked young and under developed, surely no older than thirteen. It occurred to her through the myriad of grotesque thoughts circulating her messed-up head that these two had probably reached their teens without seeing a woman naked, other than on the Internet or in a porno mag. In many ways she would be providing a valuable service, stopping them from going off and raping some poor eleven-year old girl. At least that was what she tried to convince herself, to justify this madness to a rapidly eroding conscience. “So, what would you like today, Sir?” she asked meekly.

Kevin looked on thoughtfully, like a kid in a sweetshop who’d found a wad of banknotes. He took a minute to consider the options. His face beamed as an idea took shape. “Okay, do a striptease for us.”

Chloe cringed, not so much at the request itself as the implication. She’d hoped they might just take turns screwing her, satisfying their urges, in the process losing their cherries and then let her be. That would be a quick, almost painless, release. At least that was what she’d hoped might happen. As it was, this had all the hallmarks of a lingering torture. The pain showed on her pretty face. Kevin shook his head, sighing with disdain. “Look Miss Cunt, if you’re not at least going to make it look like you’re enjoying this, we’re going to have to hurt you. Understand?”

The mere threat jolted the pretty teacher and she forced a smile. “That’s better. You see, if you play ball and be a good girl, all this will be over – today.

Chloe regarded him quizzically. “Today?”

“Yes. I’ll delete your picture and destroy the CCTV tape, and that’ll be the end of it.”

Chloe’s lips curled upward in a genuine though uneasy smile. Could she believe him? Was this just another of his games to give her false hope before snatching it away again and leaving her broken? She had to believe for, right at that moment, it was all the hope she could cling to.

“Get on with it,” Kevin commanded, growing impatient.

Chloe stole a huge breath. I must make this good, she told herself, turning away from the boys so her back faced them. I must make them cum quickly. I could be out of here a free woman by midday. The sense of joy gave her a newfound rosy glow.

Running her fingers through the tangle of hair, Chloe rocked her head from side-to-side and shimmied her hips as if getting into a dance routine. Leaning forward, her peachy arse bobbled in the air, a hint of lace displayed as the short skirt rode up to the tops of each thigh. The sexy moves brought contented sighs audible from the appreciative young audience on the sofa.

Against her better nature, the whole scenario quickly proved to be less odious than Chloe had envisaged. In actual fact she was rather getting into it, a natural tease. “Do you like my bum, Sirs?” she enquired seductively, lapsing into the character of a dirty stripper with relative ease.

Looking back through her spread legs, Chloe licked her lips, before repeating the question. “I said do you like my bum, Sirs?”

“Yesssssss,” rang out the chorus of approval.

Chloe placed her palms flat on the carpet, giving her arse a good wiggle. The pleated skirt fluttered, riding higher to expose more panty lace. Gripping her ankles she continued to writhe from side to side. Slowly the sexy blonde ran her hands up each calf, letting out a contrived gasp of lust.

“Crikey she is one hot bitch, you were right,” commented Nigel, speaking for the first time.

“Mmm, she’s the hottest bitch in school,” Kevin concurred.

Almost involuntarily, Chloe’s pussy twitched at the words. God yes, she was one hot bitch. Hands caressing and moving upward over her calves, she continued to pant in mock desire. Finding her thighs, the gasp reached a crescendo. Through the gap in her legs she could see the bulges in their trousers quite distinctly. “Don’t mind me, Sirs,” she mouthed hoarsely, licking her lips. “Feel free to get those lovely big cocks out.”

Both lads grinned, glancing at each other for reassurance before wrestling zips down. As Chloe’s fingers reached the apex of her thighs and disappeared inside her skirt, two rock hard pricks were unveiled. Tentatively their fists wrapped around each shaft in unison, stroking gently.

At the same time Chloe moaned with the first semblance of genuine arousal as her fingers made contact with the crotch of her panties. Gently she pushed against the cotton front, barely parting the lips beneath, teasing and pleasing herself whilst purring seductively.