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| A teen girl's school shoes. I'll bet they sweat up nicely after a long day. |
He tried to put his improper thoughts out of his mind as he waited. She was a budding 18 year old. Physically much more developed than her classmates. She flaunted it too. Always wearing impeccable makeup and perfume and hiking up her skirt while sitting in the front row, crossing and uncrossing her milky thighs. There had been numerous occasions Mr Smith had to remain seated at his desk to avoid the class of girls from discovering his tented crotch.
He was only 25, a young male teacher at an all girls' school. He was quite good looking too, in a boyish way, and was the object of much teenage girlish fantasy. Regardless he was still torn up over his borderline obsession with Tracey. He had never had this problem with the younger girls, but his recent transfer to the final year girls had been very challenging. These were women with a fresh sense of the power they held over men and how easily they could be manipulated.
It had started as a mere infatuation here and there. Tracey's face popping into his mind as he often came alone. A mere thought while in the shower. To something more sinister. Sniffing her chair after class. Sucking on the gum she'd left stuck under her desk. Each time he'd cum harder than before until she was all he could think about.
It had started as a mere infatuation here and there. Tracey's face popping into his mind as he often came alone. A mere thought while in the shower. To something more sinister. Sniffing her chair after class. Sucking on the gum she'd left stuck under her desk. Each time he'd cum harder than before until she was all he could think about.
He'd try hard to put this all out of his mind before every new class, but it was overwhelming. Once Tracey had forgotten her used gym socks after a long sports day at her desk. The sole and toes looked damp and brown with sweat pooling. A careless accident, but he knew he had to taste them. The smell was still so delicious even though months had passed and the salty taste had been washed away by his desperate and pathetic suckling. The vinegary musk of her feet through the worn socks was intoxicating. They stayed by his bedside so he could lay them over his face every night before sleep and just fantasise.
This was going to be a difficult one-on-one session.
Meanwhile at the lockers, "Fucking Mr Smith," spat Tracey. "He's making me stay for a meeting after school."
"Oh really?!" said Nikki excitedly. "Maybe he likes you!"
"Of course he likes me. He's just another boy with a hard-on. I know why he stays behind his desk some classes. He can't control his tiny dick every time I wear a short skirt."
"No way! You're so lucky," giggled Nikki, her breasts bouncing. "How's the class going?"
"Well, he let up on me for a while after I left him my socks. I thought a little jerk off material might make him go easy on me, but now I have this meeting."
"What are you going to do?"
"What I always do with boys. Put him in his place... At my feet."
"You're so cruel."
"The meeting was at 3.30."
"And you're late!"
"That's the plan. I'm letting him spend some time with his thoughts, making sure his balls are nice and full. There's no place to relieve yourself in that classroom."
"What if he's already gone home?"
"Please. He's got a dick. He'll stick around at least another hour just to see what I'm wearing."
"Does he still smell your chair?"
"Every class. I even saw him take my gum from under the table once and suck on it."
"Ew!"
"I know. This is going to be easy. I'm going to take his left nut by 5pm, I promise you that. Then no more History study for me."
"I thought he taught English though."
"Whatever he teaches, Nikki, he'll be doing it with one ball between his legs."
Tracey sauntered into the classroom at 4.45pm. She was dressed to kill in her short plaid skirt, hiked up the thigh, always teasing every eye it passed. Her white button-up shirt was undone dangerously past her ample cleavage - a hint of a black lace bra beneath. Her frilly white ankle socks draped over her black leather Mary Janes.
Mr Smith, even with all his mental focus and preparation was speechless at the vision crossing the room toward his desk. He happened to be sitting at this desk momentarily, but now he dared not move for the swelling just underneath it. Tracey could tell from the light perspiration on his forehead that she was having her intended effect. She'd seen it before on her step-father as well as countless boys and men she'd come across and so easily gotten exactly what she wanted. Mr Smith was no different.
"How are they hanging?" She meowed, locking in a sultry and unfaltering gaze directly into Mr Smith's eye. He couldn't look away. Her bedroom eyes sent a torrent of blood to his cock.
"They're- I'm fine," he stuttered. "I thought we could have a- a talk, about your performance."
"My performance is just fine," she placed her hands wide across the edge of his desk and bent down, giving him an awe-inspiring view at her freshly blossomed cleavage. "Just ask the boys."
"Tracey! I would never discuss such matters with your classmates."
"I wasn't talking about those boys," she smirked, her eyes shifting downward to his crotch. "I was talking about these boys." It was time for her to make her move and establish her dominance. Her hand stretched out across the desk. Her flawless red nails and petite young hand reached down past the desk and grabbed a hold of Mr Smith's crotch. He arched his back forward and moaned instinctively. Her touch was so gentle and delicate. But he knew it was wrong. She was his student.
"Tracey please..." he begged. "This is wrong."
"Tell me to stop," she chided, slowly drawing circles with her palm around the ever-expanding tent in his pants. "No?" she cooed in baby-talk, pursing her lips playfully.
He locked eyes with her and couldn't bring himself to say a word. He hoped this moment of ecstasy would last forever.
"That's what I thought." She almost sounded disappointed. She withdrew her hand abruptly and Mr Smith collapsed subtly. A mental defeat if not a complete physical one.
"I'm sorry, Tracey," he said exasperatedly.
"Oh, don't be sorry. Everyone has to learn some time."
"Learn what?"
"Their proper place." She sashayed around his desk, swinging her hips, one pedicured foot daintily in front of the other, she came to his side and scooted herself up onto his desk next to him. She took her time crossing her legs. He could now see a hint of panties between her legs and a jet of pre-cum began to stain his crotch.
"Those pants look a little tight," she pouted, talking in her baby-talk voice again. "Let me help you out of them." She reached down and undid his button and fly expertly. His cock now at full-mast shot forth.
"Now how about I give you a lesson in biology and sociology." She wrapped her small hand around his throbbing head. "What is this?""
"It's my penis," he quivered.
"Wrong, baby. It's actually your brain."
He looked confused.
As she spoke she wrapped her fingers around the crown of his penis and started manipulating him to the point of orgasm. He was struggling to breathe let alone think. She continued to work his cock until he was about to cum, as he approached orgasm, she immediately stopped, stealing away an orgasm at its verge. He moaned pathetically.
"You just let your student seduce you and nearly make you cum all over yourself. Tsk tsk." She ran her nail up the length of his cock, eliciting another spurt of pre-cum. "Definitely your brain, you do all your thinking with it, huh?" The shame coated his face in thick application. His training was proceeding very well.
"And what do we have here?" She moved her hand lower down and grabbed a hold of his testicles in her fist, roughly enough to cause the air to escape his lungs.
"My testicles?!" He said in a shocked higher pitch. Less of an answer to a question of anatomy than a reactive yelp.
"Some men use them to make the loads of cum I swallow, we call them alphas. But for men like you - or betas - I prefer to think of them as your anatomical reset button, or a shock collar if you will." She began to squeeze them quite roughly in her dainty hand. The nut meat compressed sending shockwaves of pain through Mr Smith's abdomen. He groaned deeply. She pulled his head into her chest, resting his head tenderly across her voluptuous breasts, all the while slowly compressing his organs in her petite hand. "Deep breaths now," she instructed.
"You see, grades and assignments don't matter if your whole world is in the palm of my hand. Now this is going to be so humiliating for you: repeat after me," she said nonchalantly, inspecting the nails of her free hand while she singlehandedly kept Mr Smith in the depths of agonising despair. "My nuts belong to Princess Tracey."
"Tracey please, let them go." He wailed, sweating profusely as he felt his ability to reproduce tremble in the soft hand of this devastating teenager.
"Alright, I didn't want to have to use my nails, but if you're not going to play along..."
She clamped her fingers inward, digging her nails into his balls. His eyes wide, he squealed like a pig, "My nuts belong to Princess Tracey!" He keened a pained screech and started hyperventilating.
"Now you're getting it. So much faster than my stepfather! Repeat after me: I am your slave."
"I am your slave!"
"I live to serve Princess Tracey."
"I live to serve Princess Tracey!"
"I will remember the day my nuts were ruined forever."
"I will remember the day my nuts were ruined forever!"
"Please crush them harder, Princess."
"Please crush them harder, Princess!" He shuddered as he realised what he'd said. She smirked.
She forced her nails to almost meet at the centre of his nuts. He let out a blood curdling scream, tears flowed freely down his cheeks. She relented and he collapsed into the chair, she loosened but still did not completely release his balls from her grip.
"I will give you an A for the semester."
"I will give you an A for the semester," he winced, defeated.
"What time is it?"
"What time is it?"
She rolled her eyes, "No, limpdick! What is the actual time?"
He looked up at the clock on the wall, "4.59," he struggled. She relinquished his balls for the moment.
She scooted across the desk to sit directly in front of him, kicking off her Mary Janes, she placed her sock-clad feet on his lap. That same gorgeous aroma of foot sweat drenched his nostrils, her socks leaving damp marks behind wherever they graced his pants. She angled her dainty but beautiful feet between his legs. Her left sole expertly pushed his cock up across his stomach, and her right trapped his left nut between the pad of her foot and the seat of the chair. In this position he could have seen the pristine outline of her pussy lips through her white panties but he was in too much pain to fully appreciate the life-long masturbatory aid this could have provided.
"What are you doing?" He muttered.
"Oh, I made a promise to a friend. Hope you weren't planning on having kids. Hold still."
She stood up from the desk, balancing on his chair through his nutmeat. She looked effortlessly graceful and elegant propped up, her posture exquisite in her lithe form, like a ballerina. She bounced viciously three times and a crunch was audible. Mr Smith could not appreciate it in the moments before thankfully passing out, but the view up her skirt was exquisite.
He woke to blinding pain in his groin and abdomen, and a note laid out before him on the desk. Tracey was long gone.
"Dear Mr Smith,
I'm sorry I had to crush your left nut and leave, but I got bored. I brought my friend Nikki in as well. She's always had a crush on you and was planning on blowing you after we graduated next month, but after she saw how pathetic you looked, she changed her mind. I hope you know you made two hot girls giggle a little bit, so I'd say losing a nut was totally worth it :p
Btw she agrees with me that you have a shrimp dick. Also she wants an 'A' as well, and you should probably just do it because she's not as nice as me. She'll crush your last nut real slow. Like I'm talking hours.
Also from experience, you're going to want to go to the hospital to get that nutmeat taken out. Tell them a crazy ex-girlfriend slammed a baseball bat up there or something, I don't care. Whatever you have to say to avoid jail lolz.
Hopefully I haven't already given you a complete vasectomy, but make sure you remember our deal or I'll have to crush the other one too :(
And to show you that I'm not all mean, I left you the socks I was wearing when I rocked your world. I'll bet they're super sweaty! ;)
Happy jerk sessions! The first few are going to hurt real bad :p
Princess Tracey
xoxo"
He grasped for the socks laid out beside the letter and pressed them to his face. She was right, they were soaked, his face felt moist from their touch. Even through the pain he was somehow comforted by their familiar scent. He hungrily lapped at them, savouring their vinegary contents. He wrung a droplet of Tracey's foot sweat onto his tongue. He collapsed forward exasperated onto his desk. Every movement was excruciating. He relented, masturbating furiously as tears streamed down his face and a high-pitched whine escaped his lips. Every graze of his scrotum with his fist as he jerked caused new waves of pain. In moments, he was cumming a huge blood-stained load all over himself.
It dawned on him then in his post-coital state that Tracey's last and cruelest act was leaving behind her socks. She knew he would have to cum as soon as he saw them, and that he couldn't have Paramedics find him with cum all over himself. That would raise all kinds of questions.
And he could never mention what truly happened as no one would ever believe he was so easily dominated. Surely they would only ever imagine she was acting in self defence against his lecherous advances. He let out a defeated moan as he mentally prepared himself for the torturous walk to the bathroom before calling an ambulance.
Tracey and Nikki walked carefree down the street, side-by-side, hand-in-hand - a perfect vision. Their matching scantily-adjusted school uniforms forming every inch of a perfect wet dream.
An ambulance wailed past the pair, sirens blaring. The driver paused to study the girls as he passed, the familiar rush of blood to his member made him shift uncomfortably. He forced himself to focus on his work and promised himself he would picture the young girls once he was finally back in the shower after work, away from his nagging wife.
"You think that's for him?" Nikki chimed.
"Probably," Tracey exhaled.
Nikki paused in thought, "Do you think he can still have kids?"
"Who cares."
"I think I'm going to blow him anyway."
"You slut," Tracey teased. "I suppose it wouldn't be hard to fit that whole thing in your mouth."
"Shut up," retorted Nikki. "You're the one that left him your socks to jerk off with."
Tracey paused in thought, why had she left her socks? Did she like the idea of him jerking to her? Did she pity him? Or did she actually care for Mr Smith after all?
No, she quickly reminded herself. She was only to be dicked down by alphas.
"Don't blow him, Nikki. Your mouth is for alpha cocks."
Nikki sulked, deflated but resolute.
"Now that we've got Mr Smith by the balls," she smiled cruelly, "how much do you think a teacher's salary would be split between us?"
Nikki immediately brightened at the possibility.
Mr Smith, even with all his mental focus and preparation was speechless at the vision crossing the room toward his desk. He happened to be sitting at this desk momentarily, but now he dared not move for the swelling just underneath it. Tracey could tell from the light perspiration on his forehead that she was having her intended effect. She'd seen it before on her step-father as well as countless boys and men she'd come across and so easily gotten exactly what she wanted. Mr Smith was no different.
"How are they hanging?" She meowed, locking in a sultry and unfaltering gaze directly into Mr Smith's eye. He couldn't look away. Her bedroom eyes sent a torrent of blood to his cock.
"They're- I'm fine," he stuttered. "I thought we could have a- a talk, about your performance."
"My performance is just fine," she placed her hands wide across the edge of his desk and bent down, giving him an awe-inspiring view at her freshly blossomed cleavage. "Just ask the boys."
"Tracey! I would never discuss such matters with your classmates."
"I wasn't talking about those boys," she smirked, her eyes shifting downward to his crotch. "I was talking about these boys." It was time for her to make her move and establish her dominance. Her hand stretched out across the desk. Her flawless red nails and petite young hand reached down past the desk and grabbed a hold of Mr Smith's crotch. He arched his back forward and moaned instinctively. Her touch was so gentle and delicate. But he knew it was wrong. She was his student.
"Tracey please..." he begged. "This is wrong."
"Tell me to stop," she chided, slowly drawing circles with her palm around the ever-expanding tent in his pants. "No?" she cooed in baby-talk, pursing her lips playfully.
He locked eyes with her and couldn't bring himself to say a word. He hoped this moment of ecstasy would last forever.
"That's what I thought." She almost sounded disappointed. She withdrew her hand abruptly and Mr Smith collapsed subtly. A mental defeat if not a complete physical one.
"I'm sorry, Tracey," he said exasperatedly.
"Oh, don't be sorry. Everyone has to learn some time."
"Learn what?"
"Their proper place." She sashayed around his desk, swinging her hips, one pedicured foot daintily in front of the other, she came to his side and scooted herself up onto his desk next to him. She took her time crossing her legs. He could now see a hint of panties between her legs and a jet of pre-cum began to stain his crotch.
"Those pants look a little tight," she pouted, talking in her baby-talk voice again. "Let me help you out of them." She reached down and undid his button and fly expertly. His cock now at full-mast shot forth.
"Now how about I give you a lesson in biology and sociology." She wrapped her small hand around his throbbing head. "What is this?""
"It's my penis," he quivered.
"Wrong, baby. It's actually your brain."
He looked confused.
As she spoke she wrapped her fingers around the crown of his penis and started manipulating him to the point of orgasm. He was struggling to breathe let alone think. She continued to work his cock until he was about to cum, as he approached orgasm, she immediately stopped, stealing away an orgasm at its verge. He moaned pathetically.
"You just let your student seduce you and nearly make you cum all over yourself. Tsk tsk." She ran her nail up the length of his cock, eliciting another spurt of pre-cum. "Definitely your brain, you do all your thinking with it, huh?" The shame coated his face in thick application. His training was proceeding very well.
"And what do we have here?" She moved her hand lower down and grabbed a hold of his testicles in her fist, roughly enough to cause the air to escape his lungs.
"My testicles?!" He said in a shocked higher pitch. Less of an answer to a question of anatomy than a reactive yelp.
"Some men use them to make the loads of cum I swallow, we call them alphas. But for men like you - or betas - I prefer to think of them as your anatomical reset button, or a shock collar if you will." She began to squeeze them quite roughly in her dainty hand. The nut meat compressed sending shockwaves of pain through Mr Smith's abdomen. He groaned deeply. She pulled his head into her chest, resting his head tenderly across her voluptuous breasts, all the while slowly compressing his organs in her petite hand. "Deep breaths now," she instructed.
"You see, grades and assignments don't matter if your whole world is in the palm of my hand. Now this is going to be so humiliating for you: repeat after me," she said nonchalantly, inspecting the nails of her free hand while she singlehandedly kept Mr Smith in the depths of agonising despair. "My nuts belong to Princess Tracey."
"Tracey please, let them go." He wailed, sweating profusely as he felt his ability to reproduce tremble in the soft hand of this devastating teenager.
"Alright, I didn't want to have to use my nails, but if you're not going to play along..."
She clamped her fingers inward, digging her nails into his balls. His eyes wide, he squealed like a pig, "My nuts belong to Princess Tracey!" He keened a pained screech and started hyperventilating.
"Now you're getting it. So much faster than my stepfather! Repeat after me: I am your slave."
"I am your slave!"
"I live to serve Princess Tracey."
"I live to serve Princess Tracey!"
"I will remember the day my nuts were ruined forever."
"I will remember the day my nuts were ruined forever!"
"Please crush them harder, Princess."
"Please crush them harder, Princess!" He shuddered as he realised what he'd said. She smirked.
She forced her nails to almost meet at the centre of his nuts. He let out a blood curdling scream, tears flowed freely down his cheeks. She relented and he collapsed into the chair, she loosened but still did not completely release his balls from her grip.
"I will give you an A for the semester."
"I will give you an A for the semester," he winced, defeated.
"What time is it?"
"What time is it?"
She rolled her eyes, "No, limpdick! What is the actual time?"
He looked up at the clock on the wall, "4.59," he struggled. She relinquished his balls for the moment.
She scooted across the desk to sit directly in front of him, kicking off her Mary Janes, she placed her sock-clad feet on his lap. That same gorgeous aroma of foot sweat drenched his nostrils, her socks leaving damp marks behind wherever they graced his pants. She angled her dainty but beautiful feet between his legs. Her left sole expertly pushed his cock up across his stomach, and her right trapped his left nut between the pad of her foot and the seat of the chair. In this position he could have seen the pristine outline of her pussy lips through her white panties but he was in too much pain to fully appreciate the life-long masturbatory aid this could have provided.
"What are you doing?" He muttered.
"Oh, I made a promise to a friend. Hope you weren't planning on having kids. Hold still."
She stood up from the desk, balancing on his chair through his nutmeat. She looked effortlessly graceful and elegant propped up, her posture exquisite in her lithe form, like a ballerina. She bounced viciously three times and a crunch was audible. Mr Smith could not appreciate it in the moments before thankfully passing out, but the view up her skirt was exquisite.
He woke to blinding pain in his groin and abdomen, and a note laid out before him on the desk. Tracey was long gone.
"Dear Mr Smith,
I'm sorry I had to crush your left nut and leave, but I got bored. I brought my friend Nikki in as well. She's always had a crush on you and was planning on blowing you after we graduated next month, but after she saw how pathetic you looked, she changed her mind. I hope you know you made two hot girls giggle a little bit, so I'd say losing a nut was totally worth it :p
Btw she agrees with me that you have a shrimp dick. Also she wants an 'A' as well, and you should probably just do it because she's not as nice as me. She'll crush your last nut real slow. Like I'm talking hours.
Also from experience, you're going to want to go to the hospital to get that nutmeat taken out. Tell them a crazy ex-girlfriend slammed a baseball bat up there or something, I don't care. Whatever you have to say to avoid jail lolz.
Hopefully I haven't already given you a complete vasectomy, but make sure you remember our deal or I'll have to crush the other one too :(
And to show you that I'm not all mean, I left you the socks I was wearing when I rocked your world. I'll bet they're super sweaty! ;)
Happy jerk sessions! The first few are going to hurt real bad :p
Princess Tracey
xoxo"
He grasped for the socks laid out beside the letter and pressed them to his face. She was right, they were soaked, his face felt moist from their touch. Even through the pain he was somehow comforted by their familiar scent. He hungrily lapped at them, savouring their vinegary contents. He wrung a droplet of Tracey's foot sweat onto his tongue. He collapsed forward exasperated onto his desk. Every movement was excruciating. He relented, masturbating furiously as tears streamed down his face and a high-pitched whine escaped his lips. Every graze of his scrotum with his fist as he jerked caused new waves of pain. In moments, he was cumming a huge blood-stained load all over himself.
It dawned on him then in his post-coital state that Tracey's last and cruelest act was leaving behind her socks. She knew he would have to cum as soon as he saw them, and that he couldn't have Paramedics find him with cum all over himself. That would raise all kinds of questions.
And he could never mention what truly happened as no one would ever believe he was so easily dominated. Surely they would only ever imagine she was acting in self defence against his lecherous advances. He let out a defeated moan as he mentally prepared himself for the torturous walk to the bathroom before calling an ambulance.
Tracey and Nikki walked carefree down the street, side-by-side, hand-in-hand - a perfect vision. Their matching scantily-adjusted school uniforms forming every inch of a perfect wet dream.
An ambulance wailed past the pair, sirens blaring. The driver paused to study the girls as he passed, the familiar rush of blood to his member made him shift uncomfortably. He forced himself to focus on his work and promised himself he would picture the young girls once he was finally back in the shower after work, away from his nagging wife.
"You think that's for him?" Nikki chimed.
"Probably," Tracey exhaled.
Nikki paused in thought, "Do you think he can still have kids?"
"Who cares."
"I think I'm going to blow him anyway."
"You slut," Tracey teased. "I suppose it wouldn't be hard to fit that whole thing in your mouth."
"Shut up," retorted Nikki. "You're the one that left him your socks to jerk off with."
Tracey paused in thought, why had she left her socks? Did she like the idea of him jerking to her? Did she pity him? Or did she actually care for Mr Smith after all?
No, she quickly reminded herself. She was only to be dicked down by alphas.
"Don't blow him, Nikki. Your mouth is for alpha cocks."
Nikki sulked, deflated but resolute.
"Now that we've got Mr Smith by the balls," she smiled cruelly, "how much do you think a teacher's salary would be split between us?"
Nikki immediately brightened at the possibility.
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