I recognized all the symptoms for what they were - unmistakable signs of an addiction that would inevitable blow apart my world. But like a heroin addict anticipating their next shot, I trembled with unfulfilled need. My heart was still tortured by images I had conjured up of my beloved Queen Bee and the intriguing, exotic Natalia, tortured by the depraved games had I imagined their beautiful bodies playing with each other’s, while I had lain alone on the wooden stage and worshipped my Goddess with my fingers in my cunt.
Yes, cunt. The days when I lovingly called it ‘kitten’, ‘pussy’ or even playfully ‘snatch’, were in the past. A love-hate relationship with it had taken hold, now that I had allowed it to become the centerpiece of my existence and the dictator of my decisions.
I hated the swollen state in which it was all day even if I didn’t stroke it to life, and I hated that I could not control the wetness that seeped down my thighs as soon as I thought of my sweet, ruthless student. But most of all, I loved it, because the intensity of the feelings it had given me had transcended everything I thought I knew about fulfillment. And every single tingling, dripping, clenching moment reminded me of that pleasure.
I looked at the plate of cold, half-eaten spaghetti in front of me and sighed. How long had I been away in that other world again? Five minutes? Ten? Half an hour? I couldn’t say. But my hand had made its way dangerously close to my cunt, my fingers only a fraction of an inch away from stirring the pink, boiling vortex of desire there.
Need. I had never been able to appreciate the all-encompassing quality of that word. Now I knew exactly how intense it could be. Need, that was what I felt for Cordelia’s closeness, for her touch - and for her mean games of teasing and embarrassment.
I thought it was silly, a behavior befitting of a teenager, but my fingers nonetheless picked up my cellphone and started to type a text. I had to erase each word a few times before I got the spelling right, and after what felt like ages, I quickly pressed the send button before I could get second thoughts.
“My Goddess to whom I pray, my Sun around which I revolve! I need you so much. Every fiber of my being yearns for you. I am going crazy without you. I love you.”
As soon as the phone announced that it had sent the message, pangs of shame and guilt rocked through me. I was disassembling myself for her.
Still, hardly a minute went by where I didn’t glance at the screen of my silent phone, willing it to blink and beep to tell me she had read my devoted message and found it worthy of being answered.
Unable to do anything productive around the house, I ripped off my clothes and threw myself onto the bed, rolling up into a ball and rocking with desire, hands clenched to keep them from breaking the promise to stay chaste that I had given her before she had driven off.
* * * * *
Hours later - hours filled with tossing and turning in futile flight from reality - there finally was the expected beep, and my hands snatched the phone, only to fumble like wooden sticks when I tried to unlock it. My heart clenched, because her message contained only one word.
“Good.”
My desperation washed over me in crushing waves, but even this one word of cruel, teasing arrogance managed to make the muscles in my cunt clench in eager submission.
I was on all fours on my bed, naked and with my bum high up in the air, the cellphone in front of me while my elbows rested on the mattress. Like a cat in heat, I realized, but that only drew up images of the latex-clad cat woman at Natalia’s exhibition and increased the throbbing emptiness between my thighs.
It was the longest Sunday of my life, and the night didn’t turn out to be much better. Sleep was a luxury that only came in short, troubled episodes, and when dawn finally broke, I needed a third cup of coffee to find my bearings.
* * * * *
The five minutes in the staff room had been hell. Only half of the crowd was already there, but each cheerful greeting and each pair of eyes that flickered towards me dug deeply into me and almost had me stammering. One of them had witnessed my depraved performance, and I had no idea who it was.
Anthony, who gave P.E. and biology and was well-known as a womanizer? But he seemed to be more interested in getting a cup coffee from the huffing, steam-blowing, near-dead machine someone had brought with them years ago than in me. Or Mr. Stone, our reserved principal, about whom it was whispered that he had a thing for fragile ballet dancers?
“Budge over,” Melinda Brooktree’s deep voice almost bellowed in my ear, and when I took a step to the side to let her through to her desk and looked a bit intimidated at her, she studied me for a moment, appearing puzzled. Thank god she didn’t inquire, and I chastised myself when I caught my thoughts wandering into forbidden territory where the overweight chemistry teacher who was ten years my senior was playing a nude lead role.
I fled the confines of the staff room as soon as I could, quickly closing the classroom door behind me, leaning back to take a deep breath in the short solitude before the first students arrived.
* * * * *
“Good morning, Miss Wilkins!”
I was quite early, as was usual for me on Mondays, and I jumped when I found my own chair occupied. My heart picked up speed, and when I saw Cordelia sit there, the white, skin-tight summer dress with pink stitching hugging her form with absolute perfection, I could only respond with a quiet, trembling gasp.
She was lounging in the chair like she owned the place - yes, somehow she did, at least far more than I did - and her right foot rested lazily on the top of the desk, wrapped in delicate bands of white leather and arched high above a needle-thin heel. Her pink-painted toes waved invitingly at me when she saw me look.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked, the playful smirk on her lips belying the compassionate sound of her voice. “Did you dream of me and all the things Natalia and I did last night?”
I tried to answer and tell her that this was not the time and place for this discussion, but I didn’t get the chance. Winking at me, she splayed her left knee to the side until it pointed straight at me, and the hem of her dress slid down and exposed her perfect thighs, until only an inch of fabric covered her crotch from my greedy eyes.
She beckoned me closer with a crooked finger.
“This is too risky,” I told her even while I approached with hesitant steps. “Please, you said you wanted to keep me around. We’ll get caught! They will fire me. What then?”
“I’ve given you a promise on Saturday that I’ve failed to keep,” she said, completely ignoring my plea. “I don’t want to be called a liar.”
My breath got stuck in my throat when she pulled up her skirt even more, and her naked, glorious plum glistened in the morning light that fell through the windows.
For a moment, she smiled brightly at the look of fascination on my face, but then she bit her lip and her eyes took on a faraway look. Her right index finger slid down between her legs and pressed ever so slightly inwards between her puffy labia.
“God,” she sighed with half-closed eyelids, “if you could see yourself, the look of absolute need on your face is so sexy!”
“Stop,” I pleaded once more, half-heartedly. “We’ll get caught!”
But then her finger sunk deeper, vanished in the wetness of her sex millimeter by millimeter. Her eyelids fluttered.
“You’re trembling,” she commented, sounding out of breath. “It’s so empowering to know that I am doing this to you.”
Her finger was in all the way, up to the last knuckle, and her small, breathless whimpers rang through the air like tiny wind chimes. In her youthful perfection, she may well be the queen of the fairies, and her chiming sounds of delight the music to her folk’s magical dance. This was so incredibly sensual. Goosebumps raced up and down my spine, and I wanted to fall to my knees and tell her how perfect everything about her was.
Her thoughts weren’t that far from mine, obviously, because she pulled her finger free and held it up for me to see in all its honey-coated, glistening glory.
“Kneel,” she whispered, barely audible and yet so full of determination, “and you can taste me.”
I felt like a charmed snake when she held out her finger at my waist height, and there was no resisting the compulsion to follow her orders unquestioningly. I sunk to my knees and leaned forward, my eyes riveted to the shiny digit that carried the sweet juice from her folds. We both shuddered in pleasure when my lips wrapped around it and my tongue tasted the musky deliciousness, and she moaned when I softly began to suckle on it.
“Good teacher,” she encouraged and stroked my hair with her free hand, triggering another warm wave of submissive delight. “Keep sucking and don’t move, no matter what happens. Can you do that for me?”
No! I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. I nodded, a slightly slurping sound escaping around her soft finger.
Panic gripped me at the clicking sound of the opening door. Cordelia just shook her head and smiled at me. Then footsteps could be heard, one, two, at least three pairs of feet coming closer from behind. The door clicked shut again, but my moment of relief was short-lived when another pair of feet approached, punctuating the air around me with the hard staccato of high heels even while Cordelia’s gaggle of friends entered my line of sight.
Eireen and Monica took up a seat on my desk to my left. Lisette and Kaila stood behind Cordelia, whispering between each other.
Which meant one thing - the person who approached and came to a stop right behind was an unknown.
“Welcome,” Cordelia greeted the newcomer with a dramatic gesture. “I hope you enjoy the little exhibition here.”
My head tried to turn so I could take a glance at the stranger. Questions raced through my mind. Was it another of my students? Or one of the teachers, the one who had watched me two days ago? My cheeks burst into flames, and Cordelia’s hand on my chin halted my movement.
“Tut, tut,” she admonished. “No movement, I said! Keep sucking. Or don’t you like my pussy’s honey?”
I quickly resumed my duty, which earned me a satisfied smile.
“She’s quite the eager thing.” Cordelia told our ‘guest’ with a grin. “But you’ve already seen that yourself.
The suppressed chuckle from behind that accompanied the embarrassed shivers I felt was not enough to take a guess who she might be, but it was clear that she was the one who had watched me. It was a woman, at least, and not one of the testosterone-driven wanna-be bulls.
There was a short pause in the talking, and I could only wonder with trepidation what would happen next. The clock was ticking, and there wasn’t all that much left of the twenty minutes I had thought I had until my students would file in. I looked pleadingly at Cordelia, and when she caught my stare, I pointed my eyes into the direction of the clock above the blackboard.
“My teacher-slut is fearful she might get caught,” Cordelia explained to the others and drew giggles. “Go ahead,” she then told the woman behind me, “just like we discussed.”
Fabric rustled for a moment where the stranger stood, then there was a little pause. I did expect some kind of touch, but when fingernails trailed up both my thighs and the hem of my skirt followed the movement, I gasped nonetheless.
There is something so sexy in feeling my skirt lifted and feeling the cool air touch the exposed parts of my bum cheeks, something that was strong enough to balance the shame I felt at that moment. When her fingers deftly pushed under the waistband of my panties and made their way towards my sopping cunt, my hips rocked involuntarily.
“See, eager, just as I said.” Cordelia’s voice dripped with amusement.
Something pressed against the entrance to my cunt.
