Classmates' Revenge

Chapter Two-2

“This really is impressive,” she allowed. The slower she pumped, the tighter she squeezed, until his breath began to wheeze. “What do you call it? Don’t lie to me now. Every guy has a pet name for his prick. Especially a specimen like this.”

“The – ssst! – the snake. Sometimes the water moccasin or cottonmouth. Because they’re endemic to the marsh, get it? Or at least the swamps.”

“Why not the anaconda? He’s certainly long and thick enough.”

“Being boastful – oh! – might tempt fate to blight me with impotence or something.”

Carrie laughed with evil glee.

“Or something! Fate might do worse than that! Lie back flat teacher, and close your eyes. I intend to perform fellatio upon this fearsome serpent of yours. And after I’ve proved myself superior to it, we’ll begin to live out all of your maddest schoolhouse fantasies…”

Though he hated to lose his view of those boobs (to say nothing of the sight of those luscious lips enclosing him), Ed did as he’d been directed. Carrie’s sanctuary; Carrie’s rules. Almost immediately he was engulfed entirely. Right to the root this angel took him in (no one had ever even attempted this) and Ed cried out in flabbergasted stupefaction.

Sweet Jesus, how could heaven get any better?

***

There were very few doors in the master suite, or in any of the main living areas.

Everything was open and airy, one room blending into another. Even the bath and wardrobes relied on planned angles for line-of-sight privacy. The exceptions here were a maid’s closet and a small office, where one might wish for increased quiet. Carrie had taken over the latter upon moving back in, just as she had the whole suite. Here her desktop computer and loads of associated electronics had been set up. And here Julie waited, looking over Tara’s shoulder at the largest video display. Any minute now…

There were three cameras installed around the bed: one in each corner of the headboard and the last tucked into a statuary niche for a wider, higher vantage. Julie had helped Carrie set up the system almost as soon as they’d moved in, with the intent of documenting their own escapades. They’d already stored terabytes of such adventures over the years, sharing and comparing their exploits when separated by college or vacation as well. Tara was now switching between the three recordings being made, refining each of the images. The bedroom was as dimly lit as the rest of the mansion but she and the equipment were equal to it.

They could already see everything beautifully. And though they had the audio lowered for secrecy’s sake, every moan and gasp came through crystal clear too. Watching Carrie ravenously attacking the ‘snake’ of their soon-to-be slave, Julie found herself respiring just as heavily as he was. Envying them both, the next thing she knew she was caressing her half-bared boobs.

While Tara wore classic dominatrix garb – a diamond-patterned body harness of black leather straps – Julie’s outfit was more purposeful. She’d squeezed her midriff into a tight white corset (shiny vinyl for her) that emphasized her hourglass while hiding a lot of her welts. The rest were disguised by the filmy silk robe (black) that she’d belted about her partway open.

Unlike Tara who still wore her signature above-the-knee f**k-you boots, Julie was barefoot – the better to creep up on you, my dear. After Carrie told Marsh to lie back and close his eyes (and the cameras confirmed his obedience) Julie gave him a minute to become suitably enraptured. Then as Tara rose and went to sorting through the large wheeled trunk in which Carrie stored and transported her fetish gear, she judged the moment had come.

“All right. Here I go.”

“Knocker ‘em dead, kid. No wait, don’t. Save some of him for the rest of the summer.”

“No promises. See you in a few.”

Just to be safe Julie muted the computer completely. Then as stealthily as she could she slipped through the door into the bedchamber.

She was on the far side of the suite from Carrie, who was using her extensive b***h-practice to distract Marsh admirably. The carpet was far too plush for Julie’s tread to register; the massive bed so solidly pegged together that no tremors disturbed the lovers when she eased her way on.

Perhaps not even an earthquake could have done that. Carrie was bobbing and gobbling like a woodpecker on meth. Ed Marsh had his hands fisted in black satin, his eyes squinched shut and his teeth bared and clenched. Groans and whimpers leaked though these. It wasn’t until Julie’s hundred and seventy-some pounds had crawled right up behind his head that her displacement of the mattress alerted their new b***h to an additional mistress. By then it was too late.

His eyes popped wide – an act of defiance! His mouth opened to exclaim but Julie clamped hers over it in an upside-down lip-lock so voracious it smacked of vampirism. The fool tried to mumble through her devouring and she drove her tongue in deep. After that he gave up and engaged. Julie schooled her elder then, soul-smooching him emphatically onto the defensive. After establishing supremacy thus she broke away to falsetto down in a breathy child’s treble.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to interrupt! I heard a scary noise and came to see if Mistress Carrie had made it home safely. And oh my privates, how dare she not share!

“I remember you from school, Master Teacher. You were a very dirty old pervert. You used to gawk at my boobs worse than the pimpliest wimp! Maybe I should pay you back for that. You know, in the spirit of ‘be careful what you wish for’.” Suddenly adult Julie was back snarling. “Maybe I should just punish your presumption by smothering you with these motherly jugs!”

With that she unbelted her robe – leaving the cleverly prepared sash hanging handy. Draping their prey in that Stygian shroud she moved in, burying him as well in the abyss between her t**s. And though those pendulant bellows were ample enough to asphyxiate anyone, Julie only pinned him to the bed within their head-enveloping bounty until he began to jerk spastically.

Of course Carrie was still slurping away at that aptly-appellated cottonmouth. She wasn’t letting him inject his venom, so this couldn’t signify orgasm but only desperation. Julie let her victim buck and struggle a minute more before at last pulling back. Then once he’d done his explosive gasping she buried him again, this time not to smother but to batter.

Violently twisting her torso she tit-slapped the b***h, the first and surely easiest beating of the hundreds he had coming from them. Damn it felt so great to do this to someone who truly deserved their worst! In order to bring about all those subsequent others though, this miscreant needed to be manipulated a bit. So after that thrillingly vigorous thrashing Julie finally settled her more sensitive left udder over their newest willing milker.

Ed Marsh immediately went to work. He was proficient too, most operose, and the giggles she’d been emitting turned to moans. That made the next part easier. Rewarding how he’d been obediently quiescent in his mistresses’ bed, even through what must’ve been mortal terror, Julie freed his fists from the sheets and placed them on those generously depending suck-jugs. Then she endured Ed’s plundering, ensuring he was too blinded and occupied to recognize Tara now quietly pushing that overloaded luggage trunk across the room. Carrie noticed and looked up though, making eye contact as she so tirelessly impaled herself. Julie groaned, Ed’s squeezing and pawing of her sore whipped t**s unexpectedly as welcome suddenly as his industrious suckling. Too bad. She nodded back. It was time to bring him off so the real party could begin.

Carrie increased her fervency of service to an absolutely manic degree. At the same time she lubed the index finger that was ringing the base of his heft in the expectorate that thickly coated their connection. When Julie saw her slide that slickened digit into Ed’s bum to rub the ol’ come-nubbin – and go into a madly-slavering, nostril-flaring, thick lip-gripping frenzy like only Carrie could – she addressed her own efforts. Recapturing the teacher’s fingers Julie laced hers securely into these. Thanks to all that working out she was the strongest of the three. Then she buried him in her dangle-down again, smothering the ogling schemer even more ruthlessly than before.

For a while he only quivered erratically, played like an instrument by his prostate and p***s. Then he began jerking convulsively like before. Quickly his hands proved stronger than hers. Yet rather than try to wrench free they squeezed, as if merely seeking some anchor in extremity.

Julie sensed tears and sweat wetting her flesh, turning that pitiless press deliciously slippery. The face she held trapped twisted frantically, fruitlessly; adroitly she used her elbows to clamp the criminal in tighter. He could ejaculate or suffocate, it was up to him. That entire shuddering body lurched then and suddenly Carrie was no longer bobbing but had fastened herself flush to Ed’s pubis like a lamprey. With that invader still massaging insidiously away and her other fingers increasingly squeezing what were obviously emptying testes, she was draining that swallowed snake with the rapacity of any parasite, vampire or supernatural succubus.

Glancing up from her smothering, Julie nodded to Tara that the time had arrived. Carrying a set of chromed ankle shackles, she hurried silently around to Carrie’s side. As soon as their alpha female pulled off that glistening prick, using this last long lip-squeezing grip to squeegee up any finishing drips, the group made their move.

While Tara dropped the shackles by Carrie and snatched up the man’s briefs, Julie withdrew her t**s too. With Ed Marsh then whooping in post-orgasmic anoxic addling, she passed one of the hands she still held to her right so that she could manacle both wrists in a single circle of fingers. With her dexterous left then she whipped loose the sash from her robe.

This was already ready with a loop at one end. Bondage enthusiast Julie deftly dropped this over the wrists she gripped. As she yanked tight the slipknot, binding her captive’s hands with a fabric that was airy and yet as strong as any cord, Tara leaped onto the bed to straddle his belly.

Hands trapped, pinned down in a moment of exhausted aftermath – and with Carrie now holding his gonads gripped one in each fist in an entirely convincing coercive double-clench – Marsh could only goggle around at them in timid consternation. Winding that sash securely around her fist, Julie drew his bound arms above his head and compelled his attention.

“Carrie’s bedroom; Carrie’s rules: remember that Mister Teacher? Now, are you going to give your old pupils-become-the-master any trouble while we have our vengeful way with you? Think carefully before answering, despicable criminal. Resistance will see your balls pulped!”

Carrie must have twisted these for emphasis because he grimaced. Perhaps not risking his voice any more than his nuts, Ed Marsh swallowed hard and shook his head.

“Good!” Smug in their victory Julie nodded again to her friends – this time to complete the incapacitation. While Carrie hobbled his ankles with the shackles, Tara did as she’d intended. Balling up those briefs, she jammed them into the b***h’s mouth. Two strips of strapping tape sealed them in and finally it was time for some serious fun!

***

In the wink of an eye – or the spouting of a fountain – every guy’s wildest dream morphed into unmitigated nightmare.

Merely being here had powerfully affected Ed. With Carrie delivering a servicing to shame Aphrodite, he had his initial impression validated. By any myth, definition or synonym this place was heaven. The depthless featherbed itself was Cloud Nine. When Venus-figure Earth-mother Julie miraculously intruded, paradise expanded to permit a pantheon!

From shocked recognition through astounded thrill, blissful blessedness (and uneasy secret preening under his supreme conquests’ unsettling hints and aggression) Ed succumbed to soaring euphoria, perversely arousing panic and mind-obliterating ecstasy by turns – or even all at once.

Never in his extensive reign of conquests had there been such an intensity to s*x. It was no-s**t transcendent to the extent of representing a kind of spiritual awakening. When at the apogee he was nearly asphyxiated, voraciously fellated (and shamefully violated) to the most wrenching apotheosis imaginable he was left exquisitely susceptible. The subsequent visitation dispelled any hesitation tainting his recently received convictions of divinity. He was just too busy glorying in head-spinning ascension. In fact he was already decided on conniving a way to inhabit this Olympus indefinitely. He’d just won Pascal’s wager by grooming these two and…