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I felt the boys' eyes on me. They all thought I was sexy. I knew it. I would never admit it, but I drank in their attention, loving their eyes on me. I knew they called me the "Hot-Ass Latina Teacher." I felt my rump swaying in the tight, black skirt I was wearing today.
I liked my nickname. Something else I would never admit.
I swept into my classroom. It was teaching freshman history first. A general study on European history and the lead into the American Revolution. Many of the students were already in their seats. I glanced at them, my glossy, black hair swaying about my face.
"Morning," I said to the students. Several answered back.
I sat down at my desk and set about getting it ready. The analog clock ticking away above the door brought the start of the lesson closer and closer. The traffic in the hallway thinned. I squirmed and then heard footsteps racing up. Students who were cutting it close to reaching their class on time.
A moment later, two of my students burst in. Chloe and Stacey both had flushed faces. They panted and burst into giggles as the warning bell rang right behind them. I shook my head at the pair of eighteen-year-old vixens as they rushed to their desks, the pair of them immediately whispering.
"Ladies," I said, giving them a look, "is it okay if I teach, or would you like to continue your conversation?"
Stacey blushed but Chloe, to my shock, had a flick of irritation. Like she didn't appreciate being admonished. That was unusual for the quiet and polite girl. Then she smiled and I swear something wicked gleamed in her blue eyes.
"Sorry, Ms. Escamilla," chimed Chloe. "You may teach us."
I tightened my brow at that. She was giving me permission? What had changed about that girl?
I pushed it back into my mind and reminded myself to watch her. A change in behavior could mean something had disrupted her family life or other problems had arisen. I wanted to make sure I mentored my students. They were all important to me.
I launched into my lesson, lecturing on the collapse of the Western Roman Empire at the hands of various barbarian tribes such as the Vandals. The students were getting that bored look in their eyes, so I switched over to a discussion midway through, asking questions, trying to gauge how much they were absorbing the material.
Some of them were quite inquisitive. It was always refreshing to have conversations and even debates on what the Romans might have done to stop their fall. It was the sad fact of history that every great empire collapsed one day. The generation that made them great was always followed by weaker and weaker ones until something new took its place.
"And that will lead us into what's called the dark ages, though it was truly not as dark as some say," I said. "We'll begin our talks on the lead up to Charlemagne the Great and the Muslim invasions of North Africa and into Iberia." I paused, smiling. "That's modern Spain. Please, read chapter 5. Enjoy your day."
Chloe came up to me with a white box with a purple ribbon on it. The sort of box that clothing came in. I was more than a little shocked when she handed it to me and said, "Sorry for being late and talking. It's just been a super exciting day. I have something for you. I think you're going to love it. Please, please, open it at lunch."
"Okay," I said, feeling a little uncertain. Had she bought me a scarf or something? Did the girl have a crush on me? That could happen at her age. Usually, it was with a male professor, but the reverse was true. I remembered my own flings with lesbianism as a schoolgirl, exploring things, before I found out that I just liked guys better.
Dicks beat pussy every time.
"Thanks," I said, being polite. "Now you better get going. You don't want to be late for your next class."
"Nope," she said and hurried out. I shook my head and then glanced at it. I set it to the side on my desk as my next group of students piled in.
I had a few more hours before lunch and a break to check out what she'd gotten me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mildred Dean
I strode into work feeling like a new woman. I had the box with the last pair of panties tucked beneath my arm. I knew just who to give it to. My futa-cock throbbed in my regular panties, my skirt whisking about my thighs.
I clutched my hand about my mind-controlling panties, the cloth wet and delicious.
"Morning, Mildred," my friend, Kyra, said. The brunette was the only friend I had. Over the years, she had chipped through all my defenses, my fear of dealing with strangers, with her bubbly enthusiasm. She had made me feel welcome. "You look... different."
"I feel different," I said and hugged her with fierce passion. She stiffened at that and then embraced me back. I felt the warmth of her. My futa-dick twitched as I ground it against her.
"Eh... this is nice," she said. "But, um, what is that digging into me."
"My futa-cock," I said and broke the hug. I smiled at her and then shoved my panties in her face.
She gasped for a moment and then she groaned, breathing in the smell, falling under my mind-control. She swayed there for a moment, inhaling my musk. She let out such rich and throaty sounds that were an utter delight to listen to.
"Wow," she said. "That scent is a rush."
"I know," I said. "It's why I'm so confident. Kyra, you're such a wonderful woman. I'm going to do something special for you. I want you to think about any woman you know, any woman at all, that you want to be your lesbian sex slave. I'll make sure she's yours."
"Oh, wow," she said. "My own lesbian sex slave..." She blinked. "What will she do for me?"
"Lick your pussy, massage your back. Whatever you want her to do." I smiled at my friend. "Take some time and think about it. It has to be someone I can speak to, though, so don't say Margot Robbie or anything."
"Oh, right," she said. "A lesbian sex slave... I've never had a woman eat my pussy before."
"You'll love it," I said and kept moving.
Maybe I should give these panties to Kyra for being such a great friend, but they deserved to belong to someone more dynamic. Someone who would use them to their fullest. Someone driven and powerful. I shuddered as I strode through the cubicles.
"Good morning, Mildred," said Minako. The Japanese secretary gave me a soft smile. "This is a surprise. Do you need anything?"
"Need to speak to Ms. Pearce," I said, panties clutched in my hand. "I have something for her that she needs to see right away."
"Oh, well, let me call and see if she can see you. She's on the phone right now, so it'll be a few..." Minako's words trailed off as I marched forward with confidence. "Mildred?"
"I don't have time to waste," I said, my futa-cock throbbing.
I thrust open the door to find Athena Pearce sitting at her desk on a leather chair. An executive's chair. It radiated power, just like the dark furniture, the shelves with the books, the small liquor cabinet, and the large windows looking out at the city. She spoke on the phone, her eyes narrowing on me.
She wore her black hair in a professional manner, her face serious and beautiful all at the same time. Lips a vibrant red. Her gaze swept over me. Normally, I would be quaking at such scrutiny, but I had my panties.
"I have to call you back," she said and hung up. "Mildred, what are you doing? Is this more of your... conditions at work."
"Yes," I said and tossed my wet panties at her.
To be continued...
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