This story is dedicated to a breathtaking American teacher, a MILF whose beauty knows no bounds. This story is for you, and your secret desire for a lesson.

Weeks passed, and then we met. Her deepest, darkest desires were about to be fulfilled. She'd wear the lingerie I'd bought and had delivered to her. A stunning black lace bodysuit, open crotch and chest, revealing her feminine curves. Nothing else but the body and a long coat to conceal it all. And to top it off, tall black boots.

I signaled her that I was there, lurking around the corner of her building. Three minutes later, she emerged. She was even more beautiful in person than in the photos she’d sent. Stepping into the car, she playfully threw open her coat, giving me a glimpse of her breasts. The dress clung to her perfectly. She was a little nervous. As I started the engine, heading towards our destination, I made small talk to put her at ease. It worked, and she began to relax. After forty-five minutes, we arrived at our location.

The building stood alone in the woods. "The Swing Inn" was etched into the weathered wood, a subtle nod to its purpose. A bar for those with a penchant for the darker side of pleasure. I saw the excitement in her eyes. This was what she'd been dreaming of for years. I parked the car and grabbed my bag. From it, I pulled a collar, a leash, and a bone-shaped gag. The tools to transform her into my pet for the evening.

I fastened the collar around her neck, connected the leash, and slipped the gag into her mouth. "On your hands and knees," I commanded, pulling her behind me. We entered the bar, heads turning in our direction. The familiar nods and compliments on my new acquisition filled the air. I strode to the bar, ordering a drink. Your cocktail, served in an iron cup on a stand, was accessible through a hole in your gag.

The bartender placed a sign on a stand near me. I set it down beside you. You glanced at the words. They read: "Buy my owner a drink and you can use me." A mix of excitement and nervousness washed over you as you read it. But you decided to trust him. He knew your desires, your limits. It didn't take long. About half an hour later, a man in leather strode towards the bar.

He asked me somewhat shyly what I would like to drink and ordered it along with a glass of champagne. He humbly brought the champagne to a woman dressed entirely in leather. It was beginning to dawn on me. He was the slave, she the mistress. He returned, his face flushed. "My mistress has commanded me to masturbate and spill my seed upon your pet," he mumbled. "Go ahead," I replied, feigning boredom.

He stood before my pet, working to harden his member. It took a moment. Clearly, he was inexperienced. But after a few minutes, his cock was rigid enough to handle. Shyness battled with lust as his breaths quickened. My pet watched, enthralled. She craved the seed, any seed. He stepped forward, his cock hovering near her mouth. Instinctively, she opened wide. Thick streams of cum shot into, and past, her lips. Post-orgasm, shyness returned, and he retreated. My pet licked the cum from her chin, wasting not a drop.

I'd just finished my drink when an elderly couple, completely naked, approached the bar. Without a word, they ordered me another. The man walked over to my pet and roughly pulled her to her hands and knees. His wife took his cock into her mouth until it hardened. Then, he positioned himself behind her and forcefully thrust his rather large member into her. A loud yelp escaped my pet's lips. She hadn't felt something that big in a long time. A prelude to the stretching that awaited her.

As the man’s rough thrusts continued, my pet was pulled at her hair by the wife. Her voice, soft and sweet, pleaded for a taste of her wet cavern. Unable to resist, my pet obeyed, her tongue working with eager devotion. Below, the pet’s core was being punished by the man’s massive member. The unspoken rule of the bar was clear: no release inside another man’s woman her cunt. Experience had taught me that the man’s forceful assault couldn’t last forever. And so it was. With a grunt, he withdrew, leaving my pet yearning for more.

He then shoved his wife aside. Disappointment was etched on her face too. She’d clearly been close, for she slid onto the stool next to me and roughly began to pleasure herself. Her husband, meanwhile, had slipped his member into my pet’s mouth. She was able to take most of it without gagging. Soon after, she received his second load. A moan escapes from his wife as she finishes herself off. As she stood, a puddle formed on the stool.

As I savored the last drops of my whiskey, the evening's entertainment began. Once a month, the bar hosted an amateur BDSM night. This was what I wanted my pet to see. The first act was a wanking battle between two mistresses and their slaves. The first slave to climax was anally penetrated by the other. Next up was a couple enjoying anal sex Both the woman and the man took a dick/dildo in their ass.

Now, for the final act," the host announced. She heard him clearly: "Please give a warm welcome to our regular guest, G., and his new pet." His new pet. That was her. The next act. She'd always dreamed of being on a talent show, but this was something else entirely. There was no time to think. A tug on the leash, and she was crawling towards the stage.

I lowered her onto her hands and knees on the stage. A nod was all I needed. A gallon of lubricant was handed to me. I loved a good show. Raising my fist, I claimed her as mine, a symbolic gesture of dominance and the prelude to what was to come. I generously applied the lubricant to her core, though she was already slick with anticipation.

One finger, then two, then three. I gave her a moment to adjust. I forbade her to come. She whimpered, her body yearning for release. Three fingers were nothing new to her, so I added a fourth. She was reaching her limit, her cries filling the room. I wanted her to scream louder, for everyone to hear. I denied her, reveling in her desperation as the crowd cheered.

It was time for the fifth, for the fist. Slowly, carefully, my thumb found its place. Inch by inch, my fist slid inside her. With a nod, I gave her the signal, she was allowed to get her climax. I began to thrust, deeper and deeper. Primal moans and screams filled the room. Her orgasm was building. Rougher and faster, I moved. She was lost in pleasure, her cries wild and uninhibited. She came, hard and loud.

Consciousness returned as I removed my hand. Her gaze darted around the room. But the most embarrassing part was still to come. The grand finale with the pet. The audience paid for spectacles like this, and the performers shared the earnings. For her, it meant a humiliating display: crawling on all fours, a bowl in her mouth, begging for coins.

The takings were generous; each of the three acts had earned a hundred and fifty dollars. More than usual, the owner informed me. I complimented my pet. She blushed slightly. She wanted to give me the money, but I whispered in her ear that she should buy herself a remote toy. That way, I could play with her more often. We left the venue and headed home. But I’d make one extra stop. She had one last task: to taste my seed.