Dr. Carla Lamen (age 39) smiled at Brooke, a sophomore she had failed in her Psych 101 course last Fall. The girl's final paper was absurd: 'How Hot Gurlz Have It Rough'. It took no time at all for her to give that paper the F it deserved.
Except the worthiness of that F didn't sit right with Brooke. Or the academic review board. Or the local press. Throughout the following Spring, her grading process underwent rigorous critique toward an obvious conclusion that she didn't bother to judge the paper on its merits. Her future at Hard Peaks College looked bleak until Brooke made an offer she couldn't refuse.
"Yo, check out the tits on that bimbo!"
To the random boy's bawdy comment, Carla grinned wide and excitedly waved. "Thankies! I love my pretty boobies too."
Ugh. Bad enough she had to serve as Brooke's 'hot gurl' mentee this Fall, but the conditions under which she lived the life clearly went beyond reason. When she agreed, Carla never expected Brooke to fully control her dress, her speech, her free time, everything. All pretense of this as a diversity learning experience flew out the window the moment Brooke made her put on a decorative collar and expose her cleavage for watchful horny college boys. This was about revenge.
Speaking of revenge, a principal actor in the scheme arrived with books in arms. "Hey Brooke, how's your dumbass pet doing?"
Natalie. Another student Carla had written up, in her case for plagiarism. When the scandal first hit, Natalie had quickly befriended Brooke and bounced about ideas that still tormented Carla to this day.
"Badly, but what can you expect from a boob brain?" Brooke answered. "She's probably thinking of cock right now."
Sadly, Carla was, but not entirely by choice. A special concoction of drugs left her constantly horned up and down to fuck, pussy wet and nipples hard. Brooke's excuse? To reproduce the physical effect of raging hormones that a typical freshman hot gurl felt while taking classes. Her clit practically vibed for touch she had to deny under Brooke's orders to, in her words, 'take [her] studies seriously'. She couldn't even jill off without permission because it wasted precious energy.
The girls could play with her though. Like how Natalie scooted up next to Dr. Lamen and stuck a hand down her blouse, squeezing a boob. Carla moaned with the electrifying brush of skin on skin, as a finger rimmed her aureole.
"Please..." Carla begged.
"Please what?" Natalie said.
"Please Ms. Mears, I need to study."
"Like that's gonna do you any good."
Natalie pinched, and Carla seized, arching her back while her tits popped out of her blouse. Natalie took the opportunity to grab both handfuls and bounce them up and down. "Hi, I'm Dr. Lamen and I'm soooo smart. I'm a real profuckshional!"
"Stop," Brooke laughed.
But Natalie persisted, treating the perky pink teats like accusing fingers. "Now you see here, young lady. I'm way too old and this stick is too deep up my ass for my own good. I could use a man but noone wants to fuck me so I'll take it out on you!"
Red-faced, Carla peered down her chest at her melons getting manhandled for a bit of puppetry. She could only let it happen, shamed and raging, vein pulsing in her forehead. Like all the other times, if she complained, they would explain it as part of the suffering endured by 'hot gurls' across the country. She would get dismissed, Brooke and Natalie would find some fiendish way to punish her, and her bimbo life would go on.
"Okay, okay, that's enough," Brooke insisted. "We're due at the auditorium."
Carla shot upright. She knew what it meant. Pop progress day. A chance for the student body to see Brooke's progress on her mentee's re-education. Closing her book, she slipped her pencil into its designated spot - right into her cleavage - and awaited Brooke's command to follow.
This would be a long day.
Reblogged
Sent!
This blog contains adult content. In order to view it freely, please log in or register
and confirm you are 18 years or older
Dr. Carla Lamen (age 39) smiled at Brooke, a sophomore she had failed in her Psych 101 course last Fall. The girl's final paper was absurd: 'How Hot Gurlz Have It Rough'. It took no time at all for her to give that paper the F it deserved.
Except the worthiness of that F didn't sit right with Brooke. Or the academic review board. Or the local press. Throughout the following Spring, her grading process underwent rigorous critique toward an obvious conclusion that she didn't bother to judge the paper on its merits. Her future at Hard Peaks College looked bleak until Brooke made an offer she couldn't refuse.
"Yo, check out the tits on that bimbo!"
To the random boy's bawdy comment, Carla grinned wide and excitedly waved. "Thankies! I love my pretty boobies too."
Ugh. Bad enough she had to serve as Brooke's 'hot gurl' mentee this Fall, but the conditions under which she lived the life clearly went beyond reason. When she agreed, Carla never expected Brooke to fully control her dress, her speech, her free time, everything. All pretense of this as a diversity learning experience flew out the window the moment Brooke made her put on a decorative collar and expose her cleavage for watchful horny college boys. This was about revenge.
Speaking of revenge, a principal actor in the scheme arrived with books in arms. "Hey Brooke, how's your dumbass pet doing?"
Natalie. Another student Carla had written up, in her case for plagiarism. When the scandal first hit, Natalie had quickly befriended Brooke and bounced about ideas that still tormented Carla to this day.
"Badly, but what can you expect from a boob brain?" Brooke answered. "She's probably thinking of cock right now."
Sadly, Carla was, but not entirely by choice. A special concoction of drugs left her constantly horned up and down to fuck, pussy wet and nipples hard. Brooke's excuse? To reproduce the physical effect of raging hormones that a typical freshman hot gurl felt while taking classes. Her clit practically vibed for touch she had to deny under Brooke's orders to, in her words, 'take [her] studies seriously'. She couldn't even jill off without permission because it wasted precious energy.
The girls could play with her though. Like how Natalie scooted up next to Dr. Lamen and stuck a hand down her blouse, squeezing a boob. Carla moaned with the electrifying brush of skin on skin, as a finger rimmed her aureole.
"Please..." Carla begged.
"Please what?" Natalie said.
"Please Ms. Mears, I need to study."
"Like that's gonna do you any good."
Natalie pinched, and Carla seized, arching her back while her tits popped out of her blouse. Natalie took the opportunity to grab both handfuls and bounce them up and down. "Hi, I'm Dr. Lamen and I'm soooo smart. I'm a real profuckshional!"
"Stop," Brooke laughed.
But Natalie persisted, treating the perky pink teats like accusing fingers. "Now you see here, young lady. I'm way too old and this stick is too deep up my ass for my own good. I could use a man but noone wants to fuck me so I'll take it out on you!"
Red-faced, Carla peered down her chest at her melons getting manhandled for a bit of puppetry. She could only let it happen, shamed and raging, vein pulsing in her forehead. Like all the other times, if she complained, they would explain it as part of the suffering endured by 'hot gurls' across the country. She would get dismissed, Brooke and Natalie would find some fiendish way to punish her, and her bimbo life would go on.
"Okay, okay, that's enough," Brooke insisted. "We're due at the auditorium."
Carla shot upright. She knew what it meant. Pop progress day. A chance for the student body to see Brooke's progress on her mentee's re-education. Closing her book, she slipped her pencil into its designated spot - right into her cleavage - and awaited Brooke's command to follow.
This would be a long day.