Immoral Counseling

Author's Note: All characters are 18 years of age or older.

The dismissal bell rang while Ms. Iverson was still going over her reminders, but the students rushed from class anyway, paying her no mind. As a small group of her classmates congregated around their teacher, Lacy felt a hand slip around her waist from behind. Hannah stood beside her, her tie loose around her neck with the top of her shirt unbuttoned, exposing her deep cleavage. Gold hoop earrings glinted behind the auburn hair framing her face. Lacy smiled and wrapped her arm around her friend.

"Girl, I can't believe you're back in Weaver's office again," Hannah said. "Aren't you done with your assignments?"

"Mostly, but he's helping me get ready for college, too."

"Don't you think it's weird? I've never heard of a counselor doing so much for a student."

Lacy chewed her lip.

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it -- an old man and a young girl, alone, no one around to stop him from having his way."

"Gross! This isn't some trashy drama show -- Weaver's not like that."

"I'm just saying, if it were me, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off this sexy ass," Hannah said, flipping up the back of Lacy's skirt and spanking her bare bottom, exposing her rose pink cheeky panties in the process.

Lacy gasped, her face reddening as she clenched her anus, while their teacher coughed behind them. The other students had already left.

"Sorry, Ms. Iverson," Hannah said while Lacy smoothed down her skirt. She hoped neither of them noticed anything.

"Honestly, I'm more worried about being alone with you," Lacy said as the two friends beat a hasty exit.

As they walked together, the conversation turned to other topics. Graduation, the summer, college tours, and of course, Hannah's favorite subject -- gossip. Most of it was pointless drivel, but when she mentioned that McKayla caught her boyfriend cheating and they broke up, Lacy tried to react naturally. Internally, she couldn't help thinking about how devastated Simon would be if he ever caught her with Weaver. It made her queasy, so she quickly changed the subject. The two walked together chatting until Hannah had to turn towards the buses while Lacy continued on to Weaver's office. With each step, she felt her anticipation building.

When she arrived, he was talking to a parent over the phone. After dropping her purse and bag off on the couch, she touched up her makeup and looked around the room. Like all the staff offices, it was large and spacious -- big enough to contain his desk, two sofa chairs, a side table, the table and chairs where she did her homework, and the couch and coffee table where she got fucked. She'd spent a lot of time in this office over the past few months, and she was starting to feel wistful about it as the year wound down. When he first started blackmailing her, she couldn't have imagined that in just a few short months she'd become his willing rapeslut. That those awful experiences would become cherished memories.

After his conversation ended, he hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply and scooting back from the desk. She put away her palette while he closed down his computer.

"All done?" she asked.

"For today. How was class?"

"Long and boring," she replied, loosening her tie.

Locking eyes with him, she made a show of unbuttoning the top buttons of her shirt, letting the lace trim of her pink bra peek out. With a look, he beckoned her closer. As she came around to his side of the desk, she stopped short at the sight of a familiar head of brown hair bobbing in his lap.

"What the fuck?" she exclaimed. "Becca?"

The brunette froze at her name, but with a hand on the back of her head, Weaver silently bid her to continue. Lacy heard soft suckling sounds coming from her mouth as her head resumed its motion.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"That seems obvious."

"This is not okay! First my mom, now you're going after my friends, too?"

"I didn't go after anyone," Weaver said, his voice low and flat.

"Bullshit!"

Weaver's jaw clenched, and he pivoted his chair to face Lacy -- Becca scrambling to follow while keeping her lips sealed around his cock. As she clambered out from under the desk, Lacy saw she was naked except for a pair of strappy black stiletto heels. For a moment, she forgot her anger and took in the sight of her friend's bare, tanned skin, the swell of her soft belly, her modest B-cup breasts, and the glint of stainless steel piercings in her navel and brown nipples. Beneath a thatch of trimmed, dark pubic hair, a thick strand of honey hung between her puffy slit and her thick thighs. Lacy pressed her own thighs together while the chubby teen settled on her knees and resumed slurping on Weaver's erect member.

"Three weeks ago, Ms. Pruitt approached me on her own to get help with her grades, and we came to a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"Another of your deals!" she snapped. "I can't believe you -- you know she's my best friend."

"Yes, and she came to me on your recommendation."

His words hit her like a hailstorm in spring.

"That's not true -- I never told her to come to you for this."

"But you did tell her how much I helped you, and she came of her own volition."

Lacy faltered, her anger perforated with doubt. Was this her fault? Did she unknowingly set Becca up to fall into Weaver's grasp?

"Regardless, you're in no position to dictate how I conduct myself and with whom. Now, are you going to continue acting like a spoiled brat, or are you going to be a good girl?"

There was a hard-set look in his eyes, but Lacy couldn't stand seeing Becca being abused as she had been. She grit her teeth and crossed her arms.

"Haven't you gotten enough? Between mom and me, do you have to keep preying on any girl who comes to you for help?"

"I decide what's enough. Now, I'll only ask you one more time -- are you going to behave?"

"Will you let Becca go?"

"Why would I?"

"Whatever deal you've made, I'll take her place."

"I already have you."

Lacy considered her options, but they both knew she didn't have a way to counter his position.

"Becca," Weaver said, pulling her away from his crotch, "go wait for me on the couch."

With a nod, the brunette teen stood and walked towards the sofa. As she passed, she cast a nervous, sideways glance at Lacy, but not a word was spoken. Her pink lipstick was smudged; saliva gleamed on her chin, and her inner thighs were slick with juice. Lacy couldn't help thinking she looked hot like that.

Weaver stood, pushing the chair back, and Lacy noticed he was naked from the waist down -- aside from his black socks and brown loafers. With a quick step forward, he seized the blonde teen's upper arm and wrestled her down over the desk. She crashed into the wood with a yelp, feeling his hand slide to her wrist and twist it up into the small of her back.

"You'll wish you'd listened."

His free hand flipped up her skirt and yanked her rose pink panties down to mid-thigh, exposing the shiny metal plug embedded between her cheeks. Before her last period, she'd inserted it in the bathroom in preparation for their after school activities. The old man grinned at the evidence of her devotion.

"Enjoying your present, I see."

Lacy didn't want to answer, but she also didn't want to make things worse for herself.

"Yes, Daddy," she replied, gritting her teeth.

"Good girl, but you still earned your punishment."

Grabbing the ruler from his desk, he brought it down on her exposed cheeks with a loud snap. Lacy jerked and cried out in agony as her bottom burned from the impact. Her free hand slipped behind her, trying to block further abuse.

"Grab the sides of the desk," he said, letting go of the hand pinned against her spine.

"Please, I'm sorry. I'll be good."

He struck the backs of her thighs where her hands couldn't reach, making her flinch and shriek. From the couch, Becca gasped and turned away from the scene, squeezing her hands together in her lap.

"Grab the sides of the desk, or it'll get worse."

Lacy complied, clutching the edges of the desktop like a life preserver, but the next blow didn't come right away. Seconds passed, and as he watched her relax slightly, the ruler came down over her cheeks, leaving a red stripe across both jiggling mounds. She spasmed with a yelp, one foot kicking up reflexively.

"Two," she groaned. Weaver raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, the count starts at two, does it?"

"Please, Daddy," she begged.

He leaned over her and brushed her hair to the front, before pushing her head down flat against the desk.

"Be sure to properly count out the rest," he said.

The third landed before she could even answer. She somehow managed not to scream as she choked out the number between sobs. The ruler -- like the belt -- delivered a sharp, stabbing pain that rocketed up her spine and left red welts in its wake. As the pain dulled to a simmer, she felt wetness dribble shamefully down her inner thighs from her swollen cleft.

After a brief respite, the ruler smashed into her backside a fourth time. The count came out as a breathless squeak, as black spots dotted Lacy's vision. Her legs shook from the throbbing pain in her bottom, while sweat poured over her body. Weaver allowed her a moment while he watched her tremble in agony, his tumescent prick jutting out from his pelvis like a loaded gun. When he saw the tension in her back release, he delivered the fifth blow. The loud snap of wood against flesh resounded in the enclosed office, followed by the plaintive cry of the miserable girl.

"Five," she groaned, devolving into sobs.

He hadn't told her how many she'd earned, but she prayed that was the last. If not, she didn't think she could endure it. Already, the pain radiating through her bottom was making her lightheaded. She heard him drop the ruler back down on the desk. Then, he was lifting her up and turning her in his arms. When he drew her close, she buried her face against his chest and sobbed as his hands swept down her back and soothed her punished behind. He held her until her hiccuping sobs subsided, then stepped back to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"Are you done questioning me?"

"Yes, Daddy."

Weaver turned towards the couch where Becca sat watching them with wide-eyed wonder, struggling to process what she'd just witnessed. When she noticed him looking at her, her face reddened, and she looked away.

"Becca," he said, "would you like to end our arrangement?"

Now Lacy was looking at her, too, but she couldn't bring herself to return her gaze.

"No, sir," she said, tears beading at the corners of her eyes. Lacy felt a weight in her chest as she watched her wipe them away with her hands.

"There," Weaver said, "now we can put this melodrama behind us."

"How can you be so callous?" Lacy asked, but Weaver scoffed.

"Don't let her tears fool you; that girl's cum on my cock more times than she can count."

Becca's face turned lobster-red, but she didn't deny it.

Stepping around Lacy, Weaver retrieved a paper shopping bag from a nearby cabinet and handed it to her.

"Strip and put these on for me," he said, moving his hand between her legs to give her pussy a quick slap. Lacy yelped and shuddered, biting her lower lip.

As Weaver joined Becca on the couch, Lacy opened the bag to find a pair of black stilettos. She undressed and slipped into the heels, which fit perfectly. The pain in her ass was already fading, leaving her with a moist heat between her thighs as her earlier excitement returned. While Becca sat at his side sucking his cock, Weaver watched Lacy walk around the desk towards the couch. The heels accentuated her long legs, thin waist, and wide hips, giving her a refined, seductive silhouette.

After she took a seat beside him, he pulled her into an open-mouthed kiss. Their lips sealed, and their tongues rolled together while Weaver fondled her supple tits, Becca slurping on his cock below. When the kiss ended, he swapped their places -- pulling Becca up by her hair while Lacy sucked his throbbing truncheon into her mouth. She felt hot and slutty sucking the old man's dick while he made out with her best friend. All the while, he groped their shapely bottoms and fingered their drooling slits.

Eventually, Weaver had both teens slide off the couch and kneel side-by-side between his knees to fellate him. Their movements were clumsy at first, but they soon learned to coordinate. When Becca slurped on his head, Lacy licked and kissed his shaft. When Lacy took him into her throat, Becca sucked his balls. She was shocked that the blonde could deepthroat his monster so easily -- a feat she'd failed at even with her ex-boyfriend's considerably smaller member.

Grabbing them by the hair, he pressed their mouths around the head of his staff and forced them to make out around his cock. Lacy had never kissed another girl, and she didn't expect her first time would include a man's dick between them. She didn't dislike it, though. Becca's lips and tongue were soft and luscious -- wholly unlike Simon's or Weaver's. As Lacy became immersed in kissing her friend, the brunette returned her kiss with equal enthusiasm. Trapped between their supple lips, the old man's tip leaked warm, salty precum into their mouths.

Over time, Weaver slid further down the couch and spread his legs wider. Instinctively, Lacy moved lower, licking a winding path over his heavy balls and swollen taint. While Becca was stuffing her mouth with his cock, she was shocked to see the blonde teen bury her face in his ass. As Lacy wriggled her tongue around his dark spiral, Weaver threw back his head and groaned, overwhelmed by the ecstasy of having his cock sucked and his ass rimmed by two gorgeous 18-year-olds.

After a few minutes, the old man dragged Lacy's head up by her hair, positioning her mouth at the base of his cock. As she lapped at his balls and the root of his shaft, he pulled Becca off his staff and pushed her south. The brunette teen tried to wrestle out of his grasp, but with his fingers entwined in her hair, she couldn't escape. He shoved her face in his crack, but she continued to resist with all her might, grabbing his thighs for leverage.

"No, stop," she gasped, tears welling in her eyes from the way he was twisting her hair.

"Do you want to go over the desk next?"

"Sir, please," she begged, but he held her tight.

Becca felt a hand slide over hers on Weaver's thigh, slender fingers squeezing her palm. She looked up to see Lacy gazing back with her lips sealed around Weaver's cock, sympathy furrowing her brow. A moment passed between them before Becca squeezed her hand back and allowed their fingers to lace together. Closing her eyes, she let out a held breath before tentatively flitting her tongue across his anus.

A faint bitterness stung her, but it wasn't intolerable. As his hand pushed the back of her head, she began to gently lick around his dark crinkle, the musky scent of his crack flooding her nostrils. As she acclimated to the taste -- resigning herself to the degrading act -- her movements became more confident. She pressed her tongue fully against his hole, tracing his ridges and stabbing at the center where his flavor was most pronounced. Despite her disgust, her body tingled with heat, and thick secretions leaked down her meaty thighs. Still holding Lacy's hand with her left, she moved her right under her to massage her weeping gash. Her lips and tongue wetly nuzzled his grommet, while the busty blonde above her noisily gobbled his cock. Weaver sighed deep in his chest with his head back and eyes closed. He could've cum from their two slutty mouths right then, but he had other plans.

Rising from the sofa, he dragged Becca to her feet and bent her over the back of it. Then, he sat Lacy on the floor with her back against the couch, head between Becca's knees. Stepping over her, he grabbed Becca's hips and buried his turgid erection in her syrupy cleft.

"Oh, fuck," she gasped, clutching the back of the sofa in her fists. Although he'd taken her regularly since her first rape three weeks prior, her pussy was still not accustomed to his size. A sharp pain lanced through her crotch as she broke out into a sweat.

"Just take it, you little slut," he said, slowly sinking in to the hilt while yanking her head back by her silky brown hair. Lacy watched her thighs quiver and listened to her mewling cries. She'd never been this close to another woman's pussy, and as Becca's sweet, musty scent washed over her, she spread her knees and rubbed her aching sex.

As Weaver hammered Becca's cunt, her fleshy ass, thighs, and lower back undulated with each impact, while heavy cream frothed around her entrance and flowed down her legs. When his hand smacked each wobbling cheek in turn, she yelped and clenched around his shaft, the pain quickly dissolving into ecstasy. However, just as her orgasm began to build, he vacated her grasping channel, leaving her yearning.

Under her, Lacy gurgled as Weaver shoved his cream-coated cock between her lips and down her throat. The sweet, tangy flavor of Becca's juice flooded her mouth, and she lapped up every delicious drop. Once she'd sucked him clean, he withdrew from between her lips and rewarded her efforts with a slap to the face. Becca couldn't see it, but the sound alone made her pussy twinge.

Fuck that's hot

, she thought. When his crown nudged her entrance, she pushed back against him, squealing in painful pleasure as he drove into her once more.

The old man swapped between Lacy's mouth and Becca's pussy again and again. His constant switching left Becca dazed and breathless, inching towards a colossal eruption that felt just out of reach. Her dilated eyes were clouded, and drool streamed down her chin from her open mouth. As he slammed his truncheon back inside her pussy for the two-dozenth time, the brunette teen tipped over the edge at last, spiraling through waves of euphoria. Choked, bestial moans reverberated in her throat as she seized and seized on the end of his rod.

When her climax began to wane, Becca collapsed in exhaustion, slipping off Weaver's cock and flopping onto the floor next to Lacy in a half-conscious heap. Without missing a beat, the old man hoisted Lacy up onto the sofa, lifted her legs over his shoulders, and stabbed into her waiting cunt. The busty teen shrieked in pleasure, toes curling in her heels, while her pussy eagerly swallowed his sturdy pillar. Her hands clutched the cushions for dear life, her head tipping back over the arm, while he pummeled her with deep, heavy thrusts. As the intense sex carried on, the two girls were too out of it to notice the office door opening.

Becca was just coming to her senses when she looked up in surprise to see her history teacher Mr. Beckett standing over her with his half-hard cock dangling before her eyes. Behind him were Mr. Holt and Mr. Nielsen. Tall and stocky, with a head of tangled white hair, Beckett looked more like a retired linebacker than a high school teacher. He was also the oldest of the four, at age 61, but aside from his hair and his wrinkled face, he didn't look his age. A chill ran down Becca's spine at the sight of them hovering around her.

"Mr. Beckett, what are you doing here?" she exclaimed, trying to cover her breasts with one hand.

"Just here to help you earn that extra credit," he replied, leaning over her and grabbing the back of her head.

Before she could react, he stuffed his cock into her defenseless mouth. With her head against the couch and his fist in her hair, she had no way to escape the pole burrowing its way into her throat. Her only experience before Weaver was her ex-boyfriend, and he was nowhere near as big as these men. She beat her fists against Beckett's thighs and stomach as he forced another inch of his cock down her esophagus, causing her to retch and quake.