The owned teacher chapter 8

Sara gets collared then fucked up her bum hole while she is on the phone to her husband

Chapter 8: The Collar

Sara woke to the dull ache in her arse and the sticky residue between her thighs. Mark’s come had dried overnight, crusting her skin, the scent of sex still clinging to the sheets. The hotel room was quiet except for the low hum of the air con. Mark was already up, dressed in jeans and a fresh hoodie, scrolling his phone at the small table by the window.

He didn’t look at her when he spoke.
“Breakfast downstairs. Then we go shopping. You wear what you wore last night to breakfast.”

The micro skirt and sheer top from last night were crumpled on the floor. Sara pulled them on no knickers, no bra, tits outlined through the thin white fabric, nipples stiff from the cool air and lingering shame. The skirt barely covered the tops of her thighs; one wrong step and her cunt would flash. She felt obscene, used, marked.

Down in the hotel restaurant, it was bright, busy with weekend couples and business types, she walked behind Mark, head down, tugging the hem constantly. Eyes followed her. A waiter stared too long. A woman at the next table whispered to her partner. Sara sat gingerly, thighs sticking together, cunt exposed under the tablecloth. Mark ordered for both of them, eggs, coffee, like she was furniture.

She barely ate. Every shift in the chair rubbed her sore arse against the cushion. She was wet again by the time they finished.
They walked to the sex shop in silence. Sara had changed back into her normal clothes first, knee-length navy skirt, white blouse, cardigan, trying to look like the respectable teacher she used to be. It made the destination feel worse.

The shop was dim, rubber-scented, low cheesy pop music. A few customers browsed: a couple giggling over lingerie, a lone man in the BDSM aisle. The cashier was a twenty something with tattoos and a bored smirk.

Mark went straight to the counter, arm loose around Saras waist.
“Need a few things for my girl. Vibrating egg—remote app one. Butt plug set, three sizes. Leather collar with leash. Something sturdy.”

The cashier looked Sara up and down, conservative skirt, blouse buttoned to the neck, flushed cheeks,and grinned wide.

“She looks like she teaches Sunday school. You breaking her in proper?”

Mark didn’t laugh. “She’s learning.”

The cashier led them around the shop like a salesman showing cars. Sara trailed behind, mortified.

First the vibrating egg, smooth black silicone, Bluetooth app controlled. “This’ll keep her on edge all day. You can buzz her from the next room.”

Mark nodded. Handed it to Sara. “Hold it.”
Then the butt plug set, small, medium, large, flared bases, glittery jewel ends. “Start small. Work her up. Looks like she’s still tight back there.”

Sara’s face burned. The cashier glanced at her arse like he could see through the skirt.

Last, the collar—thick black leather, silver O ring, a matching leash coiled like a whip. The cashier fitted it around her neck right there in the aisle, buckled it snug, tugged the ring. “Fits nice. Makes her look owned.”
Customers stared. A woman in the next aisle whispered. Sara wanted to disappear into the floor.

At the counter Mark made her pay with her own card. The receipt printed with her name: Mrs. S. Thompson.

Cashier smirked. “Have fun, Mrs. Thompson. Looks like she’s gonna need it.”

Mark clipped the leash to the collar before they left, coiled it in his pocket but left the collar on. Sara walked out leashed, head down, cunt dripping under her sensible skirt.

Back at the hotel he didn’t waste time.
“Strip.”

She obeyed, skirt, blouse, cardigan, knickers. Naked except the collar.

He inserted the vibrating egg deep in her cunt and turned it on low. The buzz hummed through her core. Then the smallest plug, lubed, slow push into her sore arsehole. She whimpered as it popped in, stretching her.
He clipped the leash to the bedpost, made her kneel on the floor.

“Open.”

She sucked him, slow, deep, gagging when he hit her throat. He tugged the leash to control the pace.

Then he bent her over the bed,arse up, legs spread. Turned the egg up a notch. Fucked her cunt first, hard, relentless, the egg buzzing against his cock inside her. She moaned loud, body shaking.

He pulled out, lubed his cock, pressed against her plugged arse.

“Take the plug out.”

She reached back, pulled it free, hole gaping slightly, sore.

He thrust in, slow at first, then deep. She cried out, pain sharp again, but the egg in her cunt turned it into something twisted and hot.

He fucked her arse steadily, deep strokes, leash pulled tight to arch her back. The egg buzzed harder. She rubbed her clit frantically.

“Call him.”

Sara froze. “What?”

“Call David. Now.”

She shook her head. “Please...no”
He slapped her arse hard, stinging. “Call him. Or I stop and leave you edged all day.”

Tears in her eyes, she reached for her phone on the nightstand. Dialled. Put it on speaker.

David answered on the second ring. Cheerful.
“Hey love! How’s Liverpool?”

Mark thrust deeper. Sara bit her lip to stifle a moan.

“G-good… just… having fun…”

Mark sped up, wet slaps filling the room. The egg buzzed against her G-spot.

“You okay? Sound out of breath.”

“I’m… walking… fast…” She clenched around the cock in her arse, fingers rubbing her clit desperately.

Mark leaned close, whispered: “Tell him you love him.”

“I… love you, David…”

Mark slammed in hard. Sara’s voice cracked into a choked whimper.

“Love you too, babe. Have a good day. Will kiss the kids for you.”

The line went dead.

Mark laughed low. “Good girl. Now come for me, you cheating cunt. While your husband’s home with your kids, thinking you’re out with the girls.”

The words broke her. Shame flooded her, David’s voice still echoing in her ears, and it tipped her over.

She came hard, her fat arse clenching around his cock, cunt spasming around the egg, screaming into the pillow. Body shaking, tears streaming.

Mark pounded through it, then buried deep and came in her shit hole, hot pulses filling her.

He pulled out. Egg still buzzing low inside her.

“Leave it in. Collar stays on. We’re not done.”

Sara collapsed face, down, messy, leaking, owned—while Mark scrolled his phone beside her.
She was his.
Completely.
Collared and all.
--------

Written by [email protected]