Caught by My Pigtails

I walked the line so carefully. I had everything to lose. I was a wife, a mother, a teacher. I had an active volunteer and family life that was deeply important to me. I was respected, even if I had a whole lot more people who depended on me than I had actual friends.

I was viewed by everyone as utterly reliable, one of those stogy conservative suburban women who was the one to turn to with help on anything from fundraising to children's mental health, but not one you would ever say a naughty word around, or tell an off colour joke to.

The husbands and my male students would eye my somewhat over lush curves and undress me with their eyes, but then they would sigh and complain about the stick up my ass and joke about the 1950's calling and wanting my wardrobe back. I developed early physically and the other girls were not okay with that, the boys were equally nasty so I learned to hide and deflect a long time before I figured out I had desires, let alone what they were.

I had a secret though. It wasn't a deliberate secret. it was the worst kind; a secret from myself as much as everyone else, and I started to come undone when I learned it. I married a wonderful man who cherished me. We raised lovely daughters and built a good life. He taught me I actually had a sex drive, and then introduced me to kink in what now seems a painfully suburban kind of way, and awakened something in me. Then I had a baby, and he couldn't look at the mother of his children that way. The hunger that had been awakened began to starve.

I found his porn on the computer. I discovered his love for interracial. It was nice but didn't really do anything for me beyond the moment. Then I made a mistake typing and found my kryptonite.

Hindu men. Proud Hindu men with uncircumcised big brown cocks, night dark eyes and sensuous expressive lips. Where the black and white porn seemed trite and honestly perpetuating bad and dangerous tropes, the richness of Hindu culture and civilization made their assumption of mastery seem not just another "look how potent my huge penis is compared to your husband" claim, which honestly my vibrator could also make. No this was something much harder to deny.

Hindu men, openly owning their sexuality, with rules that were part of an ancient and vibrant culture when we were still burning libraries because any book not the Bible terrified us.. Centuries of Christianity had simply taught women to spread your legs, pray it's over soon, it is not supposed to be enjoyed just endured. Centuries of Christianity had taught white men women are bought and sold, you don't actually have to consult them, or really worry about what they think about the matter. Certainly be suspicious of any who seem to enjoy sex, because that would mean they are sluts. Not a problem, it turns out not worrying about anything other than getting off as fast as possible makes Christian women totally aware that having more depressing sex is not something to seek, so why think about cheating with another bitter selfish disappointment?

I found a website. I found huge Hindu cocks, I found for the first time a desire to be on my knees sucking one. I found a desire to be sucking more than one, to have one between my breasts using my whole body to serve it like a priestess to the new found Hindu god of male potency and female pleasure.

I wanted to feel it in my pussy. My husband got a vasectomy, so I stopped taking the pill. I was still fertile, and as I talked to these powerful and sexy men online I became deeply aware that I was instinctively submissive towards them. I didn't just want to submit myself, I wanted to submit my bloodline. I wanted to be bred by them, to be owned by them, used by them, even passed around by them.

Surprise surprise, I got sloppy. I got careless.

Covid meant Zoom meetings, and that meant mounting webcams and microphones. I had always been careful to dismount my cameras and microphones before play. I can't take chances with my identity. I am a teacher and Girl Guide leader, any hint of a scandal and I lose my profession, my marriage, my family, and my volunteering all at once.

I had a stressful day and was almost wild with my need to masturbate. My husband was at work, my daughters were off carving pumpkins at my middle daughter's place. I didn't run upstairs to the bedroom, but to the main computer because I wanted to see those huge Hindu cocks on the big screen. I wanted to plug in my magic wand and to be beside the laundry room with its clothes pins, in case I felt like using them.

I pulled out the old stainless steel choke collar my old dog used to use. My daughter's have no idea why I keep it beside the computer. Nor do they understand why there is a large medallion in bronze with a trident engraved on it. The Trishul. The sign of Shiva on a dog collar I put on my own neck to hang between my 48G married white breasts while I talk to strange Hindu men and admit my desire to serve them.

I went online and started chatting. One boy claimed to be in his twenties and asked if I wanted to see him stroke his huge Hindu cock for me. I said yes. He sent a link. I clicked it.

There were a bunch of icons I could choose from but I had my left hand rubbing pretty urgently on my clit and wasn't thinking all that clearly. I didn't pay attention to which one I clicked because as soon as I hit the button, a picture of a boy with a finely shaped body appeared from mid chest to mid thigh.

He was a young god. A huge hooded cock stood in his fist and he stroked it slowly, turning in profile so I could admire its length, its thickness, and the heavy brown balls that swung like a bull's package with the promise of more cum in a night than my husband could give me in a year.

It didn't register that I was hearing his voice now. He wasn't texting, he was whispering.

"Tell me you like that slut" He whispered.

I knew he couldn't hear me, so I told him the truth "I love it"

I typed on the keyboard that I would love to suck on his beautiful balls, and he typed back, only if you put some clothes pins on those big whore nipples to show how you want me to pinch and bite them.

I told him I was doing it, but just kept playing with myself. He typed again in all caps.

"DO IT SLUT, DO IT NOW OR I HANG UP"

I went cold. He couldn't leave! I didn't ask myself how he knew I hadn't done it. I just went and grabbed a handful of clothes pins and came back. I started putting the clothes pins on my tits as his voice lashed into me.

"Disobedient whores like you need to be punished before they earn the reward of a Hindu cock." He snarled.

I moaned, his talk really getting to me. He told me to flick them, to lift my breasts by the pins, then to put some on my labia. That hurt so much I had to spread my legs all the way just to keep them from getting caught on each other and my fingers when I touched my clit.

I wasn't thinking about how he could tell what I was doing. I was punishing myself for him because I needed his cock so badly. It wasn't real of course, all that was real was my need, and the truth that I felt I didn't deserve his cock or the way Hindu men made me feel. I hadn't earned it.

I came three times on the rocking chair as he fisted that glorious cock, all the while babbling about how i would suck his cock, take it up my married white pussy, let him share me with his friends if only he would promise to let me suck him afterwards.

He told me he would give me to his friends to use as a cum dump and then he would piss it off of me, did I want that. I came so hard I sprayed. I begged him to please let me be his married white cum dump, his Christian piss whore.

He shot his cum with a roar. He shot again and again and again, then held his cock to the screen as drops continued to fall from it.

"Get down on your hands and knees whore, and lick your cum off that chair and promise you will lick my cum off the floor if you ever allow any to miss your white whore holes or fuck udders." He snarled. I swear his voice when he stopped whispering sounded familiar, but I wasn't exactly thinking at that point.

I dropped to my knees, I licked to the hard wooden rocking chair to clean my own cum from it, turning again and again to watch the cum drip from his cock as it dropped from rampant to hanging as it swayed like some hunting cobra, just tasting the air and looking for prey.

He typed. "You will wear that collar under your clothes tomorrow. You will put your hair in pig tails because that is how a white slut like you needs to be held while you are trained to handle a real cock."

I typed back "Yes sahib!"

It was such a powerful session. I couldn't actually stand for almost twenty minutes. It took me another ten to clear up the evidence of my play and stagger upstairs to shower and go to bed.

The next morning as I dressed in a much tighter white blouse than I usually chose. The fabric pulled my lace half cup bra tight to my breasts and rubbed on the tenderness of the clothespins marks on my breasts on and around my nipples. It made me low grade horney even as I dressed. Looking in the mirror, I put my hair into loose braided pig tails held by two white bows that matched my blouse.

I told myself firmly that was as far as I was going to go. I had the car warming up to defrost out in the driveway when my nerve broke. I went back into the house and pulled my stainless steel dog choke collar from the drawer with its bronze Trishul medallion.

Safely back in the car, I unbuttoned my blouse and put on the collar. The heavy twisted stainless steel links were enough to restrain a lunging rottweiler, and made the chain heavy and the sliding ring of its choke connector promised whoever held the other end decided if I breathed or not. The heavy Trishul medallion was cold as it sat between my breasts, a mute reminder I went to teach my class with my promise to be slave to Hindu cock concealed beneath my clothes.

I felt so powerful, so sexy. I was the conservative poster girl, the woman voted most likely to have had three virgin births, and yet I bore around my neck the promise to serve as a whore for the Hindu bull who commanded me to wear it. No one knew my secret. I was almost skipping as I went to class.

I smirked as I looked at the four Hindu boys in my last class. I was wondering if they had big uncut Hindu cocks like the ones I dreamed about when I jammed my dildo down my own throat and vibrators deep into places my husband never reached. I would never know. I would never cross a line with my students. Never cross a line with a former student. You just don't.

I would be masturbating so hard when I got home, thinking about my fourn Hindu students and their hungry dark eyes as they looked at me.

The bell went and everyone filed out. I began to close down my computer, and gather up the wipes for cleaning the classroom, because Covid 19 turned us all into janitors.

My blood turned cold as I heard a whisper that was low, throaty and purring like a hunting tiger. A whisper that didn't belong in my classroom, that belonged safely in my fantasies and across my computer screen.

"You wore pig tails like I asked. Now, show me you wore your collar like a good little whore, and I will let you earn the taste of my hard Hindu cock."

I turned to look at Vivek. My student was smirking down at me as I sat at my desk. He was holding up his phone, on screen I could see me whimpering as I put clothespins on my labia, my own red marked tits obvious and my face a mask of sexual depravity as I obeyed every spoken demand. Demands I now knew came from my own high school student.

He held my life in his hands. That video could take everything away from me. I had been too turned on to notice I didn't shut off my own camera and microphone. He had me on camera masturbating, begging to be his slut, his whore, his cum dump and piss mop. My student.

He looked down at me and demanded.

"Show me"

I unbuttoned my blouse to below my breasts. Reaching behind me, I unclasped and removed my bra, letting my dog collar and Trishul fall to hang free between my married white breasts for all my Hindu students to see.

Vivek turned to Rahul and ordered simply. "Lock the door and set up the webcams. Looks like we are going to be instructing teacher tonight, and its going to be a long hard class."

I felt the click of the lock on my classroom door and I felt myself fall to my knees. I placed my hands on his thighs and looked up at him as his young strong hands claimed my breasts for a cruel pinch and whimpered.

"Sahib" I called him.

Leaning down he kissed me so very gently, then whispered.

"When I am done, you will beg me to put a leash on that collar and walk you out of school like a dog."

I am so wet right now. He holds my entire life in his hands, and all I can think about is how much I want him to be able to train me to walk out of the school I teach at naked and cum dripping, on all fours like his dog.