Lebisan

by Eva

Usual caution. Fiction for adults only, etc.

"What did you say, Julia?" Margaret Hammond looked up sharply from her desk at the last of the departing children. The big clock on the classroom wall showed 3.30 and the school day was over, and the teacher had been gathering up some text books as the pupils filed out.

"Um, nothing miss," said Julia Bennett. She stood in the classroom doorway, looking embarrassed. The pre-teen girl shot a look at her friend Diana Keen, who had briefly returned the look of 'oops,' before fleeing. Julia was left all alone.

"I heard you clearly talking about the girl's toilets," said Margaret, looking at the eight year old girl. A pretty child –– perhaps the nicest looking girl in Ms Hammond's class –– but she had distinctly red cheeks now. "So," the teacher pressed on, "please repeat what you said."

"Only that... They need cleaning, Miss." Julia's cheeks reddened further.

"No, Julia. That wasn't it. You used a word. Tell me what it was."

"Uh..." Julia gave another look at the classroom door. It was still ajar from where Diana had rushed out.

"Please close the door, Julia, and tell me what you said."

The eight year old looked close to tears as she shut the door. She sniffed a little. "It was a word in there, Miss," the girl said.

"What word?"

"Um, it said, lebisan, miss." Julia shot a look at the teacher. "On the door."

"What on earth is a lebisan?" Asked Margaret.

"Dunno," said Julia. She was fidgeting now. The girl seemed when closer to tears, so Margaret called a halt to this. There was no point in the child being upset any more.

"Okay, Julia. That's all. Off you go home now."

The child's eyes widened. "But I don't think you are one. I mean, I didn't write it on the door. I wouldn't. I like you too much, Miss."

Margaret opened her mouth to ask what it had to do with her, but let it go. "Home now, Julia. I'll go and look at this."

Julia looked horrified. "No, Miss. Don't. Please don't."

"Julia, I have to tell the caretaker to clean it off, but I can't do that until I know which door it's on." It was a thin excuse, but the only way she could think of marching straight into the girl's toilets to see if the word really did say 'lebisan' or, as she suspected, 'lesbian.' If old man Gorton scrubbed it off as a matter of routine then Margaret would never know what was said, or even if she could identify the handwriting; children never thought to try and disguise their handwriting and in her fifteen years of teaching Margaret had seen so many variations and styles. Circles over the 'i' instead of a dot, a little underline or flourish, even a backward way round 'N'... children were individuals and their handwriting was very individual indeed.

Julia hesitated, and then fled. Julia followed the child out of the classroom and saw the eight-year old scampering down the polished corridor between the classrooms. She shot a look over her shoulder, tripped and fell in an untidy heap. Her little short skirt came up and her white cotton panties were in full view of Margaret. The teacher hurried forward, scooping up the child and straightening the girl's skirt.

"Are you alright, Julia," asked Margaret, squatting by the girl and looking her up and down. There was a red patch on Julia's knee but the skin wasn't broken, thankfully. "That was quite a spectacular fall you had," added Margaret. She had one arm round the girl to steady her

Julia wasn't alright. The fall brought out all the tensions of a few moments before and she blubbered loudly, even putting her head on her teacher's shoulder and letting her pent up tears out. "I'm sorry," the girl blubbered.

"Sorry for what?" Margaret put her hands on the girl's slender, young back, feeling her lungs fill and empty rapidly as the child wailed.

"P-putting that w-word on the door."

"You mean, you wrote that lebisan word?" Alarm surged in Margaret. She had never imagined pretty Julia would do that sort of thing. Some girls she might suspect of it, but not this one. Julia wasn't like that. "You wrote that word on the door?"

"Um... no," the little girl lifted her tear-streaked face from Margaret's shoulder, sniffing as she did so. "It wasn't that word. It was..." More tears, more sobs.

Margaret tried to get the girl to calm down, even holding the child slightly away from her so she could look at her and console her. "Take it easy, Julia. You're not in trouble. I'm not angry. You had a little fall, that's all."

"Y-yes Miss." The girl sniffed again, and wiped a tear away with the back of her hand. There was a brief silence as if the girl was contemplating a thought. Then Julia hoisted up the hem of her little skirt and showed her teacher a large bruise on her hip at the front, right above the top of her thin cotton panties. "I fell here," said the girl, showing her teacher the mark on the point of her skinny, pale hip.

Margaret, her heart beating hard, put her fingertips lightly on the sore skin. The girl didn't flinch even though it was a little red. She rubbed it for a moment and the child gave the merest sigh. Then the slipped her hand across the girl's flat belly to the other side of the girl's hip, aware the girl was watching her. "Any bruises on this side?" The teacher asked.

"No, Miss. Further down, that's where it hurts a bit." Then she added. "It tingles."

Margaret gulped and moved her hand down over the top of the white panties, over the elastic waistband. Lightly resting on the girl's belly. "No. Miss," said the girl, "it's not there. It tingles down there." She wasn't flinching and if anything pushed her hips further forward, invitingly. "Right on my whatsit."

"Pussy," said Margaret, her voice hoarse. She slid her hand down over the taut white panties to the slight mound of the girl's sex. She was hardly touching it but her hand was trembling.

"My pussy," said Julia, barely above a whisper.

Margaret began to make small circular motions with her fingers, on the mound. "Here," she said. The woman could feel the small cleft under her light touch and the small girl made a small, satisfied sound. Then the teacher leaned forward so her nose was a few inches from the white panties and she could see the very faint, slightly yellow stain of the child's pee. Better, she could smell the aroma and her heart skipped a beat as she took in a deeper breath.

"No Miss, not on top. Under it a bit." Julia was staring hard at Margaret and the teacher felt even if she couldn't see the intensity of the child's gaze.

"You want me to rub you between your legs," said Margaret. It wasn't a question.

"Please, Miss. It's nice there." The girl eased her legs apart invitingly. More of the pee-stained crotch came into view. "It feels nice to be rubbed there," said Julia.

Margaret started to move her hand in between the spread, thin thighs. But she hesitated, and then pulled her hand away, her own face burning now. "Julia... Doing this... This isn't the right place."

"It is Miss. I want you to make my pussy better." Julia sounded disappointed.

Margaret stood up and straightened her own skirt. She adopted her familiar teaching tone. "Pull your skirt down, Julia." Reluctantly the girl did what she was told. The wonderful white and pale yellow panties disappeared from view. "Now, you need to show me what has been written on the toilet door."

Julia looked confused for a moment and then suddenly grinned. "Yes, Miss," she chuckled and took her teacher's hand, pulling the middle-aged woman towards the girl's toilet. "It's the last one," said the girl. "We call it the dirty one 'cos––"

"Cos people do dirty things in there," said Margaret. She didn't sound like a teacher now.

"Yes, Miss!" Another chuckle from the happy girl, a squeeze of the woman's hand.

——

The last cubicle of the girl's toilet was crowded with Julia and Margaret in there even though it was the larger of the eight. The small girl closed the door. "See," Julia said, pointing at the back of the door. It had been painted light brown a few years before but with washings and age it had faded to a sort of cream. Light enough to make the perfect place to draw on.

There were faded messages and comments, mostly praise for long-forgotten boy bands or girl's names who had long since left the school. A couple of dates confirmed that. But the the most prominent image of the door was a smiling stick figure. It was a smiling stick figure of a woman, but with a ball of curly hair, like Margaret's own hair, and a pair of big boobs on the chest. Just like Margaret's own bust. There was no semblance of a skirt but the figure had its legs apart and someone had drawn a pair of high heel shoes on the figure.

There were several arrows pointing to the figure. The one to the figure's smiling face had the words 'likes to lick ur cunny' next to it. The arrow to the woman's bust said 'suck these for fun' and inevitably the arrow to the figure's open legs said 'stick a banana up here,' and even the high heel shoes had a caption, which said 'wears fuck-me shoes.' High heels like the ones Margaret liked to wear when she went out to gay bars. How did these girls know?

The largest caption was an arrow to the woman's mass of curly hair, which said 'Pull the bitch's hair to make her do what u want.'

Above the simple figure was the single word 'Lebisan.'

"It should be lesbian, shouldn't it Miss? That was what I was saying to Diana, when you heard. I was saying it was wrong, that the word's lesbian."

Margaret gulped. Of course it should be lesbian, and of course she was a lesbian too. She had been for all her life, since she had sex as a nine year old with her own teacher, Mrs Wilkins. Three years of kissing and playing and fingering and then moving on to other women. Doing the same to them and learning what strap-ons were for, fucking and being fucked. Then to teacher's training college and her own age for a time, but still looking at girls and wanting sex with them. Wanting a girl to do to her what she had done to Mrs Wilkins all those years ago in the toilets at that school.

Now some girl wanted to do it to her. A beautiful, desirable and clever girl. Or perhaps it was girls, because the handwriting was different on each caption. There was, Margaret thought with a sudden twitch in her cunt, a girl who would want the teacher to wear high heels and perhaps clinging, see through lingerie to show she wanted to be fucked, another girl who Margaret would have to lick out and push her tongue deep in the girl's immature front hole, another girl who would suck the woman's long, fat nipples lustily and perhaps bite them, yet another girl who would happily push bananas or cucumbers in a woman's holes to make her beg for more, and a girl who would pull a bitch's hair and maybe slap her and tell her to get on with making the child happy.

Margaret gulped. "And these messages... Which one did you write, Julia?"

"Guess," said the girl and laughed. Margaret said she couldn't guess, but any of it was fine by her.

Julia grinned, and then she took hold of Margaret's hair, entwined her fingers in the blonde curls strands and pulled her teacher's head down. Julia smiled and then kissed the teacher. A long, deep passionate kiss. When Julia broke the kiss (but didn't let go of the woman's hair) she said, quietly. "I want to do all of them, but each one on a different day. After class we'll come in here and you will wear nice sexy things for me, and I will push things up your cunt and arse, you'll eat me out and I'll bite those tits of yours until you scream."

Margaret gulped. "And your friends? Will they do things to me too?"

"Yeah! But they'll wait outside until I've done and then they'll come in here do whatever they want to you. They'll maybe want to lick your cunt make you tongue their bumhole or beat you and tie you up or fuck you with their toes or make you drink their piss or have you dance naked with clothes pegs on your fat tits or someone will stuff their poopy knickers in your mouth and make you suck them clean..." Julia shrugged. "You'll find out."

Margaret gasped a "Yes." Her cunt was on fire, liquid gold swirled in her belly, her nipples ached and her heart pounded out a message of devotion.

The girl reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out a pencil. "See this, bitch?" Julia said, her nose almost touching Margaret's. "You're gonna take it and write on the back of that door what you want. Then if I agree I'll do it to you."

Margaret swallowed, looking up at the girl's lovely eyes, at the child's lips that she yearned to kiss again. The woman knew what she wanted. No matter what a little girl did to her, no matter how they used her and made her beg and plead and moan and whimper and scream, there was only one thing she wanted. If Julia would do that she could take any degradation, any humiliation from any young girl.

Margaret took the pencil, said "Thank you. Miss," and then — with Miss Julia's hands still holding her hair –- the woman strained forward so she could reach the door and she drew a heart with the word 'Julia' in it.

Julia laughed, dragged the woman's head back towards hers and kissed the woman on the lips in a passionate, open mouthed and very long kiss. When the girl broke it she whispered: "If you behave I will love you always." Then she forced Margaret backwards so her head was over the toilet pan, but looking up. The small girl clambered on her teacher's face so the pee-stained crotch of her lovely white knickers were over the woman's face. Margaret could see the stain, smell the pee. Then she stretched to get her tongue up and lick the little girl's soft mound. Licked it lovingly as if this was a gift from the gods. Licked patiently, hoping that Julia would like what the submissive woman was doing and want it again. Or perhaps want it next time with Julis's knickers down and that beautiful little hairless pussy would be against Margaret's lips. Because there woudld be a next time, Margaret told herself. This was just the beginning.

As the teacher dutifully lapped at the crotch of the girl's panties over her face, the girl began to pee through the taut fabric. A dribble that spread over the stretched cotton and made Margaret open her mouth wide and lick faster, tasting and cleaning and drinking what she could. At the same time Julia reached down and seized one of Margaret's tits and pulled at it, finding the hard nipple through the teacher's blouse and bra and pinching and squeezing and gurgling a laugh. "I'm gonna get girls to pay for you to be their slut," chuckled the little girl. "You serving them and me, and me making money."

"Will you love me, Miss?" Asked the woman. "When you do that to me?"

"If you please me, Hammond," said Julia as she now twisted both of the woman's nipples harder and still pissed.

"Ahhh! Yes... I will, I promise," Margaret said, stifling the desire to scream in pain. "Please... I'll be the best lebisan anyone has ever owned."

The end