Teacher Vore Novels & Stories

I step away, watching the chaos unfold. “Oh my God!” Hannah cheers, thrilled. “Oh my God!” Esme yells, enraged. “I’m losing it,” Esme mutters, pressing her hand to her forehead, looking like she’s genuinely spiraling. “He’s a giver. Nice. Maybe he’s decent after all,” Hannah nods approvingly, giving me a thumbs-up. “Decent?!” Esme snaps, pointing a finger at her. Hannah flinches, caught off guard. "He's a teacher! Nora's teacher! He's having relations with a student of his! It's absolutely not okay. I should report him. Or better yet, I should go to Mason," Esme threatens, her eyes blazing.

I dug my foot into the tiled floor, praying for a disaster to happen and take the attention away from me, so I could escape from this hell I got myself into. My prayer was promptly answered when the VP, Mrs Wilson walked in to inquire what the noise was all about. The teacher showed her my dildo while pointing at me and she also screamed. “What?!” what are you doing with that? And in school too? Now take your little toy and follow me to my office right now” She barked at me, her eyes as wide as saucers. “Oh hell, this Mrs Wilson was different from the one that was moaning my name just some hours ago” I thought.

Like our bond is just… just public p**n. The door handle rattled again—harder this time, insistent and angry. Voices murmured outside, muffled but cruel, carrying through the thin gap under the door. “Is she in there? The Voss whore? I saw her run this way—skirt all messed up, cum literally trailing behind her like some kind of slutty breadcrumb.” A laugh, sharp and female. “Bet she’s in there crying like the pathetic teacher’s pet she is. Lila really got her good. ‘Personal breeding bitch’—classic. Someone should post the video. The whole campus needs to see what Professor Voss’s ‘star student’ really is.” Another voice, deeper, alpha: “Door’s locked. Let her stew. Maybe she’ll finally real

Keddrick had another lesson planned for us today, teaching us some ways on how to behave tomorrow. I walked out to the volleyball courts with Jane and Kenna by my side and spotted a few teachers walking to the dressing rooms. I suddenly felt lust. “Hello ladies.” a voice said behind us. We twirled around and I looked at Damon, who was not looking at my face but my body.

There is a dead mouse stuck in the air conditioning unit during summer, filling the classroom with a foul odor. Henry Hudson, my homeroom teacher, instantly blames it on me, saying I don't shower. He mocks me for reeking of pigs and polluting the air in the classroom since Mom and Dad raise pigs for a living. He even insists that Mom and Dad sell our pigs to buy new air conditioners for the classroom. I flush with shame as I repeatedly insist that I shower every single day, but my classmates still mock me and call me "Stinker Tucker". I am forced to transfer to another school after enduring the endless insults and hostile glares from countless people. Years later, I head a major biophar

Vagamound smiled and start to eat. It was really awkward. Him starring at me. Thank God I decided to break the silent between us. I watched as he ate. Then I felt a strong chill on my skin. I looked up then I noticed the teacher and the students were all staring at us. “I.....”. I tried to talk but couldn't find a word to say. “I understand”. The teacher said. “You guys are couple but these stuffs are to be done privately between you two”. “It's not what you think”.

Only, it wasn't a wall that I had walked into, since walls never have hands to grab around your waist and neither do they have delicious manly cologne to blow your senses off proportion. I peaked open an eye and gasped again. Oh no! Oh God NO! Not Ethan Fucking Whitmore! It was an extremely rare occasion that a teacher was awfully famous with his students, or should I say, for sleeping with his students. But Ethan Whitmore was that rarity. He was a fresh out of college, trainee teacher who was as good at teaching as he was in bed and...most of the queen bees have slept with him and not to forget that I might have used him as my ideal male lead in some of my stories....scratch that, most of m

The students fed off her humiliation, their lust amplified by the knowledge that they could have her anytime, anywhere. A teacher, a middle-aged woman with a cruel smile, stepped onto the stage. She unbuttoned her blouse, revealing her naked breasts. "I want a turn," she purred, her eyes locked onto Barbara. The crowd cheered as she approached, her heels clicking on the stage floor. She grabbed Barbara's hair, pulling her head back roughly. "This is a lesson you'll never forget, slut," the teacher sneered, before pushing Barbara's head down onto her waiting cock, still standing and raw from the last student's penetration, making her gag as the head slipped down her throat.

My voice — clear, commanding, breathless — filled the tiny speaker. “Faster… Good boy… Come for me.” Then it cut to Tristan in my office earlier today. The footage was from a hidden angle, showing his hand disappearing under my skirt, my head falling back, my moan unmistakable. It ended with a still image of me from faculty photos beside Tristan’s cam profile. The caption at the end read: **“Professor Voss pays student for sex. Retaliates when exposed. Full story dropping soon.”** I slammed the phone face-down on the chair beside me, nausea rising. Whoever sent this had been watching us. In my office. Today.

I rolled my eyes, grabbed my bonnet off the bed, and adjusted my shorts before heading downstairs. “If this is about chores, I’m actually going back up—” I was halfway through the stairs when I saw Mr. Victor’s heavy stare. He is my substitute teacher. Twenty three, young, smart. But the way his eyes dragged slowly down my body — lingering on my breasts, then my bare thighs — made my skin crawl. “Mum,” I said tightly, “why is my teacher in our house?” She smiled like she’d won a lottery. “I hired him as your personal lesson teacher. He’s the best.”