Naughty Pilates Class (Brat and Tamer/Group Sex) short sex stories

My pulse pounds in my ears as I stare at your latest text message, excitement and dread an intoxicating blur that has me unsure whether I’m more terrified or turned on. *You’ll be holding that private class tonight. Plan for the maximum occupancy. Your studio, 8 pm, plugged, clamped, and in the outfit I selected.* No *panties or arriving late.*

You’ve been fantasizing about me teaching a special, invitation-only Pilates class for months, but I convinced myself that’s all it would ever be. A fantasy meant to make things hotter when we play. I should have known better, especially after you ordered that damned outfit off the internet. You never make idle threats *or* voice idle fantasies. *Sir’s middle name really should have been Follow-Through.* I grumble to myself. *Or* *Sadistic Bastard.* The Brat in me decides to snarl the second one in your face the next time you piss me off.

Which is probably going to be a lot sooner than I would have thought five minutes ago, since I *so* do not want to do this. *Liar!* whispers my Inner Brat. A voice I ruthlessly shove aside.

I’m already plugged and clamped since we were scheduled to play tonight. A quick check of the time reveals that it’s 7 pm. You’ve given me so little notice that I’m going to be hard-pressed to change and make it to the studio in time. Undoubtedly intended to give me less chance for finding a loophole out of this wet dream you plan to make reality. And after your punishment the last time I was late when you warned me not to be…

“Fuck!” I exhale a shaky breath and stumble toward my dresser.

My fingers shake as I pull out the tiny scraps of fabric you generously called an *outfit.* Skintight black shorts that barely cover my ample ass cheeks when I squeeze into them. They’re too damned tight for panties even if you hadn’t had the forethought to forbid those. I slither into a turquoise sports bra that is a size too small and regard my reflection in the mirror with a sour expression. You can clearly see the outline of the clamps through the sports bra, although most people probably wouldn’t realize what they were. Normally I would *never* wear anything this skimpy while teaching one of my fitness classes, especially not Pilates. *Good lord, my nipples could pop out of the sports bra at any moment.*

Which is *precisely* your hope.

*This* is how you expect me to go out in public. Displaying too much cleavage both up top and behind, something that has me muttering another curse before I defiantly pull on a loose workout tank that reads *Make Me!*, slip on socks and sneakers, and gather my towel, water bottle, and Pilates mat. I know the addition of the shirt is going to get me in twice as much trouble—once for adding something to your ensemble without permission and twice for the Bratty saying—but I decide it will *definitely* be worth it.

Twenty minutes later I’m unlocking the private studio I rent for dirt-cheap from a family friend, something that allows me to make a comfortable living teaching group exercise classes to the suburbanites in the area. Nerves dance in my stomach as I flip on the lights and try not to hyperventilate as I wonder just *who* you’ve invited to the private class. *None* of my regular students know about my kinky nature. I’ve always been so careful to keep that side of my life separate from work. I’d be shocked if any of my family or friends even knew what a Brat was, much less that I am one. And they sure don’t know I have a Tamer.

I expect you to arrive earlier than the others, if only to ensure I’ve followed your instructions, but surprisingly you don’t. This makes me bold enough to keep on the snarky tank top, something that gives me an extra dash of courage when your personally invited students begin to arrive a few minutes before 8. I’m further encouraged by the fact I don’t recognize any of them. An attractive, smiling couple are the first to step through the front door, mats and water bottles in hand and much less skimpily attired than me. They appear to be in their 50s and extremely friendly. I point them toward the studio just past the restrooms that is thankfully behind another door—one that I will *definitely* be closing so nobody walking past the front windows will see any of the shenanigans you have planned.

Two more couples who seem to be in their early 40s arrive, greet me cheerfully, and step into the studio to set up their mats while waiting for class to begin. Then a group of giggling college coeds followed by three 30-something men who look like they’d be much more comfortable lifting ridiculously heavy weights at the gym down the street rather than rolling around a Pilates mat. The knowing smirks they shoot in my direction has a sinking feeling blooming inside my stomach. They’re obviously here more to watch *me* roll around a Pilates mat than caring about doing that themselves.

Adding you to the count of those gathered in the studio brings us to the maximum occupancy. Although you’re still nowhere to be seen, something that has me inwardly cursing as I flip the sign on the front of the building to *Closed* to discourage any walk-ins from attempting to join the private class. I turn and step toward the studio, only to feel a vice wrap around my upper arm and tug me into the tiny office nestled next to the restrooms. The door shuts firmly behind me as I find myself shoved up against the desk. My body’s already recognized the familiar fragrance of your cologne, so I don’t scream at being manhandled and cut off from potential rescue.

Your arms approvingly cup the barely-there shorts covering my ass, earning an unplanned gasp when you squeeze before slapping each cheek with sudden force. I toss a scowl over my shoulder and earn two more quick blows.

“Don’t even *try* to pretend you don’t know what those are for, Brat. Remove it. Now.”

I open my mouth to protest and earn several more smacks. Not hard enough to bruise, but enough to show you mean business. “If I have to repeat myself, you’ll teach without the sports bra, too.”

Any further protests are choked back as I quickly peel off the snarky tank and toss it onto my desk.

“Good girl,” you murmur into my ear, making me involuntarily shudder.

“No fair,” I whine softly, trying to fight the urge to curl into you that always hits when you utter that phrase.

“Oh Brat, when will you learn? *I* decide what is and isn’t fair. And if you annoy me anymore tonight, you can bloody well count on my version of fairness being one that you will *not* like.”

I take a deep breath and nod. “Yes, sir.”

You whirl me around and plant a swift kiss on my lips. “And now it’s showtime, my pet.”

Panic lights in my eyes, and you pause to glance searchingly into my face. “It’s not too late to safeword, love. I’ll understand if you do.”

The speedy demonstration that you will forego your pleasure for my peace of mind is just one of the many reasons I trust you enough to smile and shake my head. “No, I’m okay. Just nervous. I’ve never done anything like this.”

“I know,” you softly reply. “That’s why I want you to be sure before we go any further.”

I give a determined nod. “I *want* to do this, or I never would have let it get this far. You know that, too.”

You give a small laugh, plant another kiss on my lips, and open the door. “You look sexy as hell tonight, by the way.”

That has me flushing slightly as I lead the way out of the office and into the nearby classroom. Your words may make me blush, but they also put the strut back into my step as I stroll across the hardwood floor. This is *my* domain, the place where I feel the most confident and help others of all shapes and sizes feel the same about themselves. It doesn’t matter how much—or how little—clothing I wear or what unexpected tricks you have up your sleeves. I’m in charge, at least while I’m teaching, and it’s time for class to begin.

The next hour passes much the same as any other class. I give a quick rundown of what to expect for those who’ve never taken Pilates and then take everyone through a warmup before getting things up to full speed. I teach a more fast-paced, cardio-heavy version of Pilates and notice that everyone works up a good sweat by the time we move into the cooldown. Even the musclebound weightlifters, who *do* spend a lot of time ogling me but are also determined not to be outdone by the college coeds or older couples sprinkled on mats throughout the room.

You’ve taken my class before so recognize when I’m winding things down. No sooner do I pop back up to my feet and finish the last few stretches in a standing position than you’re suddenly in my personal space, wearing the smile of a predator as your eyes zero in on the sports bra that’s now sweat-soaked and barely containing my sizable tits.

“That was a nice little warmup, Teacher. But now I think it’s time to start the *real* class.”

I falter back a step and shoot you an uncertain expression. “But…but that wasn’t a warmup. It *was* the class.”

You glance around the room, and I can’t help but follow your gaze. Every other person, both men and women, coupled and uncoupled, young and old, are wearing similar predatory expressions as they abandon their mats to step closer to where you and I stand at the front of the room. I can’t help but back up a little more. Your arms reach out and yank me back to your side, earning a shrill little cry from my lips that you quickly silence with a third kiss. But this one is neither swift nor perfunctory. It is long, wet, and lingering as your tongue invades my mouth with ruthless intent. My body relaxes instantly. A gasp escapes my lips as your teeth begin to nibble my lips and your hands suddenly grab onto my long, red-haired ponytail.

“That was *you* teaching us the fundamentals of Pilates. But now *we’re* going to teach you just what a dirty little slut you are, Teacher. Now get on your knees.”

My Inner Brat has me shooting a defiant glare, something that has you smiling in anticipation and grasping my ponytail more tightly, yanking it downward as you shove me to my knees. I let out another cry and manage to get my arms down quickly enough to break my fall onto a Pilates mat. My tits don’t make the fall unscathed, and they burst free from the inadequate sports bra, revealing both my large nipples and the clamps currently squeezing them tightly.

“Oh that won’t do at all!” you murmur, moving your hands as if to *fix* the wardrobe malfunction, but then you rip the sports bra completely off and toss it across the room. Pleased smiles break out among everyone now surrounding us in a loose circle as they stare at my epic (your description not mine) tits. I want to move my arms to cover myself, but you’re still gripping my ponytail tightly as you kneel beside me, and my hands and knees are flat on the cushioned mat. “Isn’t that much better?”

I embrace my reluctant role and let a few tears slip down my cheeks. “N—no! I want the bra back!”

You grant a cruel smile, releasing my ponytail and scooting a few feet away. “I think not. In fact, I’d say it’s time we show you just *who* is in charge of this classroom now.” You gesture to the musclebound men who waste no time in hurrying over. “Your turn, boys.”

My heartrate skitters as the three men surround me. One takes up position behind, another near my head, and the third gets down on the floor next to me. He quickly yanks my shorts down and the man behind grabs my hips and lifts slightly so his friend can send the scrap of fabric sailing after the sports bra. The man near my head claims my attention when he suddenly pulls his large, rock-hard cock from his workout shorts and taps it against my lips. “Open up, Teach.”

“Oh god!” I mutter, giving him the opportunity to shove his dick inside my mouth. I gag slightly as he begins to face-fuck me, which is when I realize that the man behind is now rubbing his equally hard cock against my bare ass cheeks and the man next to me is painfully tugging on my nipple clamps.

“That’s it,” the man face-fucking me taunts. “Suck my dick like the slutty teacher you are. Rolling around on your Pilates mat with barely anything covering your big ass and tits. You *wanted* us to do this to you.”

A choked sob tries to break past my lips but has difficulty given that my mouth is currently stuffed with the man’s cock. “Jesus, you’re dripping wet already!” the man behind me crows as he shoves two fingers into my dripping pussy. My eyes roll back as he begins quickly moving them in and out, using his other hand to ruthlessly pluck my clit. The third man continues playing with my nipple clamps, and pleasure battles pain as the three friends work my body with expert precision. Something that indicates this is *not* the first time they’ve done something like this.

I’m vaguely aware that everyone else in the room has broken out into small groups as they begin engaging in their own naughty play on nearby exercise mats. Everyone except you, who still stands a few feet away watching the three strangers inexorably fuck two of my holes while you watch with that same predator’s stare. But then they make it *three* holes.

The men maneuver themselves and my body until the man on the floor is beneath me. He smirks into my startled eyes as his huge cock juts hungrily against my pussy lips without passing inside. I whimper, possible now that the first man’s cock isn’t jerking inside my mouth, until suddenly it once again *is.* Then the second man’s dick thrusts inside my pussy, making my eyes roll back again from the sheer shocking force. And a few seconds later, I feel hands gently tugging the butt plug *out*. Some sort of cool gel is rubbed around and inside my asshole, and then another cock starts to slowly but surely gain entry into my third hole.

God, I feel stuffed so full as the men brutally fuck me. And so powerless to do anything but submit. One of the men—I can’t even tell who—begins to play with my clit again, and the man fucking my pussy changes his angle slightly and just like that, I cum so hard I see stars. Moans break past my lips around the cock inside my mouth, and I feel slightly embarrassed that everyone in the room must now how hard I just orgasmed. Before I can feel *too* ashamed, however, my eyes meet yours and you mouth the words, “Good girl.” Just like that, my body relaxes. Knowing how much my pleasure is pleasing you and how sexy you find my total submission is just the reassurance I need.

The three men make me orgasm at least two more times before they cum themselves. The first man cums inside my mouth, giving me no choice but to swallow as much of his sticky semen as I can. The man fucking my ass sprays his load inside me, but the third man pulls out and sends his load shooting against my tits. No students invited to this special class can cum *inside* the slutty teacher’s pussy. That right is reserved solely for you.

It’s a right that you intend to claim now that your biggest fantasy has been made reality. The men sense this when you stalk across the room to reclaim me, leaving the three friends to advance upon the giggling coeds who’ve been busy licking, sucking, and inserting toys inside each other since the *special* portion of class began.

I start to roll over onto my back, but you manhandle me into doggie position. Likely both to dominate and because you know it’s my favorite. “God, you look like such a slut right now. Three strange men’s cum all over you. Inside your dirty mouth and tight little ass, not to mention all over your huge tits and even in your hair.”

I can only watch over my shoulder and whimper as you shove your pants to the floor and your steel-hard cock against my soaking wet pussy lips. “You’ve already cum three fucking times but your greedy little cunt still wants more, doesn’t it?”

I just bite my lips without replying, something that has you narrowing your eyes and slapping my ass hard. “I asked you a question, Slut.”

“I…yes, Sir. My greedy little cunt wants more.”

“Tell me *exactly* what it wants, Brat.”

The ruthless authority in your voice has me hitting subspace even harder than before, and I melt into a puddle of Brat goo that can only do her best to please you. “I want Sir to fuck me. Please, oh please Sir, fuck me hard and fast. Make your Slut cum again!”

“Good girl,” you rasp before ramming your cock inside my pussy and begin to fuck me even harder than the men before you. You enjoy the greater advantage of knowing exactly what I like and being *my Sir*, so you have me screaming much more quickly than the others managed. My brain goes into overload as I glance at all the rutting bodies around the room, knowing how much my Pilates class turned them all on, and then the thought of how much my teaching this special session turned you in particular on has me cumming so hard that I squirt all over you. Earning yet another growled, “Good girl!” before you start shooting load after load of creamy white fluid into my already soaking wet pussy. I scream as yet another orgasm hits me hard before falling face-first against the exercise mat, enjoying the heavy press of your body pushing me even further into the mat as all conscious thought flees my mind except one.

I wonder how long I’ll have to wait until you schedule the next naughty Pilates class?

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