FemSub Stories - FemDom Stories

Femsub Humiliation

Femdom/femsub, bondage, hardcore, humiliation, oral, punishment, slavery, spanking

2:15 PM, I was still in my classroom. Usually I would have either left or graded papers, but I had a bad feeling and couldn't concentrate. So why not leave? Darla Greene. A student new to the school had requested a meeting. I had just finished discussing the current class assignment when she asked, so I originally presumed she simply wanted to know if she had to do it. I teach English at Brodie Valley High School. The class she was in of mine, specifically, was Classic Literature. She had moved to the school halfway between the due date and the date it was assigned. The large brown envelope she handed me at the time confused me, but it had written plainly on the top "Open after class". I thought maybe she had heard of the assignment before moving, and so already had a rough draft. Impressive if true. I really had no way of knowing what was in it until after I opened it. She had approached within the last ten minutes of class so I asked if she'd like to discuss it, but she said she'd prefer talking about it after school gets out.

    She said very little besides asking to talk with me after school. She was an odd girl, though. She dressed in mostly black, even used black lipstick and nail polish. She reminded me of goths, whom I had seen little of in this school, but she wasn't nearly so angsty or standoffish as they're said to be. Indeed, she seemed very friendly. I'd even say she reminded me of myself when I was a girl her age, aside the favored color. Mine was pink. So why the bad feeling, then? I respect my students until they give me reason to stop, so I did wait until after class to open the envelope. The last student wasn't quite out the door and into the throng of students when I took out the top page of the contents. I suppose I gasped, since that last boy turned to me and asked if something was wrong. Immediately, I pulled the photo close to me and shook my head to dismiss his worry. He looked at me for a moment, but I was sure he hadn't seen the photo, so when he left I placed the photo back in the envelope and placed it in my top drawer which was, in turn, promptly locked.

    Darla was in my fourth period, the one after lunch. That next period I couldn't get the image out of my mind. I tried to focus on my lecture about Huck Finn, but I simply couldn't. Flashes of Chad Courteson from the backside stopped me cold. My legs, still in their white stockings, wrapped around to the back of him. My blouse was open and my bra undone, my D cup breasts pressed against his firm, wide chest. We were doing more than kissing in that picture, it was obvious. His pants on the floor at his feet and his muscular buttocks were clear, me sitting on the edge of my desk, his weight on me... ten minutes into the lecture, I told my students I was getting an awful headache. I took some Tylonal and gave them the rest of the period to work on their assignment. It wasn't a lie, after all. This meant more than someone somehow acquiring sexy pictures of me. Chad was only seventeen his senior year, last school-year. Much more was at stake than my privacy. I could lose my job. No, more than that, I could go to prison for some years and lose the chance to ever teach again. I was only 25, I couldn't let that happen!

    I knew it was a mistake when it happened. I knew I shouldn't have done it, and I knew I'd regret it. I knew the consequences, but I had thought I had gotten away with my three month love affair with Chad. Lately, I'd think about this terrible secret with warm feelings of several varieties, and perhaps a little bit of moaning. But that would be at home, before going to sleep. Even then, not often. I still don't know exactly what it was about him, but he was irresistible. I was more attracted to him, still, than any man I'd ever met, and he was a boy. How were these pictures taken? Who took them? How did a girl who had been going to school here for less than two days get them? I used the rest of that period to look around the room, using my memory of the picture to determine where it may have been taken from. The steamy event had taken place in this very room, after all. We were on the second floor and the northernmost part of the school. There was a huge field outside, and then the stone backside of an apartment complex. Nobody could have taken it from the window without me having noticed at the time. It was the corner near the windows, though. Chad sat near the door, not near the window. So how?!

    The bell rang and I hardly noticed the students leaving and more filing in. After the late bell I explained to the class that they got a period to work on their assignments due to my headache, and spent the rest of the class at my desk. Darla. How did she fit into this? How she got the pictures I hoped she would tell me, but I really didn't know what she was after. I could assume she was going to use them as blackmail, to get a good grade. I wondered how I would tell her that I would. That saddened me. Of course I would be forced to meet her demands. How would I explain that I couldn't give her straight As? I would have to make her grading seem realistic, after all. She had a history of doing well in English. I learned that by chance, going through her grade history after hearing she was going to be in my class. But she wasn't an A student. She averaged a B+ throughout her English classes at her other school. What if she didn't accept that? Well... I was in a corner, and I'd die if I tried to fight my way out. I'd have to give her straight As if that was her demand.

    Back to 2:15. It had been twenty minutes since school was out, and Darla hadn't shown up. Today, I had a bad feeling in my stomach. I knew she would. I had already gotten out the envelope again. I had been going through the dozens of pictures for about ten minutes when the door opened. The silouette of the girl previously behind it was skinny, yet average of height for a young woman, with curves to match. It was her, Darla. She had made it. I was glad nobody could be heard outside and that the window near the door was covered in posters. I wanted there to be no chance someone overheard whatever was about to transpire. Darla closed the door gently and smiled at me. I heard a click. She locked the door. I was thankful. It meant she didn't want anyone to overhear, as well. She smiled at me for a moment my mind turned into minutes. She walked over to the desk closest mine and set her bag on the chair of it, then sat facing me on desk itself. She wasn't very tall but, at least then, she had a presence about her that gave the impression she was. She still smiled. It felt very hot, so I unbuttoned the neck of my blouse and started sliding the pictures back into the envelope.

    Before they had gotten all the way in, Darla spoke. It startled me even though it was exactly what I was waiting for. She said, "What do you think?"

    I hesitated. I finished putting the pictures back and sat the envelope on my desk. I folded my hands together in front of me and looked at her. What did she expect? Was she waiting for something in particular? I ventured a guess, "I... If you want a good grade, I would have to give you a B here or there, to make it re..."

    She stopped me mid-sentence, still smiling. She even kicked her feat a bit. She appeared to not be bothered by anything going on, "Is that what you think I want? False grades? I can get As and Bs on my own, and wouldn't respect myself much if I had to cheat through my favorite subjects."

    "Then what?", I asked, dumbfounded.

    "Stand.", she said. She hopped down from her perch and walked to the side of my desk. I was so confused, her request simply hadn't processed. I looked at her, and I know I looked stupid the way I did it. It was so very hot and my seat wasn't very comfortable, so I shifted a little. She looked down at me and laughed lightly, "I have more than one spare set of copies, and even a video recording, so stand up."

    Slowly, I got up. I couldn't look her in the eyes anymore, and focused on my desktop. My chair slid back a few feet, and I was standing. It was, indeed, in the room. I could see her to the side, but I didn't want to focus on it, "Where did you get them?"

    "I'll tell you if I feel like telling you, but even that will change nothing. Currently, I do not feel like telling you. It'll take a long time and hard work before I ever tell you, and you'll still be my bitch even after then. Did you know I turned 18 two days ago? Chad was only 17.", She removed her hands from behind her and set a box on my desk. It was gift wrapped, and about the size of a clothing box, "Don't open that until after I leave."

    I got the courage to look at her somehow. She was licking her lips. Her red lips, not black. It hit me like an oncoming train. She was attracted to me. And she held my career, my life, in her hands. She was going to use her power over me to satisfy her lusts! With another woman! I'm no lesbian! She grabbed my arm and pulled me to her. Before I could even think how to react, she was kissing me. I pulled away. It didn't consciously enter my head to do so, I was simply disgusted and did it. I shrank back as she softly held my chin. She looked me square in the eyes. She was no longer laughing or smiling. She was... aroused? Finally, I could think again. I knew I would have to go along with it. How awful could it really be? I raised my arms and placed my hands on her hips. She pulled me in and kissed me deeply. I tried my best, but I simply couldn't get into it. It was really gross. But what else could I do? Between kissing another woman and losing my career forever and going to jail, the kissing seemed the wiser option. I looked at the door, just to be sure. It was still shut and locked, and the posters still blocked the view at the window next to it. I tried to focus on kissing again. I jumped when I realized she was maneuvering her hands around to caress my butt. Once they were in position, she pulled me in using my butt as the steering wheel. She kissed me all over my face and neck, she nibbled on my ear.

    I just began to notice that it was possible to enjoy it if I ignore it was her doing it, when she pushed me to the side and back. My reflexes at the time were slow, given how I was shaking. I landed on my desk, sitting. She looked me straight in the eye as she began undoing my blouse. I looked over to the side in embarrassment. I focused on a chalk eraser. It needed to be cleaned. Was this rape? Was my job worth it? I couldn't bring myself to stop her, so it must have been. When she pulled my blouse to each side, opening it to display my bra, I could make out her smile. She leaned in and reached around me, inside my blouse. She unsnapped my bra and began to kiss me again. Everything began to get blurry, and I felt cool air on my breasts as the bra fell. I could feel her hands on them, though I still wouldn't look at her. She rubbed them softly and rhythmically. It, like the kissing, felt good. All I had to do was ignore that it was another woman, no, girl doing it. Her head moved down, and her kisses went with it. I felt them flutter on my breasts, in my cleavage, and on my nipples, one after the other. She began to lick and suck my nipples as her hands moved down to my knees. Out of disgust and reflex, I resisted her attempt to spread my legs apart. She looked up at me, bit the air, and said, "Do you not enjoy it? You're going to. I'm in charge. You're my bitch, and you're going to do everything I want."

    "I'm a teacher! Why are you doing this?", I said it, apparently. I hadn't thought to, but I did anyhow. I was too curious and humiliated, perhaps I wanted to assert my authority. It was out of my mouth, either way.

    "You,r long blond hair, your pouty lips. Your huge tits, slim waist, and perfect ass. Your calves, your cheekbones, your eyes... you're beautiful. And this way you're all mine. My little slut.", she said it so calmly, so slowly, yet with a bit of disdain.

    She continued what she was doing, pressing the insides of my knees to move my legs apart. I didn't resist this time. I knew she'd stop staring at me and I could think of other things if I complied, to get my mind off what was happening. I was wearing a knee-long skirt, but she began to roll it up my thighs as she continued kissing and sucking on my breasts and nipples. She didn't press my legs far apart, and she pulled me up by my rear to get my skirt past it. When it was around my waist, she knelt down onto one knee. She pulled at the waist of my panties, and they came down to where I was sitting without hesitation. Darla looked up at me, and motioned "up" with her head. My hands already to either side, I pressed up and she pulled my underwear down past my butt. She continued with them, pulling them down to my knees, then to my feet, and finally off entirely. She stood up, a wide grin on her face, and she put the panties into her pocket.

    I was still shaking, and a tear was slowly rolling down my right cheek. Darla leaned against my desk, between my knees so I couldn't close my legs. She grabbed my right breast and kissed me. I wasn't prepared for it, but when she backed away from the kiss, her right hand was at my mouth. One of her fingers forced it's way past my lips. What else could I do in the situation? I opened wider and let her finger explore. She began to slowly move her finger into and out of my mouth, sliding along my tongue and deep into the back of my mouth. As she did that, she talked, "Now, bitch, I want to lay down the rules. Rule number one; Grade me fairly. I want the grade I earn. Rule two; Whenever nobody else is around, you call me 'Mistress'. Rule three; Also whenever nobody else is around, you ask permission before speaking. Rule number four; You do whatever I say, and you will not question me. Rule number five,", as she started this rule she pulled her finger from my mouth and slid it into my vagina, which caused me to jump and flinch, then she moved her other hand around to grab my hair, "the only one place you're allowed to have hair is on your head. This dirty looking shit down here is going to have to go. Shave it, electrolysize it, I don't care, but you're in trouble if I ever see it after today. And last, number six; If you disobey me, I will punish you. It's your choice whether I punish you in a way I'd more enjoy, or if it's by giving the principal a copy of those pictures. Those are my rules. You are my bitch. Obey them."

    When she finished that last sentence, she turned around and stepped to the desk, grabbing her book-bag. It felt great to not have her finger shoved into my vagina. She then began walking too quickly to the door. I jumped off the table and rolled my skirt back down. She was to the door, so I didn't have time to fix my bra and shirt. I turned around just as I heard the door open. I tried to act calmly as I listened for it to shut. I desperately wanted to fix my shirt, but I couldn't allow someone in the hall to see me do it. When I heard the door shut and the room was silent, I glanced behind me and then all around. The room was shut and abandoned again. I began to sob as I fell into my chair. It was difficult to fix my bra. I had to remove my shirt most of the way to put it on the way I normally do, and then I fixed my shirt. I sat for a moment thinking about my situation as my eyes teared up. So it looked like my choices were to lose my career and possibly go to prison, or involve myself in lesbian power-play. I cried for a while more before I recognized the box on my desk. Though the writing was large, it took me a while to read, "To my favorite teacher, Ms. Greggor."

    I wasn't going to leave my room in the condition I was in, so I decided to open the box. Atop the white tissue papers was a note. It read;

    "Rules;

    1) Grade me fairly.

    2) Call me 'Mistress'.

    3) Ask permission to speak.

    4) Do everything I say without question.

    5) Remove hair except atop your head.

    6) Disobeying means punishment. Either something I choose, or you may choose for the principal to get a copy of the photographs.

     Sincerely - Mistress Darla

    PS Further instructions on back."

    On the back, there were indeed further instructions. They were written sloppily, as though while in a car or, my guess, on a bus. They read, "I hope you enjoy the new outfit I got for you. I found the dress code for teachers in the office and this outfit doesn't break it, so don't worry about that. Getting your sizes was difficult, and some of it was guess-work, but I think I got it right. Of course, I'll want to see you in it tomorrow, during class. You must wear it all day long. However, you may notice some of the items in here are not made of typical cloth. You'll know them when you see them. These particular items you do not have to wear until fourth hour. Once on, though, you will need my permission to take them off. I'll see you at the same time after school tomorrow as I will see (saw, by the time you read this) you today. Oh, also, give my house a call and leave a message for my mother. Tell her that you're worried about me not catching up on the current assignment, so you've offered to come over this Saturday to help and I accepted. XOXO - Mistress Darla"

    My courage was down after reading all that, so I didn't go through the rest of the box. It seemed I couldn't cry anymore. I had a numb feeling. I couldn't believe what was happening. I closed the box and put it into my briefcase. I had to clear out room for it, but there was no way I was going to answer any questions about it when I went to the office for Darla Greene's home number. Most of the contents of my briefcase were placed in my desk. Once I could close it, I picked up my briefcase and purse, smoothed out my clothes, and left the room. Walking through the school, it almost seemed it didn't happen at all, and I almost decided not to go to the office. My stomach was still tied up in knots and I could feel a breeze up my skirt reminding me what happened, though, so I did. The assistant didn't ask why I needed a student's number, and I was glad for it. I didn't think I had it in me to lie to her, but I'd have been forced to. The walk out to my car and the drive home were both gloomy, even though the sun was still out. When I got to my apartment, I put my stuff by the door and took a shower. Memories of Chad got me through the shower without tears. I wondered if I would ever enjoy being with Darla. Perhaps I could just pretend she was Chad. Heck, I had never been with a woman before, maybe I'd end up enjoying it. I hoped, at least, I didn't find it as disgusting as I imagined I would. I didn't intend to sleep so early, it was only about five PM, but I found myself drifting off as I thought about it.

Humiliation

I awoke earlier than usual, but I still had a mild headache. It was dark out. I glanced at the clock as I sat up, it was 3 AM. I was surprised that I didn't have the initial daze of just having woke up, but I had fallen asleep somewhere around 5 PM. I had gotten more than enough sleep and wasn't woken up by the alarm, so it made sense. And then I remembered the previous day. I remembered why I was so stressed out that I fell asleep so early. I still had my bath robe on as I walked to the kitchen. My briefcase was still on the table. I supposed it was better to look inside it now than later. I got out the box and the envelope. I looked through the envelope first. It appeared all the photos were taken from the same spot, or somewhere very near it. I would have to find last year's seating arrangements to see who might have set up a camera. I also made a mental note to find out about camera timers, to see how the photos could be taken when someone wasn't immediately using it. Besides that, the pictures simply reminded me that I was going to be forced into being Darla's 'bitch'.

    I thought for moments about the options. I had the option of filing a suit against Darla, since she was now legally an adult, but I would still be out a career, and possibly in prison. I love teaching, and truly fear going to prison. Not because of what might happen while I'm in prison, but I lived by myself, I was my own woman. What about my stuff? What would happen to it, who would take care of it all? My car? I wouldn't be able to pay to renew my license plates, and it would eventually get impounded. No, going to prison was not the worst part of going to prison. And what about a job at all? I know applications say that having been found guilty of felonies won't have an effect on getting hired, but I knew better than that. Of course employers look at that, and of course they prefer employees who have not been found guilty of felonies to those that have. I could work fast food, probably. But then my second problem. Teaching. I really do love teaching. If this were to become known, I would never be able to teach again.

    So then, I thought, perhaps I could confront Darla. Tell her I refuse to give in to her demands, and tell her to give me all the copies of the images she has. But that wouldn't do any good. I really had no leverage in this. I had nothing against her, she had nothing to lose. not in the way I did. I have no power over her as she does me. The best that could happen is... well, she might do as I say, but how rational is it to take that chance? Was I really ready to be a lesbian's plaything? There was no other option I was willing to take, though, so the question was moot. ready or not, that was what I was going to have to do.

    Defeated, I opened the box. The instructions were in it, so I read them over. I would have to take them with me, later, I decided. I put them in my briefcase so I wouldn't forget them. Maybe if I pleased Darla enough, she wouldn't use her power to torment me even more. I unfolded the tissue and saw a blouse atop other clothes, and what looked like a large banking bag to the side. I pulled out the blouse and held it up. It was white, had an elegant amount of lace, and was low cut. It was lower than I would normally choose to wear, but I don't think there would be any real problems with it. It did look like it conformed to the teacher's dress code so far as I could remember it, and maybe I'd find a jacket in my closet that would look good with it. I set that to the side and pulled out the next garment. It was a black skirt with small pleats at the bottom. A short skirt. A very short skirt. I really didn't believe I would get away with wearing a skirt so short to the school. I didn't remember actually reading or being told a skirt's minimum length but I knew there was one, and this was shorter than it. I thought up a solution. I could simply wear it to school, then ask the principal before school started if it was alright. I'd bring another with me. It was obviously Darla's intentions that I don't get fired, after all. My job was part of the power she had over me.

    Having settled that, in my mind, I set the skirt to the side. Underneath it was a bra. It was my size. How had Darla known my size? It was black and did more to lift my breasts than to keep them comfortable, which is usually what I go for. That on the side, the last item of clothing in the tissue was a black stringy thing. I held it out. It was lacy, thong panties with a small heart near the top of the front, cut out from the material by design. The last time I wore a thong, it was a piece of lingerie. It made me feel sexy at the time, but I only had it on for maybe ten minutes. If I had to wear this all day it would bother me, I knew it. In conjunction with the skirt? Maybe I could call in sick. I did have a headache, after all. But then what if Darla got angry? Damn, she truly did have the power to make me wear this to work!

    After breathing deeply and setting the thong atop the other clothes, I determined the "items not made of typical cloth" must be in the bank bag. I took it and pushed the empty box across the table, setting the bank bag down in front of me. I unzipped it, and pulled out a large tube of shaving cream. The can said it was for sensitive skin. Obviously she wanted me to have this to shave my pubic hair. Which, of course, I would have to do. It was something I had done few times before, and then for men. I usually felt very sexy when a man saw it so clean, but to do it for Darla... I was growing angry and sad as I went through these things. next out was an expensive, triple blade razor, and a small container of lotion that said it helped keep hair from regrowing. After that was a note. There were things below the note, but I decided to read the note before getting them, "I realize it may not be obvious how to use the harness. What you do is place the base of the dildo and butt-plug in the circles along the middle strap, and then just tighten it all up snuggly. Oh, and in case I forget to tell you, you're not allowed to wear anything today if it's not in this box. Except shoes, of course."

    I was terrified as I dropped the note and dumped out the bag. On the table under it was, as I had feared, a dildo, butt-plug, and a leather panty looking contraption, all black, plus a tube of what I could presume was a lubricant. I held down the wide and long center strap of the panty thing, and saw the two circles. I placed the dildo base first into the circle, and it fit perfectly. I looked at the buckles on the side and front. Yes, I could figure out how it worked. It struck me with fear. The harness was worn like panties. It was worn snuggly to hold the dildo in place. And the butt-plug?! I looked at the black plug. A conical thing with a large groove near the base. I've never had anything in my butt before. Guys have wanted to but I knew it'd hurt, so I never wanted to. But now I would have to put something up there myself!

    It was too much, I left everything on the kitchen table and went to the living room. I was going to get my mind off of this horror. I turned on the TV, but there was nothing good on. It wasn't even 4! Normally I'd get up at six, so I decided to kill those few hours with a movie. I didn't chose one so much as grab one and put it in. It wound up being 'The Little Mermaid'. Ariel had just gone to see Ursula when my alarm began to go off. At first I was curious why it was set so early, but then I realized my TV was all blue and I was groggy. I had fallen asleep again! I jumped up and ran to my room, which was only about ten feet away. It was only a few minutes past six. I turned off my alarm and almost ran to get into the shower. As I got to the bathroom door, though, I realized I would have to do things I didn't want to that day. Private things, things that necessitated I go get the shaving cream I was given. I put a lot of effort into getting rid of all my hair. After all, if I did please Darla, perhaps she would be nice to me. Besides, I did like how I looked without all that hair, so it was pleasing to me anyway. When my shower was over and I was all shaved and clean, I looked at myself in the mirror. I liked it. I did look sexy without the hair. I always did like how it looked, I supposed. But I couldn't get my reason for doing it off my mind, so I couldn't really enjoy it.

    I almost went to my room to get dressed, but then remembered where the clothes I was to wear that day were. The bra was no problem to put on. It's cups were smaller than I was used to, in a revealing way. It was obviously made for show instead of utility, but that wasn't really that big a deal. I knew it'd get uncomfortable near the end of the day, but not much. The blouse was next. I would have felt better if I could wear a jacket above it, but when it came right down to it, it wasn't so bad. It was sexy, but not too slutty. Of course, I was wearing it to teach at a high school, so I couldn't help but feel that anything sexy was too slutty. But I refused to think about it until I had to. This was something I had to do whether I liked it or not, so I might as well not worry over it.

    The thong fit me well. I couldn't get used to the idea of wearing it as underwear, though. It didn't feel like I was getting ready to go to work. It didn't even feel like I was getting ready to go on a date. It felt like I was getting ready to seduce someone. I put the skirt on over it, and it did nothing for me. I could look down and see that it was there, but I could still feel the air as though it wasn't. Now that it was on, even looking, I was convinced I wouldn't get away with wearing it. I walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I could have sworn I had seen business women wearing skirts that size, but I could have been thinking wishfully. I turned around. I could see far too much of my own thighs. I bent over a bit, and still could only see thigh. I decided to go all out. I touched the floor. Sure enough, I could see the very bottom of my butt, and the material of the thong over my more womanly parts. I immediately went to my closet and got another skirt and blouse, like I normally wear. I almost changed into them, but remembered why I had on what I did in the first place. I folded the skirt around the butt-plug, dildo, harness, and lubricant, and placed it and my other blouse in my briefcase. I got to the door with my briefcase and purse, but stood for what I estimated was five minutes before getting up the courage to actually leave.

    Finally in my car, I realized I was running late. I sped to work even faster than usual, to be sure I made it before any sizable number of students. I marched, albeit slowly, to the principal's office. The air in the school seemed to move more, and was colder. I was well aware how little I actually had on. I planned to search Darla's home for all her copies of the pictures, and the video she mentioned tomorrow, Saturday. This outfit was simply too embarrassing My face felt very hot when the principal turned his chair to face me. He was a middle aged man, and I could see his eyes take in not only my outfit, but also what it barely contained. I hesitated. The heat and pressure kept me from being able to think how to form my question. He finished appraising me and asked, "Lisa, is something up?"

    I was surprised. Nothing about my attire, "Well, uh...", I suppose I hesitated too long. He smiled. I'm sure he thought I was trying to impress him. He was recently widowed, and not exactly uncharismatic. But not my type, and I was sure the age difference would bother me anyhow. I had to say something before he asked me out! "Mr. Zimmerman, I have a date later today. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to make it home with all the things I have to do, but I'm scared it's a little too..."

    As I thought what word to use, he finished my sentence, "Little?"

    "Yes.", I answered, "I must admit I feel a little exposed. I hadn't though about that earlier. Anyway, is this alright?"

    I was lying to my boss! The hypothetical cover I had thought of on my drive in just came out! Oh well, he was leaning forward (putting obvious effort into not staring at my chest) answering before I could really feel too badly about it, "Well, it technically doesn't break the dress code. I'll allow it today, but don't be surprised if the dress-code gets revised."

    "Of course. Sorry. I didn't think about it.", I was glad to get out of there. Of course, I didn't get the answer I wanted. I really thought he'd tell me the skirt was inappropriate, and I'd have to change. Darla would have to understand. I'm positive the only reason he allowed it is because he liked what he saw. The way he was looking at me. It was... well, actually it felt a little good. I felt sexy. But with the wrong person. And what were the students going to say?! Should I just ignore when they inevitably look at what's on such proud display? I couldn't punish them for looking at what I was showing, after all. And what if I dropped something? I'd have to pick it up. But facing them, they'd see right down my blouse. Facing away, they'd get a view of my butt! I'd have to just not drop anything.

    I started my first period the way I normally did; I outlined what I expected on Monday on the chalkboard. Whenever I reached too high with my writing arm, though, I got the impression that side of my skirt was lifting too high. There was no way I'd know without testing it or being told, however. I wasn't going to test it out, and I couldn't rely on the students to tell me. The girls would be embarrassed or offended, and the boys wouldn't want to tip me off. I just stopped writing so high on the board. Right there five minutes in, though, I dropped my piece of chalk. It took me a moment to realize I stopped talking. Everyone was staring. Apparently, they were as curious what I'd do as I was. Finally, I simply picked back up where I left off, using an entirely different piece of chalk that was fortunately on the far side of the board. I'd just pick up the dropped piece after class. I thought it was fairly clever, even though it didn't quite restore my posture. I felt detached. I was giving my lesson by rote, paying more attention to how to stand or move to avoid my skirt flying up than caring if the students were paying attention. Indeed, I hoped they weren't.

    The first period was more stressful than I realized. When I sat down right before the bell rang (was I really standing in front of all those students for almost the whole hour in that outfit?), I didn't want to get back up. My chair was more comfortable than it had ever been. Even more noticeably, though, was that I could feel the cushion of the seat directly on the very bottom of my butt cheeks and on my thighs. Fortunately, my desk had a covered front, so I could scoot my seat in and not worry about my skirt so much. As the next class filed in, I realized I was hot from embarrassment. The boys who came in did anything from cast nervous glances at my chest to ogle at my cleavage. Why had I ever given in to my desires for Chad?! Why had he made a move on me?! Why didn't I tell him no?!

    But class started, and I had to teach it. I was about to stand, as usual, but I realized I could simply go over what I had written for the last class on the board from behind my desk for both that and the next period! That's exactly what I did. I knew I'd have a problem later, when each of my classes was a different subject. Oh, and I just then remembered Darla would be in fourth period. Would I be able to remain calm? And I'd have to use that... that harness. I'd have to be even more careful not to allow my skirt to flip up or to bend too far, or to write too high on the board. After explaining what I had to for the class, I allowed them to work on their assignments. I worked out how to deal with reducing the chance someone would see something embarrassing, for me anyhow, for the latter three classes. If I could make it through fourth period, with Darla, I believed I could make it through the other two. Even if all she did was stay in her seat and read, I'd be very nervous.

    Third hour came and I stuck to my plan of sitting down and pointing at the board for it. When it was over, I decided to skip lunch. I was hungry, and I didn't even have a breakfast, but I was certainly going to avoid the huge mass of students at the lunch room, and especially the other teachers in the teacher's lounge. I reworked my schedule to allow me to avoid writing on the board for most of the lunch. I snacked on M&Ms I found in my purse and some water. It wasn't nearly enough, but it would have to do. I wrote on the board what I thought I needed for fourth period.

    It took me too long to plan, though. Five minutes before the end of lunch bell, and I still had to put on that blasted harness. I hurried to the nearest bathroom with my briefcase being on the second floor and so far from the cafeteria, there were no students visible the entire way and the bathroom was vacant. I picked the stall against the wall. I had realized before then I would have to take off my thong. I rolled up my skirt to my waist, pulled the thong down and balled it up. I pulled my other skirt out of the briefcase and unrolled it on the floor at the side of the toilet against the wall, so that nobody would come in and glance under the bathroom stall doors and see what was in it. I picked up the dildo and the tube of lubricant. I applied the lubricant liberally and set the dildo base down on the back of the toilet. Next was the butt-plug. It seemed much too big to put in my butt. It was four or more inches long, and probably two inches wide near the bottom. I applied the lubricant anyway. There was no reason to let my worry now prevent my career in the future. I hated Darla as I put lubricant on the butt-plug. I tried to think of a way to get away with not putting it in, but I wasn't sure how she'd check if it was in or not anyhow. Besides, I was going to try to please her, today, to get her to be nice to me. Hopefully. I set it next to the dildo as I rubbed the extra lubricant on my hand along my inner labia.

    I pretended it was six months ago. About then, Chad and I were in this very stall. It was after school, then, and one of our last times. He thought it wasn't romantic enough, but I insisted. What was it about him? With such thoughts and ignoring that I was actually doing this because of Darla, I began to enjoy rubbing myself. The feeling I was doing something naughty was still there, even if Chad wasn't. He was in my mind. I moved the butt-plug and set it, base down, on my other skirt. Just to be sure I wouldn't accidentally knock it into the toilet. I got the dildo and sat on the edge of the toilet. I tried to mimic the position I was in with Chad, and I rubbed the head of the dildo against my slit. I shaved for him, then. Pretending the dildo was Chad, I pushed it in. Deeper, deeper, deeper, all the way. It was bigger than Chad's, but that only enhanced the memory. I tried to duplicate Chad's, by then barely proficient, thrusts. I was actually enjoying myself. Even nearing orgasm. Then the bell rang. Lunch was over, girls would soon flood into the bathroom. I had to be out of there before that. I shoved the dildo deep inside, pretending Chad had cum in me. He never had, we used protection. But that didn't stop the idea from being appealing.

    I quickly grabbed the butt-plug with my right hand, the one not holding the dildo in, and got up. Leaning against the wall, I placed it behind me and aimed at my anus. I hesitated. How could I shove something up my butt? I had to, though, and quickly. So, I shoved. It didn't go immediately in, and with the thoughts of Chad still there, it almost felt good. Almost. When it started penetrating, it wasn't so good. It felt... gross. Then it started to hurt. It was hard to keep pushing in, and it stretched my asphincter out in more pain, but I had to get it in, so I kept pushing. It stretched out my butt in uncomfortable ways. It was mildly painful, and all uncomfortable. I moved the dildo around to see if it would help, but it just felt good and I tightened my muscles down there. that, in turn, made the butt-plug hurt more. I hurried and grabbed the harness and positioned the waist band before positioning the harness part itself. I tightened it to where it would stay in place and hold things the way it's supposed to. I don't recommend it for others. The dildo was pressed too far in and the butt-plug still stretched me out. I felt overly filled to the point of pain. I rolled my skirt down, though it did nothing to make me feel secure. The worst part is that, with the harness on, the skirt sat a bit higher on me. I had to get to class, though. I had to have faith that it covered enough. I would simply not bend over, as my plan had been all day. I quickly grabbed my thong and other skirt and thrust them into my briefcase I left the stall just as a group of three girls gabbed their way in. They quieted when they saw me, but I ignored them and hurried to my classroom.

    Did they see the harness? The harness was easily thicker than the thong, and since it was pressing things into me I couldn't help but imagine that people could see it all under my skirt. The idea was helped along due to the fact that I was forced into a wide gated step. The wind of the halls was more obvious on my thighs and above, and the skirt bounded around. I tried to reduce it's bounce and my gate, but I was sure my posture was noticeably different to anyone who payed attention. It hurt more trying to hide it, but this was certainly I something I couldn't let people on about. My faith that my skirt covered it was shaky, but not gone. How could I have gotten to class without it? I wouldn't have gone, that's for sure. Damn that Darla! What if she was going to ruin my reputation and career in one blow? Why would she do that? Then, why did she know so much about me?

    When I arrived in class, several students had already shown up. I looked to the seat I dreaded getting filled that day. Sure enough, Darla was in it. She was dressed in a knee-length skirt and button up shirt. Both black, of course. She glanced around the room and, secure nobody was looking, she licked her lips at me seductively. I found it just the opposite of seductive. I got to my seat as quickly as I could and finally tore my gaze form her, down to the papers on my desk. Sitting down put some extra pressure on the bottom of the harness, and stretched me a bit more. I ignored the discomfort. There was a new paper on my desk. It read;

    "bitch,

    Find a reason to end up at my desk to help me out at least once during this class.

     XOXO - Your Mistress."

    It was right on the top of my other papers, and I crumpled it and put it in my top drawer. I didn't think that bitch was thinking this through. What if somebody else saw that note? I looked up at her and gave her what I supposed would be a warning glance. She remained smug. Just as a small line of students entered the door, the dildo began to vibrate slightly. I heard a very slight hum from between my legs. I won't deny that it felt good, but it was humiliating. Darla was, effectively, playing with my privates in the middle of class. It got me to ponder how truly horrible things might be without this career, my home, car, or anything else I loved. I noticed the two small remote car starter looking devices on her desk. That's how she did it. I momentarily considered going back to the bathroom and changing into my other skirt. I didn't. Of course I had already committed myself to this course, so until she tried to get me to do something that would have the same effect as me losing my career, I knew I wouldn't do anything about it. Fortunately, I had a small radio on my desk, so I turned it on an oldies station very softly. It wouldn't interfere with class, but would drown out the humming. I must have altered my facial expressions, because she had a triumphant looking giggle and then manipulated one of the devices on her desk. The vibration and noise of the dildo stopped. I knew what it meant that she had two of them. I was going to try to appease her so that she wouldn't use them during class. Of course. Again, she gave me no choice but to kiss her ass. In less than a day, her new title for me became reality.

    Once all the students came in I pointed out the notes I wrote out on the board. I started going into my lecture about the common mistakes I had seen and how to avoid them. I avoided looking at Darla entirely. I knew it would make me lose my train of thought. A few minutes into my lecture, the dildo began to vibrate again. this time more softly than it had before. I paused and looked at Darla. She nodded at me and raised her eyebrows as though curious what I was saying. I ignored it as well as I could as I concluded the lecture and gave the students the rest of class to do work. I got out a notebook and began to write a note in it. The dildo vibrated a little harder as I wrote. I looked up at Darla, who moved her hand over one of the devices, and made a "come here" motion under her desk with her other hand. I was pretty sure no other students saw it, so I nodded at her and pointed to the notebook. The power of the dildo's vibrating still slowly increased, and the butt-plug joined in on the action. I quickly finished what I was writing and got up before the vibrations would be loud enough for the students near Darla to hear, once I got over there. I sighed inwardly with pleasure as I stood up. That was unexpected, but what did I expect? That a vibrator would not feel good? I was still uncomfortable, but... in a weird, pleasant way. A way that made me hate Darla more.

    They both turned off when I stood all the way up and had lifted the notebook from my desk. I mouthed to Darla, "Thank you." The rest of the class was absorbed in their work or gossiping quietly. A few students were reading. I was confident none had seen the exchange, and I was exceptionally happy the vibrating stopped while I was walking into the row Darla was in. And by "walking", I mean "attempting to appear to be walking normally". I must have been successful, since nobody seemed to notice it. I don't know how I'd expect them to look if they did, though. The air seemed more obvious as it hit the slightly wet spot around the dildo. It felt like everyone was looking at me because they could see how wet I had gotten, when in fact the only people looking at me, that I could see, where looking at my chest. Including Darla Why did I have fun with the dildo? How did I not see that coming? I spoke very quietly with Darla about the assignment, but the real discussion was on the paper in my notebook. the original message I wrote was, "Please, Mistress, don't turn on the vibrators during class. We can do whatever you want when I see you after class, but we cannot let other students figure out what's happening, or else your power over me might end prematurely as I lose my job anyway."

    Her reply was, "I saw you while it was on. You enjoyed it, bitch. Oh, and it's YOUR job to please me enough that you don't lose your job. Do what I say and I'll be sure your job is safe. Speaking of doing what I say, there's a boy in the corner, Jason, who's looking at you and hoping you'll bend over a bit. I bought that harness, so I know it looks just like a strange leathery underwear from the outside, so he won't know what's up if you just bend over a little and whisper 'I'm you're little bitch, I want to eat your pussy and lick your clit, Mistress' into my ear. be sure to bend far enough that he gets happy. Don't stand straight again until you have permission."

    I couldn't bring myself to do that immediately, of course. I had worried all day over avoiding exactly things like that. Jason was indeed in the back corner. My first reaction was to tell her no, but she was right. If I don't please her, I lose my job. Darla herself was in the back row, and the only seat between me and Jason was vacant, so he was almost sure to be the only one who saw. As I was just about to do as Darla said, the vibrator started up slowly, again. I tried to look like I was simply readjusting. I took a step back and leaned on the back of Darla's chair with one arm. With my other I pointed to places on what was her rough draft, as I made superficial talk about the assignment. We were using her rough draft to cover the messages as we read them. I moved my arm on the back of her chair to the desk, and bent over a little as I continued pointing at things and discussing her rough draft.

    "Further", she wrote. I bent down so that my mouth was even with her ear. " Arch your back", I did as she wrote. I was positive Jason could see the bottom of my butt-cheeks, as well as the harness. He could make out that it was pushing a dildo and butt-plug into me. "Put your left foot two tile squares away from your right." Again, I did as she said. I didn't have the choice not to. Jason might have been getting a good show, but I knew nothing was happening that I might lose my job over. At least, nothing anyone would know was happening just by looking. I could get in trouble, but I doubted that would actually happen. "Now, what did you have to say to your Mistress?"

    I glanced around the room, both to see if anyone was looking and to figure out how quiet I had to be so that nobody would hear me besides Darla. I whispered into her ear what she had written, "I'm you're little bitch, I want to eat your pussy and lick your clit, Mistress."

    "Acceptable.", she wrote. She turned off the vibrator and then smiled at me as though something hilarious just happened. She wrote, "Jason has a boner!"

    The room was spinning. The heat was nearly unbearable. I wrote, "Please, Mistress, let me stand straight! I might faint!"

    "Fine, if you're that excited about turning on a fat teenager with your sexy ass, you have permission to stand straight.", She replied, "However, before I promise not to turn on the vibrators any more during class, you're going to go get me the key to this classroom from your key chain."

    I was enraged as I took my notebook and walked up to my desk. I wanted to ask her why she wanted my key, but I realized I could ask her when I gave it to her and wanted to get away from her right then. I sat for a moment, but didn't want Darla to think I was hesitating, so I got into my purse and played with my keys visibly as I acted like I was reading a paper on my desk. I glanced over at Jason as I did it, and it did look like he had an erection. He also looked away when I looked up at him. This was easily the most humiliated I had ever been. I certainly did not want to go around flashing students for the rest of the school year! I'm their teacher, that's simply not acceptable! The vibrators.. they weren't merely uncomfortably stuffed into me, but they were a part of Darla's will. She was invading my very being. And there was nothing I could do. I finally got the key off my chain and put my key chain back into my purse, as I palmed that particular key. I acted like I finished reading something, and Darla put up her hand as though to ask a question. I got up and walked back over to her desk. I wanted to get as far away from her as I could, but so long as she was in class, I had to do every little thing she asked me. She was bright, she wouldn't push me so far I might lose my job, but she sure wanted to humiliate me. I hoped she wouldn't push me to do something that might make me lose my job, anyhow.

    I placed my notebook back on her desk. A new line on the page said, "Why do you want that?"

    She wrote, "What did you forget? Who am I, bitch?!"

    "You're my Mistress and I'm your humble bitch.", I wrote down. It was getting hot again, and not in the way I'd enjoy. Darla would enjoy it, though.

    She replied, "That's a good little bitch. Remember your place and the rules your Mistress gave you. Particularly number 3. Now, I will not turn on the vibrators while class is in session. When class is out of session... well, we'll see. However, you must promise to eat my pussy like it's an exotic delicacy, later. You will do the best job you know how to."

    How else could I reply that would please her and get her to stop humiliating me except, "Oh, yes Mistress, I am your little bitch. I promise to eat your pussy really well. I'm sure I'll think it's delicious!"

    She seemed pleased, so wrote more instructions for me, "Fifteen minutes after school gets out, you will take off your clothes, leaving the harness on, and lock the classroom door. You will sit on your knees with your hands on your head right in front of the door, pressing your tits against it, and you will not move from that spot until I give you permission. Rewrite those orders in your own words so that I'm certain you understand them."

    Again, my only option was to comply. I felt faint again, so hurried. I hoped she wouldn't make every day this difficult, "I, my Mistress' bitch, will wait in this room for fifteen minutes after school gets out. Once that time has passed, I will remove all of my clothes, but keep on the harness. I will lock my door and get on my knees in front of it. I will press my breasts against it and wait for you with my hands on my head. I will wait for permission from you, my Mistress, to leave that pose at the door. One question, though, what if it's not you getting into the classroom?"

    She replied, "Don't toy with me, bitch, the janitors clean upstairs at four or later. Only the teachers, principal, and janitors have a key to each room, and the teachers only their own. Unless you expect to see the principal, you have no reason to worry."

    "But I showed the principal my outfit to see if it was okay. He might stop buy to discuss changes to the dress-code."

    "Don't forget who I am, bitch! And it's Friday. He will leave as soon as he can. However, just to be on the safe-side, I will knock thrice before beginning to unlock the door. If the door or lock rattles without those knocks, get dressed very quickly. Don't worry about your bra. You may leave your clothes next to you to aid the contingency. Before going back to your seat, remind me again what you are and what you want to do."

    I sighed. I was almost out of things to say about the assignment for cover, but it looked like she was letting me go anyhow, "I am your bitch, Mistress. I want to please you in every way. I fantasize that your pussy tastes delicious. I want to eat it and lick your clit."

    "Good bitch. Go sit down and be the good bitch you are.", She finally let me get back to my seat. Not only was the irony not appreciated, but I felt very low then. I discovered I had no integrity. I would say anything to avoid getting humiliated and to keep my job. Earlier I had wanted to get the day over with, but now I was dreading the end of the school day and wanted it to last longer. I went over my notes, even though I was distracted with my horror. And whenever I looked up, I'd notice either Jason was looking at me funny or Darla licked her lips or made a kissy face. I made a mental note to not look up.

    Suddenly, the class was over. The bell was going off. I hadn't realized how distracted I had gotten with my thoughts. The instant the bell ended, the dildo began to vibrate. As students filed out, Darla remained at her desk. Moments after the last student, Jason, left the room, Darla motioned me over to her. I was angry with her still being there and having the dildo on. My plan was to write on the board between classes, and this threw it off. When I got to her desk, she lightly caressed my right thigh and spoke, "I'm going to skip my next class and stay here, bitch. Tell me where nobody has a seat assigned so I can sit in it before people show up."

    "Yes, Mistress.", I answered softly and pointed to the seat two spaces up from hers. I thought I might have allowed my anger to show through in my voice. I hoped she hadn't caught it. She moved her stuff to the new seat and got comfortable, "Anything else, Mistress?"

    "That should be fine. Oh, you might want to turn your radio up a little bit. Class is not in session.", she answered. She touched the two devices she had and not only did the dildo get faster, but the butt-plug began vibrating fairly strongly, as well. I tried to ignore it as I "walked" to the front of the class, but the sensation was very strong. As embarrassed and angry as I was, my body reacted as any would. The sound was noticeable if I didn't drown it out, so I turned the radio up and began to write what I needed to on the board. The strength of the vibrators alternated back and forth as students began to enter and sit down. I found myself pretending Chad was still in school, and he had the remotes to the vibrators He wouldn't purposefully embarrass me, he would just try to get me to have fun. And he wouldn't use them during school. It was a difficult fantasy to hold onto. I was sure my skirt was up too high. I could feel it, and I could feel the student's eyes on my butt. I pulled it down as far as it would go, but it didn't seem to get far enough.

    The bell rang and the vibrators shut off. I felt a drip going down one leg. The air the skirt never bothered stopping could be felt against the wetness around my crotch and on my leg. My god, what if the students could smell my arousal? My FORCED arousal. I finished quickly and sat down in my seat, turning the radio down. Every student seemed to move suddenly when I turned around, but there was nothing I could do. I'd have to speak with Darla to get her to understand I cannot be humiliated in class like this. It should take place after or outside of school, though I'd prefer never. But there was nothing I could do about it now. The story of my day. Hopefully not my future. I followed my plan. I discussed what I planned to from my desk, just as earlier in the day. Class went mostly uneventfully. I had a student come up to my desk and stair down my blouse, but his question was valid and he was soon handled.

    When the bell rang, the vibrators started back up. I turned the radio back up and watched the students leave class. Darla remained. I approached her and said, "Mistress, please don't do things like this to me at school. This first day taught me my place, please allow me to at least appear to be a professional."

    She scowled and then pouted, "You should remember the rules, then. You spoke without permission and we are alone."

    "I apologize, Mistress."

    "You'll be punished for it later, of course."

    "Yes, rightly so, Mistress." I answered, though I certainly disagreed. I was shaking with anger. As I waited for her to give me permission to speak, she reached up and under my skirt. I was sure my face showed how bad I thought the idea was, but nobody else was in the room, and I didn't want to anger her by backing away if I didn't need to.

    "Oh God, that's a powerful vibrator! It's only at about a third of it's maximum power!", She said as she placed her hand on the bottom of the harness, right where it was holding the dildo.

    "Yes, Mistress, I know.", I answered shortly.

    "And you're so wet.", She stated almost questioningly. She removed her hand and pressed a leverish thing on one of the devices up.

    It felt very good. As embarrassed and angry as I was, the dildo was designed specifically to please a woman. The humming was easily heard, and I began to tremble with the feeling. Against my will. I did not want to feel so good. I did not want to let someone I hated so much make me feel that way, "Please, Mistress."

    "Okay, say what you will. Quickly, the Vibrator remains at such a strength until you're done.", She said calmly.

    "Mistress, I'm sorry for speaking out of turn. I simply wanted to let you know I think it's unwise to make me dress this way when I'm at work and trying to be a professional."

    "I'll consider it if you prove how good a little bitch you can be before next Monday.", She said as she turned down the vibrators.

    It still felt better than I wanted it to, but I didn't want to show it. A student walked in as I quietly said, "Thank you, Mistress. I'll be the best bitch ever.", That frightened me, so I went to go write on the board. The music drowned out the vibrators as the students entered, but I was still slightly trembling. I could feel the air against drips down both legs, and I could even faintly smell my own juices. When I turned around, Darla was just exiting the isle of desks and turning towards the door. She turned her head to me and winked, then continued to the door. When she got to the door, the vibrators stopped. I finished writing on the board shortly after the bell. Though I was certain everyone could smell my juices and saw the bottom of my butt, that period went uneventfully. I went over what was on the board from my chair and told the students to work on their projects as soon as I could get that far. I used some of the tissues on my desk to wipe my thighs dry. Both the dildo and butt-plug still gave me pleasant sensations for a while. I hated having them, but my libido didn't seem to care about the same things I did. I decided to pass the time by reading a book. I chose one of the books in the class, since I didn't bring any of my own. They were in arm's reach from my desk. A few students came up to the desk to ask me questions, and they were all boys. Aside some poorly disguised peeks at my cleavage, nothing else of concern happened.

    Then class was over. I was terrified. I didn't even wish the students a good weekend like I usually do. They all left the classroom, many of them looking back at me one last time before leaving. There was a crowd of boys near my door for a few minutes, but I ignored them and they eventually left. I got up and shut the door as soon as nobody could see me. With the door shut, it was guaranteed. I locked it, as well. No reason not to. Though the vibrators had felt good earlier, they weren't being powered any more, and they began to get uncomfortable again. I cried for a few minutes, allowing the accumulated anger to roll out in the form of tears. Waiting and wondering, I looked up at the clock. It was almost ten minutes after school got out. The buses and most students with cars probably already left. The only remaining students would be the football players and cheerleaders, but they'd never come to this side of the school, let alone the second floor. They had a game to get ready for. I seemed to be done crying. I didn't cry very powerfully anyway. I used some water from my bottle and some tissues to clean my eyes and make-up.

    I found myself playing with the harness. I rolled my skirt up to my waist and tried to make it more comfortable. There was no way to do it, of course. Most of the discomfort came from what was in me, not on me. I felt like pacing, but I was too uncomfortable to do it. All the walking I had done earlier with these in me, trying to hide the fact, it was catching up with me. I felt like I was cramping, but the cramp never fully developed. The minutes were passing by so slowly. Eleven minutes after school got out. All I could think about a few minutes earlier was getting the harness off, finally, but it'd be on for a while. I was more concerned, now, with what was going to happen when Darla showed up. I half hoped the Principal did show up, so I had a reason not to do what I knew Darla was going to make me do.

    I bent over how I thought I had earlier, in fourth period. I looked behind me and felt around with my hands I got out my blush and used it's mirror for a better angle. Jason had indeed seen the bottom of my butt. Most of the bottom of my butt. In addition, he easily saw the leather strap of the harness. However, I found that I was wrong about what students could see as I stood straight. I hoped what I saw in the mirror was true, because that means they didn't actually see my butt, like it felt they did. I still needed to find a way to either get rid of Darla's power over me, or at least convince her stunts like that are a bad idea. I had to wait until Saturday for any real hope, though. Which meant that on that Friday afternoon, I certainly was going to... I couldn't think it. No, I would face it when it happened. My eyes teared a little when I checked the time. Fifteen seconds more. It was going to happen all too soon. I had to think of something to do tonight, some way to trick Darla out of her power. Five seconds. Four. Three. Two. One.

    I waited a moment. I didn't believe I had to take off my clothes in my classroom. It was different with Chad. It was my choice, then. I walked over to the door. I was there for what happened yesterday. I dressed how I was told today. I was uncomfortable because I was doing exactly what Darla wanted. And I'd continue if I thought I might lose my life. Who wouldn't? I decided to try to make Darla happy. At least then she might be nice. Perhaps she'd even get to trust me, and I'd be able to figure out how to get all her copies of the pictures of Chad and me. I turned off the lights before I unbuttoned and pulled my skirt down, pushing it to the side with my foot. It was still light in the room, but facing away from the windows allowed me to wallow a bit in what light they let in through the closed shades. I saw the shaved pubic area around the harness and again wished I had done it for Chad. My blouse was easy enough to take off, as was the bra. I walked over and put my bra in my briefcase, then walked back to the door. My gate was exaggerated this time. I had no reason to hide it, and I was very uncomfortable. Not as uncomfortable as I would be, I knew. Emotionally, this was just the beginning of my discomfort. I got down on my knees. It added some pressure inside my nether region. I placed my hands on my head. I stared at the door for a moment before leaning forward. No key in the lock signifying someone besides Darla. Not even Darla. My breasts touched the door. It was cold. Not very cold, just enough to remind me where I was and what I was doing. The light breeze from the ventilation continually reminded me of my position.

    I found myself pondering possible disasters; What if I mistake a noise the Principal makes as three knocks? What if Darla isn't careful and someone sees me from a classroom across the hall? I couldn't see the clock, so what if I wait as instructed, and then the janitor makes three knock noises and walks in on me? What if there are only two knocks? Will I react quickly enough? How should I react? What if I only hear two knocks, but there actually are three? What if the blinds I couldn't see in this position weren't shut all the way, and a maintenance man just happened to climb a ladder at the right spot and saw me here?

    I thought questions like that for what seemed a really long time, to me. My mind eventually got to thinking about Chad, again; If only it were he making me do this. We never had any kink in our sex. Doing it at school made it feel risky enough. For me, anyway. But if he had played a game like this with me... That's when I realized I would have. Perhaps I simply wanted him to be telling me what to do, and me willing to do it of my own free will, in comparison to what was really happening. Either way, the dildo almost began to feel good again, but my knees began to hurt a significant amount. I shifted my weight a few times, but it didn't help. I eventually learned to deal with it and got back to wanting little more than to remove the blasted harness. I took a chance. I moved from my spot to check the clock. My knees thanks me by cracking as I stood. They did feel better, though.

    It was twenty to three. I was at the door for half an hour. I remained standing for a minute or two. I risked hoping Darla had decided not to show up. I had just began to walk back to my spot when I heard the first knock. My heart skipped a beat. It was really going to happen. I was momentarily dizzy with the realization, and perhaps hunger as well. For food. The second knock soon followed, and I tried to get to the door both quickly and quietly. The third knock sounded right as I began my jolt. They were close together, but apparently I thought a lot in between them. I clunked my knees on the floor. It hurt a lot and I gasped at the ceiling. I could only hope Darla assumed I was shocked at her sudden arrival, and so jumped. The lock was in the process of being unlocked before my hands were on my head. I pressed my breasts against the door just as the handle turned. The door slowly opened just as I stopped moving.

    The door opened slowly. Darla appeared as the door moved out of the way, standing still where she was. She was glowering down at me. She had a yard stick in her hands, one hand near the end, one near the center. It moved from the one near the center, up a few inches. It came back down with a whack, "Where you in your position this whole time?"

    I didn't know how to answer. If I told the truth, I'd be sure to get punished. If I lied and she knew, I'd get punished worse. Either way, she'd be unhappy, and I was trying to get on her good side, albeit to work against her. I decided not to gamble on her lack of perception or trust. She walked behind me. The door remained open. I heard nothing from the hallway, and saw nothing in the rooms across the hall, but I was still very worried. Quietly, I said, "No, Mistress. I got out of my position at the door to check the time."

    She placed the yardstick across my ankles and reached around me. She caressed my breasts, "What are you?"

    Again quietly, I answered, "Your bitch, Mistress."

    "And what do you do?"

    "Whatever you say, Mistress."

    She pinched my nipples and I let out an 'ouch' as she spoke, "Okay. I will swat your ass five times for every time you've disobeyed me since yesterday. Sound fair?"

    I didn't answer. I was trying to deal with the pain on my nipples as well as pondering how to best answer the question. She gave me very little time, though, "Okay, how about six?"

    "What?", I asked, thinking she was getting unfair and worrying. Well, more unfair and worried

    "Then will seven suffice?", she asked as she let go of my nipples and picked up the yard stick again.

    Still quietly, "Mistress, please, if you..."

    She cut me off, "Eight?"

    Quickly, as well as louder than I intended, "Yes, that's fair, Mistress. Eight!"

    "Excellent.", she replied. She stepped to my side and closed the door. It pressed me back by my breasts a bit as it shut. She locked it, and I let out a loud breath in relief. She continued in her role as my Mistress, her role that I hated and wasn't sure I could handle even long enough to trick her out of it. She continued, "bitch, walk to the side of your desk and place each foot on the outside of each of the desks legs on that."

    I got up and realized my knees were going to bruise. Oh, great, even more discomfort. I stumbled over to the desk and put my feet on either side of the side I was facing. Darla continued her instructions once I was there, "No, bitch, bend over your desk and grab the far corners."

    I began to move some of the things on my desk, and Darla made a fast movement I caught in the corner of my eye, since she was to my right. Immediately after the movement, I felt a sharp sting across my right butt-cheek and heard .Whoosh-wak!'. I cried out and grabbed my butt where it hurt, looking at Darla in shock. Before I could think about it I squeaked, "That hurt!"

    She held the yard-stick up with one hand and softly massaged my right breast with her other. She looked at me condescendingly, "Of course it hurt, it was a spanking. Not only that, it didn't count since you covered your butt and complained. It was for not doing what I said. I didn't say to clean off your desk, I told you to grab each corner of it. That earned you one extra spanking, in addition to what you're going to get once you're bent over the desk, since I was being nice and chose not to give you eight for it. However, you put your hand on your butt, instead of the corner of the table, and complained, thereby nullifying the one you got. You did not ask permission to speak earlier, you did not call my mother yesterday, you did not call me 'Mistress' earlier, and just now you did what I explained. You will, therefore, receive 32 spankings with this yard-stick, sixteen per cheek, not counting the one you already got."

    I hadn't imagined she would be this terrible. I was about to say something, but I started crying instead. 32 pains in the butt was worth my job, though. I bent over the desk and cried harder. I tried to stop, but I felt so helpless that I just couldn't. Her hand was out of the way, and I was atop all the papers on my desk. I reached out for the corners of the desk and grabbed on tightly. Just that one swipe hurt enough. It was a mild burn, now, but I wasn't sure I could handle 32 more. That initial pain... 'Whoosh-WAK!', I heard, immediately before I felt the sharp sting on my other butt-cheek. I tried not to, but I shrieked. What would happen if someone was in the hall and heard?! I had to control myself! Just then, another whack. The same sound, the same pain, on the first cheek. That was shortly, too shortly, followed by another strike on the second cheek. Without time to react there was another strike on the first cheek again. I reacted before thinking. I shot up and put my hands over my butt. I looked at Darla, the young woman I hated so much but was powerless to resist, "No, please! *sob* Please, Mistress, have mercy!"

    She was angry, but she was still calm. It reaffirmed her own claims, I was her bitch. It may not have been a rational thought, but it sure seemed that way when I was in that position. She calmly explained her method to me, "bitch... I was being merciful. I was trying to get your spanking done as quickly as I could. It might be a more intense pain for you, but it wouldn't last as long. Now, though, you've ruined the beginning. Now I have to start all over."

    I didn't understand and I was scared, "No, please don't! Why, Mistress? I want to eat your pussy.", I wanted to convince her to stop badly.

    "And you will.", she explained impatiently, "First, though, you have to be punished. Either accept my rules, or I'll go to the principal's office with those pictures right now."

    "Sorry, Mistress.", I barely sobbed out as I leaned back over the desk. I tried to focus on holding onto the desk corners. She began the spanking over again, from number one. The pain, well, it hurt, but the humiliation was the worst of it. I had felt worse pain before. Certainly, I wanted it to end, but my only option was to bare it. It would end soonest if I did that, if I wanted to keep my job. Which I did. More than I wanted to not be in that situation, apparently. Darla counted as she spanked. The spankings were further apart than they were the first time, but still frequent enough that holding the corner was difficult to focus on. When I heard her shout "12", I almost reached back to cover my butt. As soon as that, I realized it would all just begin over again, so I tightened my grip. By twenty, the papers below my face were soaked and I was crying uncontrollably. I focused in on her counting. The pain increased each stroke, but I was nearing the end. It gave me morale. Or, perhaps, it allowed some of my preexisting morale to return after it fled in terror. I was begging, "please, please", by the thirtieth stroke, though begging wouldn't actually make it end. I didn't care, it helped me remain down for the count.

    Finally, the thirty-second stroke landed. though it hurt, I was exceptionally glad it was over. I never knew pain and humiliation could coexist so powerfully. Darla said, "Stay there.", though I didn't have it in me to say anything in reply. My body was trembling. I was tired and upset and... every emotion I could think of, besides positive ones. Nobody had charged in trying to figure out what was making all the noises, so I was at least glad about that. I was also happy it was over. Darla had come back to just behind me. I could hear her. She said, "I'm going to clean the wounds. You're bleeding a bit. Don't move, don't make me, or yourself, go through this all over again."

    Something wet was being drawn across my butt. As soon as the cool sensation hit, another one hit with more force than it. Burning. Alcohol. My grip on the corners was strong again, and I shouted. I was tense, but certainly didn't want to have to get spanked again, and then try to make it through cleaning again. And she said I was bleeding? She made me bleed? Damn her! The worst part of it was that not only did she make me bleed now, but I would submit to it again if it meant keeping my job, career, and life. The cleaning didn't take long and the burning faded only a very small bit, so I cried onto the desk. Darla said something and I felt her pulling me lightly from the desk. I was stood up and turned to face her. My sight was very bleary, but I saw her looking at me. She drew me into her embrace, and I didn't have the strength or will to resist. One of her arms were around me, the other stroked my hair. I cried onto her shoulder until I ran out of tears, and then I breathed heavily and sobbed. She spoke softly to me the whole time, telling me the pain will fade, hush, it's alright now. I might have hated her, but her comforting me was welcome anyway. It was surely better than anything else she had ever done to me.

    She pulled me away from her and took a step back. I wanted to touch my butt and see what kind of damage was done, but worried it would just hurt it. She spoke to me in a soft voice, one that almost seemed caring, "I didn't enjoy doing that, but I had to. You were bad, and needed punished. I hope you learned your lesson. I would rather you just obey me and I won't have to punish you anymore. Here," She pulled out the two devices that controlled the vibrators and turned them on a low setting, "Maybe this will help you feel better."

    She walked behind me, and I turned to watch her. The vibrators annoyed me at first but they were designed for this, and by the time she had sat in my chair they did give me a slight tingling sensation. She rolled her skirt up to her waist. She wasn't wearing any underwear, and she was shaved just as cleanly as I was. She spread her legs and scooted her butt forward until she was sitting on the edge of my chair. A ball developed in my stomach. She was going to make me give her cunnilingus, like she made me say earlier. She made her intentions obvious in her standard, bossy voice, "I'm sure eating my pussy will make you feel better, bitch. On your knees and come here."

    Slowly, I got on my knees. they still hurt, and bending like that caused my butt to burn more. I crawled the several feet over to her and paused in front of her. I sat up on my knees and looked at her face, hoping this was a joke or that I could at least hesitate for a while. She didn't give me either. Instead, she grabbed the sides of my head and pulled my mouth to her vulva. The smell was strong. She was aroused. My mouth was being pressed against it. She seemed to lose patience and demanded passionately, "Eat my cunt, bitch!"

    I opened my mouth and stuck my tongue out, into it. I began to lick around. I got used to the smell enough to pay attention to what I was doing. It was horrible, but it would be horrible whether she was pleased or not, so I figured I'd be done sooner if she orgasmed sooner. I put as much effort into it as I could muster. I was too disgusted for all my effort to be poured into it, and the pain in my knees and butt distracted me as well, but I thought I was doing a good job. She seemed to think I was, anyhow. She was scratching the back of my chair with one arm and lightly scratching my back with the other. She wasn't scratching hard enough to hurt, thankfully. In fact, the vibrators were beginning to work on me, and I soon enjoyed them. Again I didn't want to, but there was, as I've noted before, nothing I could do about it. I worked for a while, and began getting tired. It took what I estimated was about ten minutes, but soon she began talking to me with her increased pleasure, "Yes, bitch! Eat your Mistress' cunt. Suck that clit... Oh, fuck! You're good at this."

    I didn't take it as the compliment some would She increased the power of the vibrators, though. They were more potent than they had been before then, and it felt very good. I couldn't even be angry that it felt good, there were other things I was angry enough to drown that out. At least this way I'd get some pleasure form this, I supposed. Unintentionally, I moaned into her vulva as I worked. Shortly after she began speaking, she arched her back and closed her eyes. She grabbed the sides of my head again, and pushed me into herself fervently. She virtually humped my mouth. She moaned loudly, swearing a bit. She orgasmed, and she held my mouth atop her mound, "Keep eating, bitch! Don't stop until I tell you to!"

    I did keep going. I was frustrated, but maybe she'd stop after her next orgasm. I wanted it to be soon, since the vibrators were making the tingling become much more. I certainly didn't want to orgasm while eating her out. I didn't want to orgasm at all! Not because of her! She became passionate about calling me her nickname for me and talking about what I was doing, again. It took her about five minutes to orgasm again. My mouth was seriously tiring out, and I was scared it would cramp soon. To make matters worse, the vibrators were getting me pretty close myself. As I tried to work with a rhythm that would conserve my mouth's energy, she commented on something that disturbed me to my very core, "I see your ass moving around, bitch. There's no denying you enjoy this, now!"

    Her comment, at the very least, slowed down my approaching orgasm. I tried to get myself to stop gyrating with the pleasure (which was purely physical and beyond my control), but I don't think I succeeded. She had, apparently, opened her shirt to play with her breasts. She would pinch and pull her nipples in ways I'd think hurt her, but she seemed to enjoy it. My orgasm was getting close, but I was working hard to get her to orgasm first. In fact, she started showing signs she was close, but then reached to the desk. Suddenly, the vibrators seemed to explode into action. My orgasm accelerated towards me. She held my head where it was and shouted, "We're gonna cum together, bitch!"

    In fact, we did. She pulled my mouth into her crotch as I unwittingly moaned into it. We spasmed a few times, and she pulled up on my hair and commanded, "In my lap!"

    I was weak, but she maneuvered me to sit on her lap facing her, my legs through the arm rests. Where my butt touched her lap it hurt, but the pain wasn't very bad. She still had my hair, and she pulled me in to her. She kissed me deeply. I pretended she was Chad. The vibrators didn't give me long on whatever setting they were on before I orgasmed again. As the orgasm began, she pulled her hands into her sides, then grabbed my nipples. She pinched them hard. I saw an opportunity. I grabbed her nipples and pinched and pulled like she did to herself earlier. My orgasm faded and my initiative went with it. I stopped pulling on her nipples, even though she still pinched and pulled mine. I looked at her with obvious fear, moving around as she pulled my tits. Her look seemed to indicate she knew I was trying to hurt her, but wouldn't punish me for it so long as I let her continue with my breasts. She said flatly, as she twisted my nipples, "Orgasm again, bitch."

    Breathing heavily, I said, "Mistress, I can't!"

    "Why not, bitch?"

    "It hurts, Mistress!", I said it, but a few seconds later it happened anyway. I orgasmed while she pulled on my nipples. It did hurt, but I orgasmed anyway. As I did, the pain seemed less pain, more pleasure. The instant the orgasm began to fade, though, it was all pain again. She stopped playing with my nipples and turned off the vibrators. My holes felt fuzzy. She leaned me back against the desk and began to unstrap the harness. I was so happy, and I let it show. I smiled. The first time all day, I think. Soon, the harness was off, and she was pulling out the dildo. The dildo was on my desk, and she was pulling out the butt-plug. I was scared there might be a mess coming with it, but I was proven wrong. It looked clean, and my holes felt very empty.

    "Kiss me.", Darla said. I did it. It was a soft kiss on the lips, and she accepted it. I was quickly coming back to my normal state of mind. At least, the fuzz of orgasm was gone. She lifted me from her, and I stood watching her get up. She pulled her shirt closed and rolled her skirt back down, and soon she appeared normal. I never would. I was her bitch. Her plaything. She even made me orgasm when I didn't want to. Three times. I stood waiting to see what would happen.

    When she was done putting her clothes back on, she said, "You can wear only the skirt and shirt I got you until you get home. If you don't call my mother before five o'clock tonight to tell her you're coming to help me with my school work tomorrow, I'll make you suffer all next week."

    I shivered. I knew she could make me suffer. She embraced me and kissed me deeply one more time, though I barely kissed back. After that, she turned away and left. When she shut the door behind her, I could hear her locking it. I collapsed in front of my chair and tried to cry, but I couldn't. I had already cried all my tears.

Visiting Mistress

I had a hard time sleeping that night. The night before I had slept so much because of how stressed I was. However, that sleep wasn't caused by the stress so much as an escape from it. Even sleep didn't give me a leave from the reality of my situation that night. When I did manage to sleep, my dreams were filled with the pains of the previous day. I was forced to wear humiliating clothes. I had sex toys in me at work, in front of children. Most of them hadn't seen it, and my rational mind knew the one who did didn't even realize it, but the chance that they could have, the unnecessary risk of the situation, wouldn't leave my mind.

    The whipping, too. It hurt. It hurt a lot. It's true. But the pain wasn't what made it so horrible. I was forced to do it. In a sense. Darla had power over me. I was not tied to my desk and forced to suffer through it, I was forced to actively put effort into allowing it. And it was for not following rules that were placed on me arbitrarily and suddenly. Rules anyone might forget, and they would probably have forgotten more. She said she didn't enjoy whipping me, but then why did she do it? She has the power, here. She doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to. On the other hand, I do have to do things I don't want to do. I have to do whatever Darla wants. Yes, she enjoyed whipping me alright. The cunnilingus wasn't so bad. Humiliating, but I was already as humiliated as I was going to get, in retrospect. I have nothing against lesbians, or any homosexual. However, I didn't ever want to be involved in homosexuality, either. There wasn't really anything as gross about it as I expected, my problem was the lack of choice and the lack of attraction.

    I awoke one time that night after a dream I was with another woman. It wasn't unpleasant. Unfamiliar, but the dream made it seem just as normal as any relationship I'd ever had. The woman I was with had no identity besides a romantic interest. Perhaps I drew parts of her from both men and women I've known throughout the years. I'm no psychologist, though. Just before the dream ended, she began tying me down. I didn't want her to, but she did it anyway. I fought her, but I was too weak to keep her from tying me up. The dream did that thing where places and people were different without it seeming odd or catching your awareness. I was in college. I was in the hallway of the dorm I lived in as a freshman. Well, it wasn't at all the same, but that's what the location was. I was still tied up. The other woman was younger, suddenly. She was spanking me with her hand, but it hurt tremendously. There was a crowd of students watching. They all clapped and told me I was so lucky to be having sex with her. I cried and shouted. None of them helped me. They couldn't hear my cries for help. They thought I enjoyed it

    It was 9 o'clock AM. Apparently, I slept in. I must have gotten up in a haze and turned off my alarm earlier. I didn't want to get out of bed. I thought back to the principal almost walking in on my naked, trying to cry. After Darla had used me, I tried to cry. I don't know how long I had tried, Managed to get a few tears out. I heard something outside the door. I'm not sure what I heard. Perhaps it wasn't even a sound, but a presence that I felt. My first reaction was to get my clothes on. Why hadn't I before then? Perhaps because they were the clothes Darla had gotten me. I hated them. I shot to the cranny on the other side of the door, where my clothes were. The skirt was easy to put on, so was first. It scraped my butt on the way up, but I ignored the pain in my haste. My shirt took more time, but the door wasn't open until I had gotten it on. It wasn't entirely straight, but wasn't so out of place someone looking at me would wonder why.

    The principal was talking to me. I missed some of it, being distracted with the pounding of my heart. I was almost caught. Almost caught by someone else, anyhow. He was comforting me, saying how he was sorry that whoever I was waiting for didn't show up. I didn't have time to hide that I had been crying. Sort of crying. It was obvious to him something was wrong. He must have assumed the fictitious date had stood me up or otherwise canceled. I told him there was nothing to do about it now, but he insisted that I could rely on him if I needed anything. I picked up my briefcase and purse and left, without saying bye. It was difficult to do without bending and letting him see down my shirt or up my skirt, but I think I did it. I don't know. Maybe.

    9:30 AM. I was supposed to go to Darla's at noon. Her house has caller ID, and so she called me soon after I called her house to leave the message. She told me to wear anything I wanted, and to bring every piece of my underwear I could fit in my briefcase. What was she going to do with my panties? All of them fit in my briefcase, so what was I going to do without panties? What did she intend? Did she simply want me to know how embarrassing it'd be if someone looked and saw them, or was she up to something? Did she want me to count the pair I'd wear? And why did she want me to bring a hundred dollars? Was she going to demand shush-money as well, now? I wanted to go back to sleep. Perhaps forever.

    I only got about fifty minutes. It was almost 10:30. I got up and out of bed. I was still tired and would remain that way all day, given the quality of my sleep. I needed to get ready. Yes, "need". I'm an English teacher, I know how to use it and what it means. People do many things that they need to but do not want to. I simply had to do something I loathed more than anything else I could think of. I had breakfast first. I was very hungry. That may have added to my poor sleep. I had a breakfast cereal. It was my favorite, but it was cold and bitter. I was cold and bitter. I ate it because I needed to. I supposed my life was going to be a lot like that.

    My shower was uneventful. I used cold water. I don't know why. I think I began hating myself. I had no integrity, no dignity. I could be manipulated, controlled, by someone who was supposed to be a student of mine. She made me orgasm. How? I had gotten curious after getting home. I read it up online. Women have problems orgasming even with people they love, how had I orgasmed with someone I hated? Most of the pages I read indicated forcing an orgasm isn't even possible. Well, outside of willful bondage play. But I wasn't willing. I was actually forced. How did it happen? I investigated the dildo and butt-plug themselves. They weren't extraordinary in any way... though they did each say the company's name, followed by "most powerful vibes in the US", which could easily have been a marketing ploy. I was brought back to the shower as I saw the shaving cream. Of course, I used it. Very little had grown, but I thought it would be safe to both avoid allowing it to poke me today, and this way Darla would be pleased and, perhaps, not be a total bitch. Something inside my chest melted into sludge as I realized I would have to put effort not only into doing as she said, but attempting to make her happy. The sludge in my chest was mud. I could almost taste it.

    Before leaving, I read over her rules and thought about them. I was this bitch I was forced to act if I liked it or not, so I was going to avoid getting punished again. Rule 1; Grade her fairly. I figured out how to do this. If I see her paper, I really don't know how I'd grade it knowing it's hers. I could try to be objective, but I know that I hate her, so it might not actually be fair. I would grade all fourth period assignments before seeing whose they are. I would fold the top of the first page where the names were. It might be odd when all papers have a fold in the top, but I really doubted anyone would care. Rule 2; Call her 'Mistress'. That really wasn't a problem. I wished the rules ended there, I'd have been okay with it. Rule 3; Ask permission to speak. This one might be difficult. Obviously, when she addresses me, I have permission to speak. Otherwise she wouldn't have addressed me. But it also meant I couldn't initiate conversation. Rule 4; Do everything she says without question. This was the truly epic one. There were some things I'd not do. I thought. I never thought I'd do the things I already did. Damn her! Rule 5; Remove my hair except on my head. It's not that problematic. I've done it before. Not as often as I'd have to now, but I like how I look hairless anyway. Rule 6; Disobedience means punishment. I planned on avoiding punishment. But the situation was forced on me, what if I get punished a lot because I'm forced to do things I truly dislike, and so refuse? Anyway, the worst thing that happened so far was a punishment, so... I didn't know what to think about it. Rule six was the linchpin to following the rest. I had no choice in the matter anyway, it seemed excessive. It must have been, because she enjoyed it. I hoped she doesn't punish me too much. Pain hurts. I really, really didn't like pain.

    I got to her house a few minutes before noon. Her drive-way was empty. She told me her mother wouldn't actually be home when I got there, and it looked to be true. It depressed me when I heard it, but I half expected it already. I sat in my car a few minutes. I wasn't going inside until I had to. A good song was on anyhow. It ended, and I shut off my car. I focused. I got my inner strength together, in the middle of my mind. I was here not only to please Darla, not only to keep my job, career, and life, but also to keep my initiative if I saw the opportunity to end her power over me. I would take every chance I got to do just that. I left my car and approached the door.

    There was a post-it on the door;

    "Bitch,

    Do not knock or use the doorbell. Come in. Whenever you find a note, take it with you.

     XOXO - Your Mistress"

    She liked notes. I suppose it gave her a sense of power. She could command me to do things without immediately expending her energy. It seemed likely to me, anyhow. I got inside. There were stairs in front of me, and an archway to either side. The right was a kitchen, and the left a living room. There was another post-it on the inside of the door, right on the doorknob;

    "Bitch,

    Strip nude. Leave your clothes, purse, briefcase, and anything else you may have brought, on the welcome mat. Go to the living room (archway immediately on your left) and then enter the door around the corner in the back and close the door. Go down the stairs you see. At the bottom of the stairs, sit on the bottom step, and feel under it for the next note."

    How embarrassing. Nude in a strange house, leaving my things unattended. I did as the note said. My shoes first, then my slacks and nylons. I wasn't wearing any panties, they were all in my briefcase. I took off my jacket and then my shirt. I folded each one and placed them atop my shoes. I took off my bra and dropped it on the pile. I left my briefcase and purse leaning on the pile and went into the living room. It was difficult to leave my purse there, but I'd be damned if I got punished again. The living room was well furnished. Huge television, leather sofa and chair. A fireplace at the back wall. Plenty of electrical devices sat atop the TV; Stereo, DVD player, game consoles, and some I didn't recognize. I walked around the coffee table to the back corner, around which I couldn't see. Though there wasn't a sound, that only added to my tension. It felt as though someone would walk around the corner suddenly. I imagined them trying to get me, "pervert", to leave, swinging a broom at me. I rounded the corner and managed a nervous laugh at the imagined sight. I might have enjoyed it if I were chased away by Darla's mother. Well, not the chase, but being able to leave. My nudity was at the forefront of my mind as I thought about other people being home.

    Silently, I opened the door. Sure enough, I smelled a bit of dust and moister. The door to the basement. I stepped in and it was dark. Some light came in from the small windows you find at the top of the walls of most basements. Or so it appeared. I didn't actually see the windows, yet. I shut the door. The stairwell was really dark, but I didn't want to do anything not on the notes just to discover I've upset something. And a light might draw attention. To... whoever might have been down there? I didn't know, but I also didn't choose to turn on the light. Being naked in someone else's house makes you suspicious someone might be around the next corner. I was already much colder. I stepped on the wooden steps. They creaked with my weight. Every one of them. If someone was going see me down here, they'd be sure to watch for me on my way, now. The coolness of the basement became coldness as I got to the last step and sat. My feet were cold from touching the cold steps. Now my butt was, too. It actually felt good, though. My butt had many long bruises and minor cuts along it, and the cold step felt nice on it.

    I was shivering as I reached under the step. I looked around as I felt underneath. It was a typical basement. Dusty, cemented, and full of junk. It wasn't junk to it's owners, but there were boxes and mechanical parts of all sorts. I noticed the bottom step had been recently cleaned. There was no dust or dirt on it. I was thankful that Darla had forethought and didn't want me to get an infection of some sort, at the very least. I found the note stuck to something under the step;

    "Bitch,

    I don't know if you can see it, but there's a camera on the other side of the basement from you. It has a good angle. Spread your legs and place your feet at the edge of the bottom of the steps. Use the dildo this note is attached to on your cunt. As you do, audibly count to two-hundred. Get wet. When you're done, go back upstairs and bring the dildo. Go to the front door.

     XOXO - Your Mistress"

    Oh, great. I did as the note told me. The pink dildo was as dry as I was. The solution I came up with would not only solve the problem, but might even please Darla. I put the dildo in my mouth. Not long, but it got wet and, I imagined, was sexy. I felt what little was left of my self-respect become a little softer, more pliable. I was numb to it. I didn't move my hips at all as I moved it to the location of my body it's meant for. I pressed the dildo in. It would have hurt my butt to move my hips at all. Counting took a very long time. I thought about what the video camera might feed to. Would I be recorded for later use, or is it feeding to some web-site on the Internet. Well, my worries were irrelevant, so I tried to focus on the numbers. It took longer than I thought it would take. Finally, at two-hundred, I took the dildo out. I didn't enjoy using it, but it did get me to produce some fluids. Stimulating the vagina in any way does that, enjoyable or not.

    I walked up the steps. I had gotten very cold. The stimulation, lacking quality, didn't warm me. I was thankful when I got to the other side of the door. It was warmer. However, I was also closer to actually doing things with Darla. Though, I supposed, it'd also be over faster. I got to the front door. All my stuff was gone. I was now trapped. Or, more accurately, I was deeper in the trap. In it's place was a leather strap with metal things on one end. It was a black, leather collar with the word "bitch" in pink letters on the front. Attached to it was another note;

    "Bitch,

    Put this on. It has your name on it. It's a gift from your Mistress. Once it's on go up the stairs. Enter the last door on the left. Leave the door wide open, and look on the bed.

     XOXO - Your Mistress"

    Muddy mud in my chest. I put it on and it fit well. I noticed a quiet sound coming from up the stairs. It was constant... I took some steps up the stairs and recognized it as running water. A shower? It must have been Darla. I hoped it'd be Darla. If it were someone else, I could have been in trouble. Of course it'd be Darla. I continued up the steps. A fear made each step a little taller. I reached the top of the stairs. The first door on the right is where the noise came from. It was still going. Someone could be heard moving in the rushing water, splashing a little on a different path to the floor of the tub. I kept going to the last door on the left. It was already opened, so I stepped in. I had to resist the impulse to shut the door so it might hide me. I opened it all the way, and it stopped at the wall to the right of it. The bed was against the wall I entered, to the left. The whole room was dark. The brightest colors in the room were merely a small part of larger, darker things. The walls were a dark blue. The bed and it's blankets were black. In the far corner, beyond the bed, was a computer desk. The screen saver was a slide-show of pictures. Me with Chad. My eyes tear up, but I look away and see the note in the center of the bed. It was easily spotted against the dark bedspread;

    "Bitch,

    Throw away the notes in the bin on the other side of the bed. You'll find a hand-cuff attached at each of the posts of the bed. Put your ankles in the ones at the foot of the bed, and your wrists in the ones at the top of the bed. The last one may be tricky with only the one hand free, but you'd better get it, or you'll be punished. Have the dildo in your pussy. Do not allow it to fall out.

     XOXO - Your Mistress"

    She had copies of the images on her computer. I immediately dashed to the computer and moved the mouse. The screen saver ended. I opened the options for the screen-saver to find the folder's location. The folder with the pictures of Chad and me. I wish I had my purse. There's a pen and notebook in it specifically for such notes. Instead, I simply remembered it. I read it to myself a few times. That's when I realized the screen-saver should be on when Darla comes in. It's set to begin after 30 minutes of being idle. I could've turned it on from it's options tab, but then that would be open. My other option was to change the time it takes to turn on, though she might have notice that later. I went with that. I might have been able to change the time back to 30 minutes later, but the screen saver options being open would be noticed immediately. 3 Minutes. I didn't want it to go idle in the middle of her using it, but I also want it on by the time she gets in here. After changing that, I closed the options and left the computer alone. It was a gamble, and I took it. Just like I promised I would. I didn't actually accomplish anything, but I got some useful information for when I did try to accomplish something.

    There was nothing more I could do, so I threw away the notes. I got all the hand-cuffs in reach and then considered the situation. What if she was a psycho? She has already proven she's capable of deceit, and she has hurt me on purpose, because she wanted to. But then, what would happen if I didn't do this? She was going to get what she wanted anyway. I was utterly defenseless, naked in a strange house. If she intended to kill me, the best disobeying her now could do is... well, save my life. I could run. On the bed, I could not. I decide to take the chance. I had taken so many chances already. I placed one cuff on my ankle numbly. I repeated the process with the other. Concern sirened inside my head, but leaving my hands free wouldn't do any good if her intentions were to murder me anyhow. I didn't have the keys to the ones on my ankles, after all. I wasn't brave so much as cowardly. I put my right wrist in it's cuff. I grab the dildo, and put it as far into my vagina as I could. I tried to squeeze it to keep it in place, but that just shot it out. I put it back and remained as relaxed as I could. It stayed, but moving made it squeeze out a bit.

    I couldn't reach the last hand-cuff. I had to stretch myself out uncomfortably to get to it. I had no idea how helpless I'd be until then. I was so stretched out, I was nearly taut like a bowstring. Relaxing to keep the dildo in was difficult, but I got the cuff around my wrist. I couldn't close it, though. I banged it against the bed-post, but it simply left my wrist. I put my wrist back in it, though it took minutes. The screen-saver came back on. Phew. I jerked my wrist and, seemingly by incident, the cuff hook went into the bottom part of the cuff. I swung my hand against the bar to tighten it. With the work of actually getting it on done, it was easy to tighten it. That's when I noticed a presence.

    I looked at the doorway. Nobody was there. Huh. That's when my position sunk in. What if a murderer broke in before Darla got to me? What if after? I couldn't do anything? Well, I couldn't do anything, so I watched the screen-saver. The bead spreed beneath me aggravated my butt. I wished I could have done that upside down. I noticed the shower water had stopped. There was moving coming from behind a door. In the bathroom, I assumed. I hoped. If it was another door, someone else could find me here. Even if they didn't belong in this house. But why worry about that? It was mid-day and Saturday. The door I had heard movement behind opened. My heart raced. Helpless more than I had ever been, I was scared what was to come. My heart's beating gave away my presence.

    All too soon, I saw a shadow on the door, of someone approaching. The silhouette's head looked funny. It's arms were holding it's head. The body casting the shadow approached and then entered the door. Darla. Her long, dark hair was wet and she was naked. She was pale, as usual. Pale and skinny. Not without her charms, but I didn't pay much attention to them at the moment. And not because of the camera she held to her eye. Though it certainly helped. I immediately faced the other direction. My body was hot in embarrassment She was video-taping me. My body. Helpless. I know she could show anyone the pictures she had, but this was different. She was recording me in my lowest. She was recording an ignoble, worthless bitch. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I think I spent them all. All I did was blanch. I suppose. I might also have gotten redder. I sure felt different, whichever it was. I couldn't react. I shut my eyes.

    "Isn't my bitch so beautiful, everyone out there in Internet-land?", Darla began. What she just said struck me like a mallet. Was I breathing? She got closer and pointed her camera at my crotch, "See how she's all prepared for me to have fun? Shaved beautifully, moist, and she already seems to have had some fun with her new friend."

    She played with the dildo for a few seconds, rotating it. I moved at the sensation. I didn't mean to, but it felt weird. She shifted her weight and got off the bed. I heard her go to her computer. My eyes opened automatically. I stared at her. She was connecting her camera to the computer. She turned to me and said, "My computer has much more memory."

    I groaned. She did something on the computer. I couldn't tell what, the screen was too far away. I saw the camera's point of view on the screen, in a window. She picked up the camera, attached to a long cord, and got on her knees next to me on the bed. She said, "We're not going to do anything super-amazing, today. This will be the teaser."

    She pointed the camera at me and began to pan it across me. I was looking away, so I couldn't tell exactly what she was doing. She said embarrassing things about my breasts and vulva, though. At one point, she grabbed the dildo and used it on me. She did it for a while. Apparently, I had gotten myself wetter than I thought I did while I was in the basement. Though, what she was doing helped. Any stimulation at all makes a vagina produce lubricants, after all. Evolutionarily speaking, it wouldn't do to have a vagina that didn't. She stopped moving it, but she pulled it up, pressing against the front of my vagina. I couldn't do anything besides lift my pelvis with the motion. She placed the camera between my legs and pointed it at my butt, "She obeys me because she knows what happens when she doesn't. My little bitch loves me, don't you, bitch?"

    I hesitated. She smacked my butt with her open hand, though there wasn't much room for the motion underneath me. Thanks to the punishment I had received yesterday, it hurt much more than it otherwise would have. I turned to face her, "Yes, Mistress."

    She had been recording for a few minutes. She licked her lips now that I was looking. I think she knew I hated that. She moved herself closer to my head, and then lifted her right leg. She placed it over my head, and then lowered herself. One leg on either side of my head, she faced the foot of the bed. Her butt was in my face, her vulva lowered to my mouth. I was about to begin what I knew she wanted me to do, when she stopped moving. She noticed something. She grabbed my hair and pulled my head up against her, "bitch, did you touch my computer?"

    My heart sank. "Yth, Mthtrth.", I said into her womanhood. She pressed into my mouth a little, as though it felt good. She continued to do so. She gently humped my mouth. I wasn't sure if I was going to get in trouble. I presumed I would, but she didn't say anything to that effect. I began to lick and suck when and where it would feel best. She got into it. Soon, she had released my hair and bucked on my mouth. She was certainly enjoying it. The sludge in my chest grew thicker as I tried to lick with her thrusts. She didn't say anything. She was pointing the camera... at something, in some direction, on the other side of her from my eyes. It didn't feel so bad. I was effectively disconnected from the rest of my body. Though she had it, and though she had my mouth. I could look and think as I desired on this side of her.

    Then, she stiffened and vibrated, shouting, "Suck my cunt, bitch! That's right! Fuck, you're good! ... Oooooooh!"

    I continued what I was doing after her orgasm since she hadn't moved. I could feel one of her hands, the one without the camera presumably, feel around my abdomen. She lightly scratched down and back up each leg, back around my abdomen, and repeated it. She soon reached between my legs. She touched and spread me. She did that for a while, and the dildo eventually plopped out due to it. She stopped playing with me and used that hand to put the dildo back. She twisted it as she pushed it in and out. I heard a beep from the camera, and saw her set it on the side of the bed. She bent down. Soon, I felt her tongue on my clitoris. She licked proficiently. She's done this before. Maybe not under the same circumstances, but she's had experience.

    I brought her to another orgasm. Soon afterwards, my eyes popped open. I was getting angry at myself. What Darla was doing... it felt good. How? How could she bring me to orgasm? It doesn't make sense. She got me very close, but suddenly pulled out the dildo and stopped licking. I could feel my hips move, trying to fulfill my desire, but there was nothing there and I soon found control over myself. She sat back up. Glancing over her shoulder, she looked at me. The angle was odd for me, but she was smiling, "No, you've been bad. You don't get an orgasm."

    She probably thought I really enjoyed the situation! She probably already knew women can't orgasm by force. She was one, after all. But I couldn't say anything that would change her perception, and I didn't have permission to talk anyhow. The point was moot. All I could do was continue what I had been doing in hopes she'd finish with me and let me leave. She began to move. She crouched, then turned 180 degrees, and sat down on my mouth again. She had what I could only describe as a devilish grin. She seemed at an odd angle. Not enough for me to notice at first, unfortunately. Or maybe fortunately. When I stuck my tongue back out to start licking her again, it felt funny. That's when it hit me, her vulva was more on my nose than my mouth. I stopped licking from the shock of what I concluded. She could see it in my eyes, and her grin widened. She reached both hands behind herself and spread her buttocks apart. She lowered down a bit. Her asphincter was resting on my mouth. With glee, she said, "You should have known better than to touch my computer. I know your tongue can get deep, so don't hold back."

    Of course I hesitated still. What she wanted me to do was disgusting. For the first time, not only was what she wanted me to do something I wanted not to do, but was also disgusting. I wouldn't blame someone for hesitating at such an order, but she seemed to grow angry, "Would you prefer something even worse? You know you didn't have permission to touch my computer, but you did it anyway. I just got out of the shower, and I... well, made sure I was clean. So you stick your tongue in my asshole right now or I'm going to think of something even worse!"

    I had to take her word for it. I couldn't think what would be worse than that. I might prefer this over getting whipped, mechanically, but in practice getting whipped doesn't make me gag. I moved my tongue up to her asphincter again. It was kind of rough, but soft and somewhat flexible. The most important quality it had was lack of flavor, though. Well, it seemed as though it tasted like vagina but that could easily have been the vagina that was basically covering my nose, giving me just enough room to breath. I licked a few times, and there was nothing disgusting about it beside the concept, so I pushed my tongue forward. She was relaxed and ready, apparently, because there was very little resistance as my tongue entered her anus. She sighed as it did, and her grin became more of a smile. No terrible flavor, yet. I got brave enough to lick around inside her anus. I can't say how far I got, but I could lick around in a circle and in and out a bit without removing my tongue. My impulses were onto what I was doing, and wouldn't let me get away with it. I gagged. Darla gave me a warning look, and I shoved the gagging away. I relaxed and put my tongue back into the orifice it was just in.

    It was better not to think about it, so I moved my tongue around in circles and looked up at Darla. She was using one hand to play with her breasts. She was biting her own lips softly, and her other hand was going through my hair. That hand slowly moved down my forehead, past my eyes, and right to her clitoris. She began to flick it softly with one finger. As she did, her asphincter tightened. My tongue stayed in, though, and I was forced to think about what I was doing again. Her asphincter contracted a bit every once in a while as she played with her self. She got the camera and turned it back on. She sat forward and put it behind her. I could tell she was recording my tongue going into her anus. I kept myself from gagging. I don't know how, but I managed to keep working. Perhaps, by this point, I felt I didn't even deserve to retch. She interrupted my thoughts, "My bitch loves eating out her Mistress's asshole, doesn't she?"

    What else could I do? I answered, "Yeth Mithreth.", and somehow managed to restrain myself from gagging.

    She shut off the camera and moved her hips back a few inches. She set the camera down and, before she could look back to me, I made her glad she had moved her hips back. My tongue was tired, and I was humiliated, and I hated the entire situation, but this way it'd encourage her to not put her anus over my mouth at all soon. Of course she happily said, "Oh, I forgot how much you love eating cunt!"

    As I licked and sucked on her vulva, she picked up the still wet dildo and put it behind her. I expected to feel it on me, but I was wrong about where to expect it. She accidentally hit my right breast with it as she pulled it closer to her tail end. It nicked my chin. I felt a bulge in the back of her vagina. She was putting it in her own anus! She 'Oh'ed and 'Ah'ed as she did it, too! She began pushing it in and out of herself slowly, as she swore at me, "Eat that cunt, bitch! Eat it now, eat it right! Fuck, you're a good bitch! You're my cunt eating bi..."

    She didn't get that last bit out. We both heard a door open. It was the front door. She seemed shocked. Obviously this was not planned. She immediately jumped off my mouth and to the side of the bed. I could see the dildo most of the way in her as she walked over to the door and looked towards the steps. She turned to me and whispered, "My mom!"

    Just then, almost on queue, a woman's voice form downstairs shouted, "Darla? Where are you? Have you seen the receipt for the dishwasher?"

    Later I would learn that her mom was gone, in part, to get a refund on what ended up being a faulty washer. However, right then I was more concerned with my position on Darla's bed. I looked back to her and whispered, "Where are my clothes?!"

    She had already gathered some jeans and a black halter top and tossed them on the bed. Her reply to me, including a dirty look, was, "Who said you could talk, bitch? Open your mouth and keep this there," She sighed as she took the dildo from her anus and shoved it into my mouth. My first reaction was to spit it out, but I managed to catch it in my teeth on it's way out. I already forgot to wait for permission to speak, and was bound to get into trouble for that. Oh, crap, and I forgot to call her 'Mistress'. She was sure to punish me, if she wasn't too distracted to notice. She tossed her clothes on and left the room, leaving the door ajar. Just before leaving, she whispered, "You're checking my work. Hope she doesn't come up here, bitch."

    She left me there. I heard her go down the stares. Darla said something, but I couldn't make out what. I could hear Darla talking to someone downstairs, and that someone talking in return. It was very difficult to make out what the discussion was about, but I think I heard a question about a briefcase. Of course, if someone was asking Darla about a briefcase, the only one I could imagine it was would be mine. It sounded like a woman, so I presumed Darla's mother was asking her about my briefcase. How could Darla have been so careless?! What if her mother knew someone was there? What if she came up here to see?

    I heard the questioner halt the conversation and noisily ascend the stares. I knew I should have tried to get free, but I was scared stiff. Whether I moved or not, I was going to be caught. What would happen when her mother caught her English teacher naked, hand-cuffed to her bed? I may not have been able to move, but I imagined that anyone outside the door could have heard my heart beat. The foot-steps came towards the room. I shut my eyes. There was nothing else to do. A door opened. I had to look. The light was different out in the hallway. A new source of light was shining across the hallway. The door across the hall was open. The foot-steps went into that door! I was so relieved I exhaled the dildo out of my mouth. But there was still the chance whoever it was would still walk over to the room I was in. I lied and listened. Shuffling in that room. Darla and her mother's voices could be heard. I knew Darla would think of something horrible to do to me for the dildo falling out of my mouth, but I had bigger worries right then. A punishment would be worth not being found that way.

    But what was I thinking? If Darla's mother found out what her daughter was up to, she'd surely be in trouble. But then it would be certain that the pictures would be discovered! I couldn't exactly ask for help in this when doing so would just as likely end with me in prison and down the career I love so much.

    "A hah! Here it is!", I heard who I presumed was Darla's mother proclaim. I heard walking and saw shadows across the outside of Darla's door. Footsteps down the stares. Muffled conversation. I listened for another few minutes, and soon the front door opened and closed. Footsteps up the stares. Someone was coming to this room. The door was opening. The thought flashed through my mind that it might be someone besides Darla, and that would spell disaster for me. But I knew it was Darla with the pieces of my mind that remained rational. Those same pieces wished she'd end this silly game.

    The door was opened. It took a long time to get there, but perhaps it was all in my head. Darla walked in. I let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't conscious, but Darla still saw it. She smiled, "Your mother walking in on you certainly ruins the mood, huh?"

    My heart leaped. Ruin the mood? Did that mean she was done?! Even if only for that day, I would have been thankful to get out of the hand-cuffs and put some clothes on. Darla came over to me. She had some keys in her hands, though I didn't see where she got them from. She un-cuffed my right hand, first. I would have smiled if I were able to. My other hand was free, then my right foot, and left. I sat up and began to rub my wrists and ankles. Darla walked over to her computer chair and made a motion for me to come, adding to it by calling me like a dog, "Come, bitch, sit next to me."

    As she sat at her chair and ended the screen saver, I slid to the edge of the bed. I sat for a moment, wondering where and how she meant for me to sit. She had only the one chair. And why didn't she give me my clothes? I stood and walked next to her. I watched the computer screen, since I didn't want to look at her. She opened up a text file. It was her paper for my class. I saw a glass of water on her desk and wondered if she would let me have a drink to get the taste out of my mouth, when she looked at me with a curious glare, "On your knees, bitch."

    "Oh.", I said, as I put my weight on the desk and lowered myself to my knees. I put my hands in my lap. My legs closed and my arms covering some of my breasts, it almost felt good to cover up, if only that little bit. I still wanted to ask her for a drink. The taste had become very bitter in my mouth. I had a problem, though; I didn't want to speak to her. That would draw attention to me, and I didn't want her attention. Besides, I wasn't certain I could ask a question. I need permission to speak. Can I ask for it? But asking would require that I speak.

    I watched her type for a while. I was sad that my plan for grading might fail if I watch her, but in fact she was a good writer. I taught at a high school. Finding someone who knows how to write in a high school was nearly impossible. Though I had praise for her typing, it wasn't long before I read everything she had typed up to where she was currently typing. There's no point watching every word, so I looked around the room. A few band posters, a few dozen small dolls, clothes here or there. It wasn't anything I didn't expect. Indeed, it was less than I expected, which was more than I hoped. No torture devices. No rack, nothing. I also couldn't see my briefcase or purse, but there was the fact of the closet being shut. I also couldn't see under her bed, and she had a few drawers large enough to fit my things. I was pretty sure my stuff was in there, somewhere. I didn't know why Darla would risk someone coming home and finding my clothes in some other room, so I didn't assume she'd take such a chance.

    I read the last paragraph Darla typed, and began to look around her room for where she might keep extra copies of my pictures. There were no obvious clues, though I figured I'd try to rifle through her drawers and closet if I got the chance. I noticed a flash drive on her key chain when I looked back to the desk. Perhaps she kept copies on there. That was something else I'd have to check if I got the chance. Darla looked at me as I thought that. I thought perhaps she knew what I was thinking, somehow.

    "That's boring. Put your hands behind your back and spread your legs.", She told me, nonchalantly. I did what she said, leaning back on my arms. She continued typing, but looked at me more often than before. I avoided looking at her. I felt hotter than usual. When would she let me get more comfortable? She stopped typing and her left hand came down atop my right breast. She typed one-handed as she fondled me. She switched breast once. She typed for another ten minutes and three paragraphs switching back and forth. The last paragraph took her a long time to finish. When she did, she put her right hand between her legs and rubbed herself over her pant's crotch.

    "Bitch,", She started. I looked up at her. I knew I looked scared and anxious. She stood up and pushed her chair back, "get under my desk."

    She began unbuttoning her pants as I slowly, sadly, crawled under her desk. I turned around once in there, and saw her pants fall to the floor. It was cramped under her desk, but I fit. She sat down and rolled her chair back in. With her legs down there, it was more cramped. Her legs soon spread and I found space between them. Of course that was her plan. And I wasn't even putting up a fight. Of course I wouldn't. I had no pride. I leaned down between her legs and started what I knew she wanted me to do. No, I had no pride I allowed myself to show. As I began, I had a surge of energy. I'm not sure exactly what it was, but it seemed very emotional. I was angry. It was a kind of anger I had never experienced before. I almost shoved my way out from under the desk. I restrained myself. So my pride might have still been intact, but this was no time for a rebellion.

    There's not much to tell about what happened. I was the bitch that she called me, though I was content in knowing there was a part of me still struggling against her. I was under her desk for over an hour. She came at least nine times. I had a heavy feeling from my throat to my belly the whole time. It must have been my rational mind duking it out with my anger, and perhaps the pain of the humiliation. But, it could have also been something as simple as an upset stomach.

    When Darla let me out from under her desk, she seemed very tired. Hell, I was tired, too. She took me by the arm and cuddled with me in her bed. She was soon asleep. I envied her, but I wasn't comfortable enough to actually ge to sleep. Perhaps I could have killed her. Woah! Yeah, I really thought that. She might be a horrible person, but I couldn't bring myself to kill her! And even if I could justify it to my conscience, I'd probably get caught and go to jail for much longer than if those pictures were found! I dismissed the idea immediately, but the fact I thought it made me feel uneasy. I had to get out of the bed.

    Slowly. Slowly I edged away from Darla. Out of her arms. I got about an inch before she sighed and tightened her grasp on me. I waited five minutes. Or, at least, it seemed that long. I tried again, but first I had to move her left arm, the one over me. I got it over me and rested it on Darla's side, then slowly rolled away. I almost fell when I got to the edge of the bed, but I had gotten free! Besides, what would she do if she did find me out of bed? She never told me to stay there! I watched her slumber before continuing my plan. I had to make sure she was sleeping heavily before rummaging through her things.

    It ends up she's a fairly deep sleeper. I went through her shelves, drawers, and closet. It was fruitless, though. Not only did I not find any clues that would allow me to determine her source for the pictures, but I didn't find my stuff, either. I got braver. I left her room. The door was still ajar, so I opened it wide enough to fit through, slowly and evenly. She was in the bathroom when I got here, so I went there first. It was a bathroom, and a clean one at that, so there weren't many places to hide things. I looked under the sink first. There were my briefcase, purse, and clothes. I was satisfied in that, so I moved on. No reason to take my things and get in trouble needlessly, after all.

    I walked slowly down to the living room. There was a shelf I saw behind the couch earlier, but payed no attention to it then. I looked at it this time. There were family pictures. Three of them had Darla in them. In two, she was with her mother. Or, at least, who I presumed was her mother. The image fit the voice I heard earlier. Another one was just her. Her mother and father's wedding picture was at the top of the shelf. I started to look at pictures of the other family members when I did a double take. Darla's mother and father were married very recently. Darla looked not much younger than she is now in the pictures with her mother, and her mother didn't appear different at all between those pictures and the one of her wedding. Well, besides her makeup and hair, of course. I scrutinized the pictures for a few minutes. There was no way the difference in age between the wedding photo and the mother-daughter photo was more than a year, and that's overestimating.

    Darla must have moved here, to this school district, when her mother married... her step-father. Or, at least, that was my hypothesis. Her father was handsome. Step-father, rather. He also had a handsome young son. Gregory. Gregory Scott. He was a senior last year, and he was in one of my classes. The name of Darla's parents in her school file never meant anything to me until now. Why hadn't I realized? How had days gone by without me seeing the connection! I was gaining nerve every moment. I nearly jogged up the first few steps, but realized the noise might awaken Darla. There were four rooms upstairs. Her mother's was across the hall from Darla's. I could presume that was also her step-father's room, now. The one to the right as you get to the top is the bathroom, and Darla's is the second left.

    The first left door. That's where I stopped. It was shut. I listened at it. I hadn't realized until then that I had been assuming only Darla and I were in the house. There was music coming from within. It was quiet, but not soft. Greg apparently likes rock and roll. But was he in there, or did he simply leave music on? I listened a little longer... Just music. Well, my window of opportunity was probably not very big, so I softly turned the handle. It was locked. It took me by surprise. That could only mean someone was in the room! But nobody said anything. I've accidentally locked myself out of indoor doors before, if rarely, maybe the same thing happened here. I turned the handle hard. Harder than I meant to. The loud click was all I heard. My breathing stopped, as did my heart. Time itself slowed down.

    "Hello?"... It was lazy, but certainly a boy from inside the room said it. My heart sank. A strange hollow feeling ran through me. My legs were stuck in place. It seemed I was watching a bad sitcom. It wasn't me in front of the door, entirely nude and exposed, aside a collar designating me as a bitch, but some other lady, "Hello?"

    It was stronger the second time. I heard movement, as though someone got up from bed. I had no idea how far the bed would be to the door. The world spun. I hesitated a moment. I couldn't say why, I simply couldn't get going. A footstep. I felt light headed. Another, somehow more distant, footstep. No! I couldn't faint like that! I finally got my right leg to move, and everything started working again right away. I ran, no, jumped into Darla's room. I didn't bother shutting the door. I could rely on Darla for this... I supposed, for some reason. Inside her room, I heard the bedroom door I was just at open up. I dove onto the far side of Darla's bed, over her. I used the bed to soften my landing, then rolled to and over the opposite side, so that nobody could see me from the door to the room. That's when I realized Darla's closet was closer to her bedroom door, and would be much easier to hide in. Oh well, that was where I hid. No sense in moving once there.

    "What are you doing?", A confused Darla's head asked, hanging from the side of the bed, looking down at me. She smiled as she saw the position I was in, hugging the side of the bed to reduce the chance someone could see me over it.

    "Greg!", I whispered warningly.

    "What? What about him?", She said. She seemed sincerely confused. Right then, I heard the door to Darla's room hit the wall. It wasn't hard, just enough to, it seemed, be heard. To draw attention. Darla lazily looked towards the door. She jumped up to where I couldn't see her, "What the hell are you doing! Don't you ever fucking knock?!", I heard something soft hit the wall near the door as Darla quickly shifted and pulled at her covers.

    "Sorry!", I heard Greg say. It was the same voice of my ex student, alright. There was a pause, then, "Yeah, sorry about barging into your room, but the door was open, and... well... what were you doing at my door?"

    "What?", Darla still seemed confused.

    "Well, you were at my door, then I heard you run into your room. I figured I'd come see what was up.", He explained.

    "What?!", Darla started, but it must have sunk in what happened as she continued, "Oh. Well, I was sleeping, and then went to the bathroom. I was so sleepy, I confused your door for mine. I would apologize, but I think you've gotten good enough payment for my mistake."

    "Oh... yeah, sorry. Well, I was sleeping myself, so maybe that's why I was so confused by it. So, anyway, if you need anything, you know where I am.", I heard Greg say as he left the room. I heard him walk all the way back to his room, not far, then the door shut.

    I saw Darla's head come back over the side of the bed. Her face was blank. She let out a sigh, "Haven't I told you I don't like punishing you? You know I have to now, right?"

    I nodded awkwardly, "Yes, Mistress, but...", I stopped myself.

    "Yes? you have permission to speak.", she said.

    "Well... I presumed we were the only ones here. Otherwise, you know, why would you risk getting caught?", I asked as I sat back up on the bed. She leaned against a pillow, the blanket only half on her.

    "Frankly, bitch, I watch a lot of porn. If Greg heard anything, he would have assumed it was porn. In the worst case scenario he might have walked in on us, but he'd just think it was cool and ask if he could watch. Besides, he's very sick and I knew he'd take his medicine before you got here. He has a bad flu, as well as an ear and nose infection, and his drugs make him drowsy. He told me his plan was to sleep all day, today."

    "But still, Mistress, it is an unnecessary risk!"

    She chuckled at me, "You're cute. Remember I could have you go fuck him right now, but I'm not that sadistic."

    Of course she wouldn't realize my worry was that he would recognize me as his former teacher and he'd know I was doing something illegal, but I didn't want to press anything right then. I had already had a big enough rush and I was sorting through a lot of thoughts. Darla, though, actually seemed fairly pleasant at the time.

    "Listen, bitch, my mom should be home soon, so I'll go get your clothes and tell you what I expect of you for the rest of the weekend and next week.", She said, calmly. Apparently, she wasn't going to punish me right away. It both relieved me and made me anxious. What if she makes me do something embarrassing at school? Oh well, I would think about it at my own home, on my own time. Darla put on some pajamas and left the room. She came back with my things. Well, most of my things. My briefcase and purse. My clothes were gone. Actually, when she set down my briefcase, there were clothes atop it that she was holding in the same hand. If you call it clothes.

    "You're going to wear these home today, and when you go shopping tomorrow. Also, you're going to leave the collar on for both cases. I've taken all your underwear. Tomorrow, you're going to go to the store and buy new underwear. Not just any underwear, though. Thongs. Pretty ones, too. You're going to wear exclusively thongs as underwear from now on.", She explained as she sat on her bed and watched me draw back from the "outfit" that was on my briefcase. The most conservative piece of cloth in the very small pile was a tube-top. It was about six inches from top to bottom. It was black. Under it was a black skirt. The skirt was about as long as the tube-top, the same color, and pleated. On the top of the pile was a bright, neon blue thong that said "Slippery when wet" on the front, in bold, black letters.

    I stood for a long moment. My head was light again, but I wasn't near fainting. I looked up at Darla, "M... Mistress?"

    "Don't worry, you're going to shop at a mall called 'Northland Center'. It's a one hour drive north of here, incidentally. You're going to be at the front door at exactly noon, stand for five minutes, smoking, or on the phone, or whatever, then go in. If anyone's there who knows you, it'll be few.", She picked up the clothes and pushed them into my arms. I couldn't say anything. I set them down on the bed and put on the thong. I was grateful to have something on, at least, and I could then leave! The thong was alright. It fit fine, but it was bright and drew attention. I avoided thinking about what that would mean for me the next day, as I put on the skirt. As short as it looked. I couldn't see, but I was sure at least the bottom inch of my crotch, the bright thong, was visible. There was a possibility, though small, that it covered half of my butt. The tube top fit around my arms. I pulled it down. I had to stretch it to get it over my breasts. It was slightly more difficult to breath. I had the choice of showing off significant cleavage, or allowing my breasts to fall out the bottom of the top.

    I walked along the room to see how the tube-top would fit in practice. The top slowly rolled down, so I had to readjust it every dozen steps or so. The skirt stayed in place, but it may as well have been a belt. As embarrassing as this would normally be, I knew people would see the marks from yesterday's caning. As much as I wanted to go hide under my own blanket's covers for eternity instead of wear so little, I certainly didn't want anyone to see those stripes' on my rear. I didn't want to speak, or to talk, so I simply turned and pointed at mu butt.

    "Hahaha... oh, bitch, you're silly. Who cares if someone sees those? Just tell them, if they ask, that you're into BDSM.", replied a giggling Darla.

    "But I'm not.", I accidentally said. Darla was silent, but I could feel her sudden anger. I stood motionless, in fear of Darla's reaction. I could sense her approaching slowly. She was coming up on my left. I was shivering in anxiety. She made a quick motion, but I couldn't move. *SMACK*, I heard the noise, and the pain from my butt immediately followed. Automatically, I covered my butt and turned to Darla. She had a severe look on her face.

    "bitch, you do everything I say. No exceptions. What...", She said evenly. She slowly reached up to my "shirt". I cowered, but dared not step away. She pulled it down, exposing my breasts again. She looked me in the eyes for a moment. I couldn't stair her down, so I looked away within seconds. A moment passed. Another. Suddenly, her hands shot up and grabbed my nipples. She pinched hard and pulled me towards her, until my face was just below hers. I couldn't help looking at her again. I tried to plead with my eyes. My mouth was too busy trying not to scream. She finished what she began saying, "What are you?"

    The scream regressed back down my throat, and I could answer. My hands scratched at my thighs lightly, to avoid trying to tear her hands away. I replied earnestly, "I'm your bitch, Mistress! I do everything you say, no exceptions! I live to serve you! ... Please let go, Mistress! I beg you!"

    She didn't say a word. She pulled me towards her. My face was inches from hers. She twisted and pulled my nipples out, then back in and untwisted, just to do it again. As she did so, she kissed me. I tried to kiss her back. I think it was mostly successful, but the pain she was inflicting in my nipples was a bigger distraction than I'd have imagined. My eyes teared, and I said "Ow!" and "Oh!" into the kisses frequently. It went on for what my rational mind would call a minute, but even it could have been wrong.

    More suddenly than I really expected, she stopped torturing my nipples. Mid-kiss, she grabbed my arms and pulled me down. I followed her motion. Soon, I was on my knees, and her hands moved from my arms to my head. She shoved me down roughly, and I was on my arms and knees, looking at her pajama pant-legs. She explained what she wanted, "bitch, you will kiss my feet, each five times. in between each kiss, you will beg my forgiveness. You will remind yourself of your place, and also show me that, while you're not actually worthy to be treated as well as I treat you, you're thankful that I do."

    Immediately, I kissed her right foot. There was nothing horrible about that fact alone. Her foot was clean and not abnormal in any way. But I was being forced to humiliate myself as I did it. Before kissing her other foot, I said, "I wish I were worthy of you, Mistress.", and then I did kiss her foot.

    "Point your ass up. Act like you mean what you say, whore!", She yelled, "and look up at me as you speak!"

    I was scared her brother would hear, so I did as she said. I pointed my butt up, and even wiggled it around as though I was turned on. I wanted to get out of there, I had to do what she said for that to happen. Among other reasons I had to do what she said, of course. With what passion I could muster, I degraded myself further, "I would show you how dedicated I am by eating your cunt 24 hours every day.", and I kissed her foot.

    "I'm turned on by your taking control of me, Mistress. *kiss* I'm an unworthy little bitch, Mistress. *kiss* I'm thankful for every order you give me, Mistress. *kiss* Please use me however you wish, Mistress. *kiss* I love it when you show me how worthless I am. *kiss*", I was having trouble thinking of things to say, so I simply spoke of my worthlessness, "I'm a pool of filth to your divine beauty, Mistress. *kiss* I wish I were worth the abuse I need from you. *kiss* Please allow me to serve you, forgive me if you have any pity for this worthless whore! *kiss*"

    As I looked up at her, she patted my head like one would a sad animal, "To prove your devotion, you will crawl out to your car, and leave your top down for the entire drive to your place."

    Avoiding further punishment and degradation, and because I felt almost as though I were going to throw up, I nodded and began to crawl to her bed to retrieve my purse and briefcase. I got them, but couldn't decide what to do with them as I crawled. She walked over to me and placed them on my back. She stretched my tube-top over them, to secure them to my back. I crawled to her door. I peered out it, down the hallway. I hoped her brother wouldn't choose then to go to the bathroom or leave his room for any other reason. I inched out. I realized what this would look like to anyone. Even if someone saw, I'd have to continue. I hurried into the hallway, and down it.

    When I got to the stares, I saw a problem. I might be able to go down backwards, but then my briefcase and purse might fall. But, they might fall going down forward, anyhow. I turned around and moved one leg, just in time to see Darla frowning at me. She lifted her hand and made a twirling motion with her finger. I turned back around. The stares were steep. I looked back to Darla, pleading. She wasted no time. She rushed to me and slapped my rump. It was a resounding noise, followed by her barking out, "Go down the stairs now, bitch!"

    I don't know how her brother wouldn't hear that, so I did try to hurry. I thought I knew how to maneuver such that I could make my way down the stairs, and I got my hands down a few steps. However, with gravity at an odd angle, and my shins being longer than anything designed to bare weight on the steps, I had trouble getting my hind quarter to follow. I looked up at the door. What if her mother came home just then? Yes, I had to hurry. I didn't hear anything from her brothers room, but that only added to my worry. What if he walked quietly? I didn't look back. I pulled my right leg down, putting my weight on the top of my foot, bent back. It hurt a bit, but it got me going the way I wanted. I got my other foot to follow the same way with another step down. Another step, then another. Those four steps took far too long.

    Still not looking back, I tried to move faster. Mistake. My arm slipped and I slid a few steps. I caught myself, luckily, with my feet, on the edge of a step. I put my hands back down on this further down step, and pulled my feet down as I had been. It seemed like a count-down was going on but I wasn't being told the seconds remaining. Someone was going to see me. I heard footsteps behind me. It could have been Darla, but it also could have been her brother. I drew in my breath and continued as quickly as I could. So, I continued slowly. Ten more steps, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two one. I was at the front door. Someone was right behind me. I fearfully looked. Darla. I never expected to be relieved to see her. She bent down a bit and smacked my butt hard. I squealed, trying to contain my scream. When I looked up, she was opening the door. When the door was open, she smacked my butt again, and started up the stares.

    I cried as I looked at the neighborhood houses. I expected a mail boy to run up any moment, SUVs to drive by every minute or so. Which meant I had to hurry up and get out of there. The small stoop was difficult to get down as the stares inside, though it was only a few. It was concrete, and hurt my feet. A car drove by as I got to the bottom, I didn't look up to see it in time, but it passed through my periphery and I certainly heard it. Hopefully they didn't see me, or at least realize how exposed I was. I hurried to my car, the sidewalk skinning my knees. getting my purse form behind me was difficult. I had to get up a bit, sitting on my knees. I could see a face in an upstairs window across the road. It was staring at me. Though it was somewhat windy, i got very hot. I managed to get my purse loose. It and my briefcase fell behind me. I got out my keys, opened my car door, grabbed both things, and jumped in.

    Without bothering to look around, I started my car, and checked my rear view to see if any cars were coming. I backed out just in time to notice that one house down and across the road, a man stood with his car's hood open, staring my way. I drove past him much faster than the speed limit. The drive home consisted of me avoiding letting cars pass, and avoiding passing. A few got around me, but the only indication I got that someone saw was a few honks. When I got home, I pulled up my top, ran to my bed, stripped off the "clothes" I had on, and dove into my bed. I tried to cry, but I didn't seem able to for some reason.

In the shower that next morning, I spent all my time thinking of how to get out of what I had to do. The "clothes" were still on my bedroom floor. How would Darla even know if I went to that mall, anyhow? But I couldn't avoid it, because she might show up, herself. But what if she didn't? Would I drive for an hour in basically nothing, go into a shopping mall... That was it... I had to go there, stand outside for five minutes, and go in. She didn't tell me how long to shop for. I could run to the first store I could find, buy some underwear, and leave immediately! When I got my bright idea, I started to shave my pubic hair. Just in case Darla did show up, I didn't want to get into trouble for having any hair, even if a very small amount of stubble. Besides, if I shaved every day, I'd get used to it, and I do still think I look good shaved.

    Nobody I knew would be there, so nobody would see me in such a... well, a whorish outfit. I could easily avoid looking at people, too. I can do it, get it over with, and finish my business. No problems. I tried to tell myself that, anyhow. My stomach was tightening up. I would be hiding nothing. Nothing at all! The skirt would cover, at most, the top half of my butt, and the bottom of the front of the thong would be seen easily! What if there were children?! I'd have to adjust the top every couple dozen steps I took or my breasts would fall out, too. Not like they'd be functionally covered, anyhow! The thin black material of the six or so inch tall tube top wasn't going to leave anything to the imagination. Good thing I was done shaving by the time I had that thought, because I got distracted enjoying my breakfast a second time. The second time wasn't nearly so enjoyable, though, making that thought not at all true. After I managed to get it all down the drain, I washed myself again, made sure all the ideally smooth places were hairless, and went to get into my "clothes" for the day.

    I checked in the mirror in my bedroom after putting it on. Just as I expected. I had to hold my shoulders just so, to prevent the top from rolling down or up. I was showing cleavage, so down would be my concern. Even from my point of view above the rim of the skirt, I could see the bright blue thong on my crotch. The worst part was that it was a tight thong, too. I had a camel toe. I did my best to smooth out the fabric, but every step or so it just went right back. Oh well, even if it's shape was known, it was technically covered. Though people would certainly try reading what it says, "Slippery when wet". Turning around and sighing, I could make out red and dark lines across my butt. Most of them were hidden by the skirt, but the few on the lower part of my butt were obvious. I looked closer. They were mostly bruise, and in fact looked much better today. They were still obvious against the normal color of my skin, though. I decided to cover them up. I got out my make-up and matched my normal skin tone. At least now I wouldn't worry about people asking about why my butt was bruised. As an extra bonus, the make-up helped me feel just a little more covered than I was. Even if it was an illusion, it was one I welcomed. I put the make-up I used in my purse. I got a big purse, so that I could at least hide some of me behind it and feel a little more secure. On an impulse, I got out some jeans and a nice, normal blouse, placing them in my purse. Of course I'd be unable to change, but having them made me feel more comfortable, somehow.

    In front of the door, I tried to adjust the skirt, get it lower. The waist was tight, but I managed to slide it down about half an inch. I considered unbuttoning the one button on the waist, but then it might fall too far, and it'd look funny besides. I didn't really expect it to cover me any worthwhile amount anyhow, but I was putting as much effort as I could into at least feeling like I was covered. And failing miserably. I thought I could handle it, until getting to the door. It was a Saturday morning. People were bound to be outside. How would Darla know if I wore a large jacket out to my car? She didn't say not to, did she? I banked on that. I got a nice, long jacket from the closet behind me. It went lower than the skirt, barely managing to cover my butt, and covered everything north of that point. It bolstered my courage enough to open the door, shut it behind me, lock it, and get to my car. As I walked to my car I could feel that the bottom of my ass was still being shown off, but only the very bottom. It was still better than what there would have been without the jacket. In my car I pulled out a make-up mirror and checked my ass, after pulling forward. Seeing a bit of blue, I almost fixed the make-up, but figured it'd be better to wait until the mall. I had an hour's drive and my butt was on a car seat.

    The drive was uneventful. Nobody honked or acted oddly in any other way, since I looked like just some lady driving. That was my new favorite jacket. On the drive, I realized the make-up might just have been a bad idea, still. What if it rubbed off on the skirt? Well, I decided, I would just have to check that and take care of it when I got there, and perhaps in the bathroom there to be doubly sure. I was worried about the day, about people thinking I'm a harlot, the kind of men I'd not date anyhow hitting on me, etc. The parking lot lowered my morale. The drive was boring enough, and I barely noticed anyhow, with my worry. The parking lot was packed. I drove around once, but it was already 11:56. I got the first spot I could find that was at all close, and hurriedly reapplied as much make-up as I could onto my butt-bruises. My skirt didn't seem to have much make-up on it, and only the inside had any at that, so I was safe to at least get to the front door and then bathroom. My car's seat, on the other hand, had some make-up smeared all over. I ignored it as I took off my jacket. I opened the door as I took my jacket off my right arm. I figured it'd get me to leave my car, it being open, anyhow. I had two minutes, as it was, and I had no idea how Darla was going to see if I was doing what she said.

    I was right. The door was open, so I got right out. I noticed two men in my periphery, as I shut and locked my car door. I tried not to look at them as I started walking to the front of the mall, but I couldn't avoid it. I was too worried about what they might be thinking about me. When I looked, the larger of the two men, both large and muscular looking already, said something to the effect of my having a nice ass. There was a slight wind and I had a hard time hearing over my heart beats, though. I looked away and hurried towards the front of the mall. There were at least six people smoking, there. I didn't look directly at any of them. I was already shaking, but about then, only about a dozen paces from my car, I realized I was cold. Except my butt. I could feel the heat of the two men behind me staring at it. They were looking directly at my butt-cheeks, in broad day light. They probably didn't notice the makeup that seemed to cover so much, before.

    Finally, I made it to the front entrance of the mall. My first impulse was to wait on one of the benches, but then I realized they were both on the walkway towards the doors, facing one another. I wouldn't want to be forced to face the people on the opposite bench, so I walked to the angled wall just before them, where there was a corner blocking most of the view from the doorway and benches. As I got to the wall, I wanted to simply stand facing it. However, I realized that would draw even more attention, as it's simply odd. So, I got to the wall, turned around, adjusted the top, and leaned back against it.

    The two men I had seen in the corner of my eye earlier were approaching me! Slowly, but surely. Fortunately, that was also the moment I heard my phone. It was tucked away in my purse and under the clothes, so it might have been going off for a while before I noticed it, but I thanked God that it was going off. I held my big purse in front of my hips as I searched for my phone. I managed to grab it and answer it before the two men got to me, so I turned to the side slightly, so the phone would be between me and them, and asked, "Hello?"

    "Hello, bitch.', Darla replied, "I have something else for you to do, today."

    "Okay, what is it?", I asked, trying to keep the conversation short. Apparently, I wanted to deal with the men more than Darla.

    "Excuse me?!", Darla said, shocked.

    "What is it, Mistress?", I corrected myself.

    "Louder, bitch.", She must have wanted people to hear.

    "What would you like me to do, Mistress?", I said even louder than I meant to. I felt motion to my left, the direction to the walkway and the men who were approaching. I glanced and the two men seemed to be waiting about five feet away. I tried to shrink into the wall I was against, and I turned my head farther away from that direction.

    "You will give your phone number to at least three different guys, today, bitch. You will instruct each of them to call you, in order, at five, six, and seven o'clock, tonight. Do this before getting your underwear, and explain to them that you're underwear shopping, and will buy something to wear especially for them if they kiss you. Repeat those orders back to me so I know you have them right, bitch.", She instructed almost monotonously, as though reading them.

    I hesitated before repeating it, making sure I wasn't going to faint, "Mistress, I will give three men my number, telling them to call me at five, six, and seven o'clock, tonight. I will tell them I'll buy something to wear for them in exchange for a kiss."

    "Good bitch. Now, go to a store called 'Tigress Apparel', and do your shopping, after those new instructions. Bye bye.", Before I could answer her, she hung up. I don't know how red my face was by then, but I figured I'd take what I had as quickly as I could.

    I turned to the men as I put my phone in my purse. They were fairly attractive, and they both obviously worked out. The dark haired one was in a blue jogging suit, and the blond was in a red T-shirt and jeans. Immediately upon looking at them I felt naked. I could feel the air on most of my body, the only parts somewhat protected were nigh irrelevant compared to what was showing. The blond stood to the side and didn't try to hide where his eyes were going, but the dark haired one snapped his eyes up to meet mine. I don't remember how the conversation started out. I started shaking. I wondered if they noticed. I remember coming close to passing out my head felt so light, but I managed to get out my pen and note pad to write down my number. The dark haired one was named Jake, and the blond was Tony. I gave them each my number, and both accepted the kiss.

    I remember that part of the conversation for a good reason. Of course I was nervous and shaking, but Jake leaned right down, put his arms around me, and pulled me in for a kiss. It was big, wet, and sloppy. Jake moved away slowly, winking. Then, Tony came in for a kiss. He came in slower, lower. He seemed to be gaging me. His arms went around me, and he put his lips against mine. He kissed slowly. He was not overly aggressive in kissing. However, his hand moved down from it's place on my back, past and under my skirt. He grabbed a hand full of butt-cheek. I must have stopped kissing, because he got slightly more aggressive. I kissed back a bit, and his hand grasped my butt tenderly. In retrospect, I had some things to say, but the shock of the moment prevented those thoughts at the time.

    "Let us escort you in, madam. ", He said as he pulled away, "Jake is actually running late for work, and I'm his ride. I planned on getting something to eat before leaving, though. Would you join me?"

    "Uh... yeah, sure.", I said. I was dumb-struck. I had no idea how to react except to agree.

    "Alright, well, I want to pick up my check, since Tony and I work at the same place, so I'll meet you at the food court in about fifteen minutes?"

    "Yeah, okay.", I said.

    As we started walking towards the door, Tony lifted his hand to look at it. He paused in his stride, but picked back up and turned his hand to me, "What's this?"

    There was a light powdery stuff lightly coating his palm and insides of his fingers. I had a brilliant idea, "Oh no! It's a story, guys, but it's make-up. I'm going to run to the bathroom to reapply it, and I'll tell you all about it at the food court, okay?"

    I started to run off. and the guys replied that was okay, though they looked a bit baffled. Good. I made my way to the bathroom, which wasn't far from the door, and I locked myself in a booth. Who knew guys would be so forward?! They were all over me, like... the slut I looked like. No more fooling myself, I brought those clothes in my purse to change into. I took off the skirt and tube top, which was overly simple, and got the clothes out of my purse. I lacked a bra, but what I had on was still far better than what was before it. I put the old clothes in my purse and I waited until I was pretty sure the two guys would be out of site. About two minutes, I think. While I waited, I calmed myself down. My heart was beating faster than I thought it could, and I felt very faint. I didn't want to risk collapsing in the mall and having Tony find me that way. I was already angry and anxious enough. I composed myself and left the bathroom.

    Fortunately, Tigress Apparel wasn't far from the doors. It was a women's shop that seemed to focus on lingerie, though it also had formal wear and accessories. I tried not to spend much time looking through everything, to avoid Tony on my way out. That's when I realized I had to give another guy my phone number. I looked around, but there weren't any men in the store. I walked to the entrance and saw plentiful men pass by, so I got out my pen and notepad and jotted down my number. I took the piece of paper and put the rest back in my purse. Then I realized Darla would never know, so I put the paper in my pocket and went back to shopping. Already disobeyed one order, why not that another? It felt liberating enough. Maybe I could face Darla the next day with a straight face. Quickly, I bought six new pairs of underwear, all thongs. A slightly overweight teenager rang me up and I was off. I dashed for my car and began the drive home.

    About ten minutes from home, my phone rang. It was Darla. Half of my mind screamed to not answer, but I did anyhow, "Hello?"

    "Hi, bitch." replied Darla, seeming almost pleasant for some reason.

    "How are you, Mistress?", I asked, not knowing what else to say.

    "Oh, I'm fine. I just called to tell you to wear your new underwear to school. You know, since it's the only kind you have. However, no nylons or stockings unless I say otherwise. You must wear a skirt every day. Also, bring the harness and both the dildo and butt-plug to school with you, bitch.", she hung up before I could reply. I was anxious the rest of the drive home, but made it safely. When I got in I first changed into comfortable clothes. Finally having some time to myself, I did some actual work. The anxiety faded as I worked. It was easy, checking papers. I'd done it a lot before then, and it wasn't very hard. And it was very useful for getting my mind off of my predicament while I was in no position to do anything about it. I had lunch while I worked, after my stomach had settled enough to. I had a second TV dinner. My stomach, being no longer queezy, was greedy instead. Understandably.

    I hadn't payed much attention to the time, when my phone rang. I hadn't gotten my hand halfway to it before I realized who it might be. I checked the number, and I didn't recognize it. I didn't have the courage, after all that relaxing, to answer, so I let it go to voice mail After the voice mail tone started, I shut off the ringer and put it on the charger. Ignoring my phone for one night would likely not lead to disaster, and I wanted the night to myself. After I was done with what work I had the attention for, I made dinner and put in a movie. It got to about ten o'clock and I decided to go to bed. I managed to sleep, too. Peacefully for most of the night.

    I woke up at about 2 AM, panicked. I was sweating. I had a headache. The world was rolling around me. My teeth were chattering. I couldn't breath, though I tried. I crawled to the bathroom. Maybe the emergency would be apparent in the mirror. I flipped on the light and pulled myself up to the sink. I turned, and the body mirror simply showed a sleepy, sweaty woman, hyperventilating. I was glad I was able to identify the problem so quickly. I concentrated, looked at the floor. Calming down was hard to do, but I focused on my breathing. I purposefully slowed and shallowed my breathing. It felt wholly unnatural, but I knew it was for the best. Finally, my breathing was normal.

    The health risk out of the way, I was still incredibly nervous, anxious, confused, and fearful. Still concentrating on my breathing, I wondered what would cause such a thing. Of course, stress would, but I never thought it might wake me up like that. I realized I was breathing deeper, so I stopped thinking about it. I was, when I shifted my focus, incredibly awake and alert. I went back and lied down in bed, but all I could think about was Having to go back to school, and Darla's being there. Why did she want me to bring the harness? Was she aware of my disobedience, somehow? What if I made a mistake and let someone find out about what was going on? Would it really be a mistake? What if a student found out? Would I have another Mistress or Master? How could I get out of this?

    No, the seating arrangements from last year. They were still in my filing cabinet. I needed to discover where exactly Greg sat last year, and in which class. I had a lead, I couldn't give up now. Not after four days. Had I been ready to? What was I dreaming about that caused me to hyperventilate spontaneously in the middle of the night? Was I dreaming? What could have caused that? Well, I was doing a bad job avoiding the stress, but I didn't begin to hyperventilate again, so I didn't bother changing my mental track. Oh no, what if Chad had something to do with it? Would he do that? No, he was a gentleman. He initiated things, but he was kind. I was the one who, after the first several times, initiated the sex. He worried about it too much. I should have conceded to his worries, dammit! Wait... why did he suddenly lack initiative after those first few times? I simply thought he was caring and gentlemanly, but what if he knew something? What if he let slip that we were having an affair, and he thought one of his friends or classmates might... do... what they did?!

    It was sheer conjecture, but I felt like I was getting somewhere. I would have to find a way to get a hold of Chad. Maybe his student files were still kept in the computer system. They'd have to be, right? Maybe his phone number or address or something was in it. I swore I'd allow Chad to grow up and become a man before I thought about him like that again. The fact of the taboo of the relationship, even if it wouldn't last, perhaps, made me call it off. Chad understood. He didn't fight it, but we were both sad. Indeed, he agreed. He needed to go to college, grow up, and I needed to cool off from him. The relationship... why did it have to end, really? He was almost of age right before we stopped seeing each other, why couldn't we just continue? No, he did have to grow up. I've seen too many high school romances, teaching at one. I even had some when I was in school, so I know they're passionate and exciting. However, the children were just that; Children. It was passionate and exciting, but it was basically over when the passion and excitement ended. I needed to let go of Chad before that happened to him. I wanted him to think positively of me, instead of having a big fight and making a scene. Indeed, I had good reason to avoid such a scene. But that didn't change the fact I needed to talk to him. I hoped I could maintain my calm when I did.

    I woke up to my alarm. I managed to fall asleep. Good. I felt sticky from sweating, so I took my shower before eating. Again, it was cold. Again, I didn't know why I chose to take a cold shower. I shaved and cleaned, then dressed. The panties looked good on me. How I wished the circumstances of my wearing them were different. Typical bra, typical blouse, typical skirt. No nylons, so I felt kind of dressed down, but not nearly as bad as I had these past several days. My stomach was mildly upset, but I managed to shove some cold food down my throat. Besides, I had to hurry and get to the school to look for Chad and Greg's records and such. I made sure everything I needed (and was told) was in my briefcase and left.

    Another uneventful drive later, I was at the school. I went immediately to the main office. The only office worker there was sorting through some files, so I waited patiently in front of her. In less than a minute, she smiled and greeted me. I returned the greeting and asked how I could access the last year's students records. She told me, and it was just as simple as getting access to any current student's record, until they've been gone for four years, which is when it gets archived. She had some sorting to do, so she got up and let me use her computer. I copied down both Chad and Greg's addresses and phone numbers, and noticed Greg was in my fourth period last year. That narrowed down the seating arrangement search. I thanked the office lady, exited the program, got my mail, and went to my classroom.

    I got halfway to my desk before feeling the presence to my right. My left was to the wall with the chalkboard, but someone was in the center of the front row to my right. I stopped and looked at them, obviously surprised, as I shouted. It was Darla. She had a strange, severe look and her arms were folded across her chest. I became suddenly aware of my underwear and the air sliding up my skirt. I was about to say something to her, though I hadn't figured out what before my mouth was opened. She beat me to it.

    "bitch, stand still and don't say a damned word.", and she walked to the room's door, shutting and locking it. My heart sank into my breakfast as she approached and stopped right in front of me, "Take off your skirt and underwear."

    I stood for a moment. I thought I'd have a bit of the morning here to myself. Why was she there so early? Morning was not like night, the door is generally open. What if someone walks by and gets curious?

    "Now, bitch!", She shouted, slapping me in the face. My first reaction was to slap her back, but my position struck me harder than her hand had. I hesitated a split second longer. My heart needed time to turn into butter. I began to unbutton my skirt, and she turned towards the desk she was at. She was rifling through her bag, or at least making it seem she was. My skirt hit the floor, followed by my new, red, thong panties. For some odd reason, I began to get protective of my crotch. I wasn't covering it, because that would likely make her angry, but I was preparing to cover it when she turned around. Did I think she was going to club it?

    She turned around and thrust a new skirt at me, "Put this one on, bitch.", she said.

    I took it from her, and I hesitated. She ignored me and picked up my purse and briefcase She turned and set it on the desk next to the one her bag was on. She was going to go through them. Shit. What if she found my homework on Chad and Greg? But, I also wanted to be covered, so I began to put the new skirt on. It's length bothered me. It was very short. It was possibly shorter than the one she made me wear on Friday. It had larger pleats and seemed lighter, too. I worried over that as I pulled it up. Maybe it would sit low on me? Nope. I had it up and buttoned, and it sat in the same place. I felt the air cleanly. But those pleats and the light material. I twisted my hips, and the hem flung up a bit. Oh no. I looked up at Darla. She was putting the harness into her bag, along with the dildo and butt-plug.

    When she zipped up her bag, she shut my briefcase and purse. Then, she turned and looked at me, with that same look she had when I came in, "That is what you wear all day. It's what you get for disobeying me. You said you didn't want me to do things like this to you at school, but I told you I'd consider it depending on how reliable you were. You proved unreliable, so now you get embarrassed at school, bitch! You underestimated me, and that was your mistake. Don't think I won't end up going to the principal if you continue to be so bad, girl!

    I felt very hot, I was getting light headed, and my bewilderment was doing nothing but growing, so I had to ask, "What? What are yo..."

    Before I got more than those three (point something) words out, Darla slapped me, "I told you not to talk, bitch!"

    I looked back to her. I knew there was nothing I could do, I would have to wear the skirt, today. DAMMIT! Wait... Darla turned and opened her bag as I distracted myself with thought. She took the lube and butt-plug from it. As I watched, she applied some lube to it, and spread it around. I tried to plead with my eyes. Darla looked angrily at me and replied, "No, you deserve this. Any attempts at getting a less severe punishment will be met with a more severe one. First, I will turn the vibrating butt plug on high and leave it on that way all day. Second time, I go to the principal's office. But you can avoid it, instead. You know your place, now act it, bitch!"

    She handed me the butt-plug. I was hot and shaking with anger, but I took it from her. I reached behind me and pulled up the back of the skirt, to avoid getting lubricant on it. Darla's threat was in the front of my mind, and I realized I should try to please her. A decision I made a few days ago but couldn't seem to stick to. I turned around and bent over a bit. That way I wouldn't have to look at her, but I'd be giving her a good view. I moved the tip against my asphincter. I didn't want to shove it right in, so I made a small show of rubbing it against me. That gave me time to relax, and she would probably enjoy it. Too bad I was having a hard time relaxing. I decided to give it a go, anyway. I figured the faster it went in, the sooner she might leave. I felt the pressure against my asphincter, but I didn't want to be too rough. I remember it hurt last time. It started to go in without problem. I couldn't say how far it had gotten, not as far as the first time, when it began to hurt. Not a terrible pain, but a burning or stretching. I continued to push slowly, and getting it all the way in seemed impossible. I had forgotten how big it was.

    "Stop playing, bitch.", Darla said. I almost whined, but I managed to keep my focus. I shoved harder. It hurt pretty badly, and I squealed as it got the rest of the way in. It ached as it rested inside my anus. I turned to look at her. I tried to hide my grimace as she watched me for a moment. She grabbed me suddenly. Her arms were around me and she pulled me in. I jerked in surprise, but did not resist. She kissed me. Deeply. I went along with it, of course. I doubt my show of affection seemed at all real to her, but I also doubt she cared. She shoved me away and turned to get her things from the desk behind her. After getting her bag and purse, she walked to the door of the room. I only watched, fearful, humiliated, and anxious.

    She turned after unlocking the door, but before opening it, "If I hear that you've altered your dress in any way, and I would, you'll pay for it, bitch.".

    She left. After listening to her footsteps fade, I hurried to the door and locked it behind her. What was I going to do?! I couldn't very well allow my students to see me as I was. I leaned my back on the door as I thought about my problem. This skirt was simply too short! What if the students could see my privates, or more importantly the butt-plug, without me even bending over?! I simply couldn't do that. But was prison worth it? How would Darla find out? Well, she somehow discovered something I did wrong, probably the previous day, or else she wouldn't do that to me. Or would she test me this way? Why?!

    "GAH!", I shouted. Without thinking, I grabbed my purse and threw it against the chalkboard. It was followed by my briefcase. I was about to try throwing a desk the same way when i realized the only mirror in the room was in my purse. I also realized I would need that mirror to check what could actually be seen by my students. I ran to it after the realization struck me. Falling onto my knees, I rifled through the purse. I found my blush, but the mirror inside was shattered. It fell, along with blush chunks, onto the floor as I opened it. I had nothing in the room to clean it with, and I no longer had the ability to check the skirt for it's level of revealing. I stood and checked manually. I felt the skirt downwardly, from the top of the back to the bottom. I felt it get below my butt. However, it stopped barely and inch or so from where my butt did (and where I could feel the base of the large intruder, which remained uncomfortable). And that was as I held it down.

    But what could I do about it, anyway? Darla took my only other clothes. What was I going to do about that butt-plug?! If a student saw my privates, it would be embarrassing in the extreme, but if they saw something up my butt I'd be downright humiliated! And I might lose my job, dammit! I had to check it out better, so I got up the courage to go to the bathroom. Students never showed up until class was about to start, anyhow, and I still had fifteen minutes. FIFTEEN?! Shit!

    I ran to the bathroom. I thought I heard something behind me as I ran besides my door shutting but I had to presume it was my imagination, for the sake of my sanity. I did not look. I made it to the bathroom, and it was empty, just as I suspected. This reminder of my good times with Chad that was Darla was going too far! I immediately ran to a mirror and tried to see how short the skirt looked. The mirror was too high and there was a sink, so I had to walk back from it. I was forced to press against the stall door to get a good view. The view ended up not being good at all. The way I was leaning, I could see the bottom of my butt, along with the very bottom portion of the base of the butt plug. I moved around trying to see what could get covered. I tried pulling the skirt down. Nothing worked. I could still see the plug in my butt. I knew it was due to the peculiar way I was standing, but it also meant it would be easy to show it off without this position, being that I was trying to lower my skirt's hem.

    I felt movement in my stomach. I barely thrust the stall door open before throwing up mostly into the bowl. That's when I made my decision. I was going home. But how would I tell the office? I wasn't going to go in there like that! Hah, I would leave the evidence of my throw up in the bathroom, and then simply leave. I would call on my way home. It was an imperfect plan, but it was the best I could do. A substitute would be called in, albeit late. But what would Darla do? Would she send me to prison with those pictures? Was I willing to take that chance?

    I calmed down a bit as I realized I could look better at myself now that the stall door was open. Why hadn't I thought of that in the first place? Just then there was a knock on the bathroom door. I quickly turned and looked back at myself in the mirror before whomever it was came in. But they did not. I saw that I could not see the plug that time. By the third series of knocks, I got curious enough to open the door to see what it was about. Besides, I needed to get back to my classroom regardless whether I left or stayed. I opened the door slowly, cautiously. It was no girl or woman, but it was the Principal. I was shocked, so probably stood mouth agape and dumb looking. He seemed bigger than usual, more powerful. More accurately, I seemed smaller, more exposed and vulnerable. Judging by the wind, he could probably see my vulva. I hoped not, though.

    "Listen, Lisa...", he seemed agitated, but patient. Mostly, he seemed angry as he searched for the words, "Lisa, I hope you brought a different skirt of maybe a pair of pants to wear when the school day actually begun."

    I estimate exactly one million and three thoughts ran through my head, but none of them could actually be said. I simply stood, still stupid looking and with my privates most likely on display, and shook my head slowly. He thought for a moment. When he looked his darkest, he said to me, "If you really want to wear that, today, you should have worn underwear, at least, Lisa. Fine, have it your way. You may wear that. However, you're going to sit behind your desk all day, and I'm going to be forced to write you up."

    I tried to remain calm, to accept what he was saying. I needed to talk to Darla about this. Was I really going to be forced into losing my job? Either by many write-ups or Darla's direct interference? I couldn't articulate a single word. I felt like I was going to explode. I cannot explain my next actions, for I don't understand them myself. Instead of being rational, instead of acting as mature as I could, I broke down in tears. I sobbed loudly and threw my arms around Mr. Zimmerman. Perhaps I realized he was trying to be as nice as he could. I had the impression he was trying to get me in the least amount of trouble he could while maintaining his authority in the matter. That makes sense, in retrospect. But at the time, I simply wanted someone to comfort me. I was at nerve's end.

    It was obvious he didn't know how to react. He hesitated, standing firm and resolute. Then, as he realized I was really crying, I think, he softened. He held me, comforted me. He said soothing words, though I wasn't paying attention to what they were. Without me realizing it immediately, he had stepped into the bathroom to keep the scene contained. He was not like those two guys at the mall. Those obnoxiously forward men who took advantage of me that they wouldn't have been able to even with a woman who would choose to dress that way, I imagine. He was not like Darla. He did not want to use me, he was seriously concerned about my well being. That allowed me to calm down. I pulled myself together, though I had already been crying for at least five minutes. I took a step back and looked up at him.

    "I... I'm sorry, I... I've been... very stressed, and I can't... if... I can't explain it, sorry.", I tried to open up to him, but that would simply necessitate mentioning the reason I was so stressed out. Instead, I begged, with my eyes, looking into his. What I was begging for, I wasn't sure, but it got results.

    "Lisa, I had no idea you were under so much stress. Listen, go home, take today off. I can teach your class today until a substitute can be called in. I won't write you up, too. However, you have to promise me to see a psychologist. I know a good one, specializing is stress treatment. I'll leave his card on your desk. Tomorrow, after school, make the earliest appointment you can with him. Does that sound fair?"

    "Yes,", I managed to squeak out, "Thank you for being so understanding."

    "I'll walk you to your classroom. Slowly, of course.", he said, sounding more authoritative again. The walk was uneventful, though it took a while. I couldn't think of anything to say, regardless so much was running through my head. He must have been too tense to say anything. The situation was very awkward, after all. I know he saw me run from my class. That's what I heard behind me on my way here. I ran, too. Which means the skirt flipped up, and he saw... he knew what was making me so uncomfortable. It really made no sense. After catching me in such a compromising position, why was he so nice? I should get in a lot of trouble. Maybe I would calm down enough to converse with him, but that thought was amplified by the physical discomfort itself. Every single step reminded me of my position. What do you say to a man who just saw a butt-plug up your ass, but was being so kind, even though he probably should fire or suspend you?

    While I gathered my things, he turned away. The conversation was still dead, but I was kind of glad for it at the moment. He was allowing me to bend over to pick up my purse and briefcase without looking at my butt. He was being... a gentlemen. Why? I did look like a slut. I didn't deserve his kindness. I was a slut. Look what I allowed a student to do to me. I should have known better. I shouldn't have had an affair with Chad, I shouldn't have buckled when Darla pressured me. I was going to think of a way out of this. The principal was being so kind. Maybe I could get him to help out. But how do I ask something like that? 'Excuse me, Mr. principal, do you mind not firing me when you discover I've had an affair with two of my students, one of them using the evidence of the first to force me into a lesbian BDSM relationship? Also, don't let anyone else find out, somehow."

    I don't know how, perhaps because of the stress, I found myself laughing at that thought. I stopped immediately as the principal looked at me. Fortunately, I was ready to go. Formally, as formal as I could be, I told him the day's plan, and left the planner on my desk. He walked me to my car. He turned away and walked towards the building as I sat down. He still avoided looking. Why would a man be so nice to a woman? That's when I realized it. He was being nice to a woman. And he saw me dress sexily the other day, and he reacted unexpectedly. He had a crush on me. It was an odd turn of events. It was something I hoped I could use to my advantage in this situation. What a selfish thought. I wanted to use a sincere man's feelings to my benefit. But I was still in my very serious jam. I could consider him more seriously when I was out of it.

    That left me with the problem of knowing I could never feel that way for him. He was still not my type. How could I get him to help me without leading him on? How could I get him to help me at all? I doubt he had the authority to go through students' homes and take anything incriminating to his teachers from them, after all. The best I could do is to get him to look the other way, and maybe ask the school board not to fire me. But how could he make a compelling argument such that his request would actually be considered? Even if I could keep my teaching license, I would still have to go to prison. Darla would not stop at the principal and the school board, after all. She'd go to the courts, as well. Her threat would have no gravity if she only had enough copies of the pictures to give them to the principal.

    But, then, why would she assume he would not be outraged and do the rest of the work himself? Perhaps I could manage to delete all copies of the pictures Darla had except the ones she gave to the principal, after getting him to agree to help me. A good strategy in theory, but how would I pull it off? I'd have to go to Darla's house immediately before it happened, know exactly where all copies were, delete them, and then be sure to get Darla to give every copy she currently had to the principal. Shit!

    I started my car as someone pulled up next to me. I pulled away without looking at them. These thoughts tumbled around my head the entire drive home. When I finally got home, I was getting so bother by the butt-plug that I had to take it out before I went inside. Luckily, nobody was around when i decided to take it out. I shoved an arm behind me to hold the base to the seat, and slowly pulled my butt up. It felt weird, and I worried I'd get my front seat dirty. No such misfortune, though. I didn't want to chance someone else seeing it. so I put it under my front seat. I rushed to my place, since I could see nobody around, and spent the rest of the day in sweat pants. I worried about what would happen with Darla. When would she call? She certainly would. She would have to understand the situation. The principal saw. I couldn't simply not do as he said.

    And the the embarrassment of that situation hit me. God, how could I ever show my face to him again, let alone find a way to get him to help me with this? I didn't even have a chance to go through my files like I meant to. That could wait until the next day, though.

    I decided to check my phone's voice mail Four messages. One from each of those two guys. One crude, one flirty, both disgusting. To me, anyhow. I had no plans to meet those two ever again, so I deleted the messages. The other two voice mails were from my family. My mother's birthday was this weekend, so she and my sister called to both remind me and tell me when to show up. My sister still lived with mother, since mother had Alzheimer's and needed help. It wasn't bad, but the doctors said it would get much worse with age. Great, now her birthday on top of all my other stress.

    I cleaned my place as I waited for the dread call from Darla.